Tag: cyberratting writes stuff

I asked @ikkanoodles whether I could write a little something accompanying his pic of Jesse and Reyes frotting and he said yes ❤ ❤ thanks again!!

“Could at least let me finish my smoke, kid. Shit…”

Reyes lets himself get pushed back against the edge of his desk. Jesse mumbles something into the warm space beneath his chin, voice high and whiny as he presses close, arms tight around his Commander’s torso. 

McCree is young and greedy, and it shows in situations like this: When he is high off a training session done well, and cocky enough to ignore his own laughable awkwardness and be pushy about what he wants.

Reyes can’t say he doesn’t enjoy the attention or the puppy eagerness as McCree traces wet, suckling kisses against his jaw, dragging his lips against Gabriel’s goatee and seeking for his mouth.

Gabriel grins, free hand coming up to cup McCree’s cheek, helping him to angle his head better for them to make out.

“You been hot for this for a while, eh?” Reyes mumbles against Jesse’s lips, vaguely aware of the smoldering cigarette still between relaxed fingers. McCree whines again – a short affirmative as he nudges himself closer, warm breath puffing excitedly against his Commanding Officer’s lips.

“Easy now,” Reyes sighs, body twisting minimally, to better slot their hips together. Already he can feel McCree’s cock warm and insistent against his own crotch. 

“No patience,” he admonishes in a low rumble, thumb wiping soothingly against the kid’s cheekbone. He is pressing slow kisses against his quick, pretty mouth, not letting himself get deterred by Jesse’s overeager whining; how wet he’s already gotten their lips as he huffed with an open mouth, eyebrows drawn together in helpless concentration as his hips buck forward against Reyes.

It doesn’t take long until Jesse starts calming down and lets Reyes take over – lips becoming slack and receiving for the slow, indulgent kisses the Commander presses against them, eyes heavy lidded, watching the flush on McCree’s face and how it brings out the small dusting of freckles across the bridge of his nose.

Every now and then he pulls away, breathing deep and carefully controlled as he slides his thighs farther apart and lets the kid slot more firmly in between. He’ll curl the hand with the cigarette over Jesse’s shoulder, taking a slow drag as the kid waits impatiently for more kisses, one hand sliding beneath Reyes’ hoody, pressing large and insistent and warm against the small of his back.

“That’s it,” Gabriel hums, voice smoke rough, feeding the last tendrils to the kid whenever he starts kissing him again; tongue sliding out in a slow drag first along Jesse’s lower lip, then dipping inside teasing and shallow because McCree was too easy too please; too quick to distract by his own cock bumping against an answering bulge, hips jerking and rutting forward.

“Shit… yeah…” Gabriel sighs, tugging at the kid’s too long hair absent minded, feeling the gun calluses against his back when Jesse starts petting him there.

He jerks when a sharp tone slices through the warm, panting cocoon they wrapped around themselves, turning away from Jesse’s suckling, needy kisses to peer behind him at his desk. There next to his steaming cup of coffee was his phone, display alight, moving slightly across the wood with the force of the vibrations.

He thinks about taking the call for about three seconds before Jesse is moving, hands sliding down and gripping the plump swell of Reyes’ ass – really digging in and pulling him towards his rocking hips, and… yeah. Yeah, whoever’s calling can try again later when he’s not busy.

Reyes even helps McCree then; lets himself get pushed up onto the edge of his desk, thighs spreading for the kid in welcome, heavy boots crossing loosely behind the backs of his knees as McCree starts humping him with vigor, sweet, high sounds spilling from his throat, cheek lying almost dream like against his commanding Officer’s broad shoulder as he dry humps and gropes.

Gabriel wants to be annoyed by his puppy enthusiasm – wants to scoff and push him away and tell him to fucking learn a thing or two before coming here again – but he can’t. He’s too much into this; how greedy McCree is, unabashedly chasing his orgasm, rutting against him in small, desperate motions that make his head feel like it was filled with cotton.

He liked rubbing one off against McCree, dry humping like teenagers in his smoke filled office, listening to his hot, little sounds of need and hugging his hard body to his own.

He maybe wouldn’t admit to it freely – but he liked it. Very much, so.

how about soft cock tigh fucking?

“No. Keep still. Yes… just like that. Tense them for me a bit – ah exactly. Perfect. Damn.”

Soldier’s hand is unrelenting in Hanzo’s hair, fisted tightly at the back of his head, keeping it pulled back enough to stretch his throat and make it difficult to swallow.

He is rocking his hips, cock sliding through the mess of lube he left between the archer’s upper thighs, their clench warm and hard around him.

“Don’t get sloppy now,” he rasps right into Hanzo’s ear, free hand gripping at his hip, keeping him nice and steady for the slow, leisurely thrusts. “Keep them pressed together. Give me a nice place to fuck into, and maybe I’ll be persuaded to switch out for your slutty hole later.”

Hanzo groans – Soldier can feel the heat of his eager flush against the lips pressed to the shell of his ear. He grins and rewards him with another thrust – this time a little sharper; a snap of hips that has his pelvis noisily slap against the supple cheeks of Hanzo’s ass, the swollen head of his cock nudging against his balls.

Hanzo’s breath hitches. He is restless before him even though he tries to keep still enough for the Soldier to fuck into the warm, tight space between his thighs. His back bows forward, ass angling into the cup of 76′s hips. He’s as needy as they come, hoping wordlessly, mindlessly, he might re-evaluate his decision after all and push back, back, back, let the wide, blunt head of his dick nudge against that hungry, well-fucked hole Hanzo’s so very generous with providing everybody with.

“Would you need preparation?” 76 breathes, breath hot and wet as it fans across the side of Hanzo’s face, his fingers rubbing mindless circles in the sharp hipbone, tracing the cut of his muscles down towards his groin. “Or could I slide just right in? Maybe you’re still wet with cum… Who used you, Hanzo?”

He hums, fingers encountering what he’s been looking for, chin hooking across the muscled swell of Hanzo’s shoulder to stare down his body and watch himself play with his cock – soft and flushed a little pink.

It looked vulnerable on the palm of his wide hand. A sweet little dick whose head was just a bit wet beneath the foreskin – the only outward sign of how excited the archer was by this.

Hanzo makes a weird sound when he feels him finger his cock; an almost gurgle that dips into a deep, throaty rasp when the Soldier rudely wriggles a fingertip into the tender opening of his foreskin, the rough pad of the digit rounding the spongy, wet tip again and again.

“Don’t get lazy,” he reminds him in a low, heated growl, hips still pumping, fucking the warm space between Hanzo’s thighs, other hand now shoving his head forward, allowing him to look down; both of them watching how he plays with the soft cock; lets it dance on negligently wriggling fingers.

“You need preparation, Hanzo?” he asks again, pushing forward, watching the warm mound of his testicles move as they get nudged by his cock. “You need me to fuck you on a few of my fingers? Get you ready for dick?”

Hanzo mutely shakes his head. His mouth is hanging open. He’s drooling a bit; enraptured by feeling a big cock tantalizingly close to the needy, aching space he wants it to be, and the sight of the good Soldier playing with his cock, jerking it with a loose fist as if he really was hard.

76 breathes out noisily; watches the clear string of pre-cum dripping out of the folds of Hanzo’s foreskin, listening to his fast, shallow breathing.

“Could you come like that?” he rasps, a sudden spike of excitement making him stutter almost to a stop.

Hanzo makes a soft noise. Broken and helpless.

The Soldier curses under his breath and rolls on top of the archer, teeth bared in a snarl, eyebrows pulled together as he fucks the space between Hanzo’s thighs in earnest, spurned on by the thought of Hanzo being such a cock slut he’d be able to come just from the thought of getting his ass reamed.

“Goddamn slut. So good.”

New product of the live-write ❤ be aware that it’s shimadacest

Hanzo slips inside Genji’s room like a shadow. Still, the door could not slide shut behind him fast enough for his taste, fingers already hovering impatiently above the keypad to the side, waiting to lock it down from the outside world.

“You look like a criminal, Hanzo. People could think you have something… illicit in mind.”

Genji’s voice was teasing and full of laughter. He could see the tension pulling Hanzo’s shoulders up defensively towards his ears.

“It is not… – you have no sense of propriety.”

“Says the one thirsting for his brother’s body,” Genji replies almost gently, slowly standing up from the edge of the bed. “You could have just knocked. It is not like one brother visiting the other would raise questions.”

“We should not be doing this in the first place, Genji. We should be – what are you wearing?”

Hanzo had finally turned around, dark eyes widening imperceptibly in surprise at the colorful kimono Genji was wearing. The cyborg tilted his head in towards him, spreading his arms from their demure fold in front of him and twirling once obligingly.

“I thought I would make myself pretty for you, brother,” he murmurs, a certain kind of breathlessness already stealing into his filtered voice. He dips his head down, the gesture demure enough even with his visor still on to give Hanzo the feeling of getting glimpsed at from beneath lowered eyelashes. “I missed you. It’s been a… long time.”

He affects calmness beneath his brother’s calculating gaze, yet still, Hanzo can see the small motions of his fingers fiddling with the edge of one long sleeve. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen Genji nervous when about to have a tryst.

He is at him in three long strides, one large hand placed in the back of his little brother’s neck, gripping tight and feeling the minimal give of the plating beneath his fingers. The armor felt nice; smooth and surprisingly warm to the touch. Genji is carefully still for a few seconds longer, then reaches up and unlocks his faceplate with a soft hissing of the mechanics.

“I missed you as well, little brother,” Hanzo tells him with a low, sincere voice when they are able to look each other in the eyes. His brows are drawn together in a fierce scowl, the corners of his mouth downturned in a perpetual frown. Hanzo always looks angry – even when divulging his affection, whispering it like it was a shameful secret.

Genji swallows slowly almost laboriously, the click of it loud in the room – drawing Hanzo’s sharp gaze down to his throat.

“It’s been such a long time,” he murmurs, stepping a little closer still until their noses are almost brushing. He reaches for the back of Genji’s head, jerking for a second when he can’t feel the shock of silky, short hair he’s had once upon a time, but covers for it by slowly wrapping the scarf around his fist. “Your body had been… different, the last time.”

Genji’s pupils blow wide, the rigidness melting from his back all of a sudden, and the corners of his eyes crinkling in a little smirk.

“Oh my… your pillow talk still leaves a lot to be desired, though,” he teases, hands lifting to put them with splayed fingers across Hanzo’s chest, one cheekily slipping beneath the cover of his clothes to get at naked skin. “Were you wooing the ladies like this? ‘You’d been prettier a few years ago. Put on a little weight, did you?’”

Hanzo’s face finally softens at that, a vague expression of shame crawling through the twitch in his eyes. He clears his throat, obviously looking for something to say – and getting beat to it by Genji, who pushes him back playfully and takes a seat unabashedly astride his brother’s lap when he comes to sit on the edge of the bed Genji had left earlier.

“You’re hopeless. Just stop talking. I…” He falters, then, bright eyes sliding to the side, teeth gnawing at the synthetic bottom lip. “My body has changed more than you think, Hanzo,” he finally says, voice low and careful, hands slowly sliding up and down his brother’s naked arms after shoving his clothes out of the way; more to calm himself than his brother.

Finally, his eyes slide back towards Hanzo’s face, slyly gazing at him out of the corners. “I could show you… if you want?”

Hanzo’s nostrils flare, strong hands gripping down tighter on his brother’s splayed thighs.

“I would very much like that.”

.o.

There was a hot, splotchy blush on Hanzo’s cheeks and Genji hid his grin behind the back of his hand lest he offend him with his giggling.

He didn’t need to ask his opinion – it was more than clear in the predatory widening of his eyes, the sharp line of his shoulders.

Still, he asked, knees falling apart a little farther, heels digging into the bedding to subtly tilt his hips upward – offering his pretty cunt to his brother’s gaze: “You like it?”

Hanzo was kneeling on the bed, fingers tightening into fists atop his thighs as he stared and obviously held back from touching. His gaze hadn’t left the curious space between his little brother’s thighs since he had reclined and pulled his colorful garments apart, exposing the smooth mound of his crotch.

He’d been almost eerily quiet; sitting and staring as Genji’s fingers had slipped between his thighs, manipulating the thick protective fabric covering him until it had slid up and retreated into his armor.

“It’s very sensitive,” Genji purrs finally when it becomes obvious that Hanzo will not be able to get a word out, fingers tickling across the dark grey mesh making out the lips of his cunt. He breathes a little harder, excitement making his blood boil already. He is nervous and giddy, and he wants Hanzo to say something. To tell him how pretty he thought his little brother’s pussy was. He wanted his brother to like it.

Genji bit his lip, fingers spreading the plump lips, feeling how silky the material felt, the mesh so small it seemed smooth.

Hanzo finally did make a noise at that – a choked kind of groan as his shoulders curled forward. He managed to hunch while kneeling, mouth pinched, eyes fixed where Genji held himself open for his perusal.

Genji was no longer hiding his grin with his hand – he was just pressing it against his mouth now, feeling too hot and wondering why his fans hadn’t kicked on yet.

He thought of years and years back; when they first had started playing with each other in the way their parents had not been anticipating; exploring each other’s bodies; showing the other what felt good.

They had been in much the same position back then; his big brother kneeling between his legs and watching with that same fierce scowl and ruddy red cheeks as Genji had fingered himself with slippery digits, his young cock curving up against his belly sleek and hard, teen body trembling in excitement…

“You’re staring,” Genji murmurs indistinct from behind his hand, yet spreading his fingers wider still, making that sweet little hole stretch under Hanzo’s focused stare.

“You are…” he finally says – chokes – fingers curled tightly into the loose fabric of his wide pants, “your… it’s… glowing.”

Genji feels heat slosh through him like a wave, cheeks pounding with the sudden rush of blood. He almost felt ashamed; belly flipping in on itself, breath stuttering in his lungs.

“Yeah it is,” he rasps, fingers slipping low and dipping in; pulling a little more of his slick out, candy green on his fingertips, glowing like the running lights scattered on his body. “It’s not poisonous,” he says when Hanzo remains silent, staring at the sticky mess stretching wet and glowing between the tips of two fingers.

“It’s also not… the only glowing thing.” He tilts his head, finally taking his hand from his mouth, watching Hanzo’s face carefully as he opens himself up once more for his gaze, gently petting fingertip showing him the shy nub of his clit, just starting to peek out at the top of the folds.

He can’t help the soft whine in the back of his throat – the twitching thrust of his hips up against his own finger, face feeling so hot the longer his brother stares and inspects… he feels almost painfully sensitive, a small pinch to the plump lips already having him gush more slick, bright and obvious against the dark grey backdrop of his armor.

“You’re so sensitive,” Hanzo finally says, deep voice even lower than usual, hands coming up to put on Genji’s knees and rub along the insides of his thighs. He can’t feel him without the stimulation of the sensors tucked just beneath the thickly armored parts, but he tilts into it even so, thumb pressing against the glowing nub of his clit.

“Why don’t you… why don’t you taste, brother?” he whispers, squirming, hips tilting up restlessly into his own mindless fondling. “I made myself pretty for you. You can…” his voice slides lower, coming out throaty and hot. “You can pretend I’m your little sister, nii-chan. You always liked that, didn’t you? Told me what a sweet little cunt I have and how you want to…”

He stops with a strangled groan, back arching palm slamming against the wall behind him and leaving a small indent as his brother suddenly surges forward, mouth open and wet and greedy for his little brother’s slick cunt.

.o.

Hanzo’s beard is messy with his slick, and Genji is fascinated by the sight whenever he pulls back to take a breath, tongue lapping the fluid from his lips. His nose, whenever he pushes back in with vigor, nudges against his clit while his tongue delves in deep, rubbing against the sleek, artificial entrance before encountering spongy, fleshy insides.

He seems fascinated with it; the tip slowly, carefully mapping where cool, metallic mesh leads into softness, his eyes heavy lidded and a little out of focus.

Genji would have made a comment about it – his brother’s far-away, dreamy expression when he got to explore a cunt – but could bring himself to form the actual words. He was too preoccupied with moving in gentle, careful curls of his hips, trying not to break Hanzo’s jaw while heat crawled through his abdomen and settled tingling in the tips of his feet.

He hadn’t even known he could feel something like that. He hadn’t known it could be this way.

An accidental press of sharp teeth against the synthetic mound of his clit has him keen and jerk, hand slapping in front of his mouth, eyes wide as he stares at the ceiling.

“You always liked a little pain,” Hanzo comments idly, fingers sliding into the mess he made, testing the small, easily accommodating entrance and slipping inside. He sounds smug; maybe even haughty. Genji wants to smack him but only curls his fingers around his brother’s ponytail  and holds on as he starts to fuck down, spearing himself on the thick digits.

Hanzo shakes his head once with an annoyed growl, but doesn’t seem too concerned with dislodging him. Instead, he places his mouth around Genji’s clit and sucks with a lewd, slick sound that reverberates in Genji’s head, heart beating so hard and fast, it is almost painful.

“I love your pussy, Genji,” he suddenly admits, tongue snaking out to cradle the fat nub, then flick against it so hard, Genji’s knees jerk up instinctively; trying to shield before the sensation gets registered as good. Very good. Yes.

“Such a pretty, little peach you have. I could eat it for hours. So sweet and pretty… I feel like it’s been made just for me.”

Genji stares down, watches his brother’s dark head, the way he placed his cheek against the inside of his thigh, seemingly whispering the sweet nothings directly to his cunt, fingers moving in slow, self-indulgent thrusts, rubbing against synthetic walls and organic ones alike.

Hanzo’s face looked… serene. Genji jerked again.

“M-Maybe it has been?” he whispers, slowly letting go of Hanzo’s hair in favor of stroking over his head in little, feverish passes. “I haven’t played with other men…”

Hanzo groans and tilts forward, pressing small, suckling kisses against the plump lips, suckling the dark grey mesh between his teeth until Genji’s breath hitches and he reaches for his own clit, tapping against the little nub.

“Only played with toys, have you? Didn’t want other men to have what belongs to your brother?” He leans up finally, glowing slick caught in the whiskers of his beard, the sharp point of his chin. His hand swivels, palm cupping his brother’s cunt, fingers stilling deep within him – simply holding on; protective and possessive.

Genji’s mouth falls open, head tilting back in silent submission as he nods slowly – suddenly shy in the face of his brother’s ardor; Hanzo’s eyes practically burning as he crowds above him, a dark silhouette against Genji’s decadent sprawl and the bright colours of his kimono.

“Let me fuck you, little brother,” Hanzo whispers heatedly, mouth hovering above Genji’s, wet, warm breath fanning against scarred cheeks. “I need to feel you on my cock. Such a sweet little peach only for me. Stretch you out so you’re molded perfectly for your brother. Would you like that? Ruined for other men by your own flesh and blood? You’d come to me begging, asking to be plugged up; little nuisance just like all those years ago when you broke one of your favorite toys.”

Genji his breathing in sharp little pants, already nodding along feverishly, belly burning with need as he feels his cunt pulsing, throbbing against his brother’s unrelenting, almost painful grip.

“Nii-chan…” he whispers and Hanzo grins wolfishly, tongue snaking out and licking a broad, messy stripe across Genji’s open, lax mouth.

“Sh sh sh. I’ve got you. Just stay still… show me that gorgeous little snatch. Yes… yes, little brother. Show me where you want my cock.”

Genji has spread his knees once more from their earlier cautious clench, hips tilting up, fingers spreading his cunt for his brother’s perusal after Hanzo had pulled away, working – almost fumbling – at his sash.

It is like earlier, Genji offering and Hanzo taking in, his words still hanging in the air thick and almost ominous.

“Hanzo… Please,” he whispers, voice rough, insides clenching until he feels a new dribble of slick trickle out of him, body working in smooth, eager whirrs as it produces the substance.

“Always been so impatient for cock, little brother,” Hanzo purrs, big fist slowly stroking across the shaft.

“I’m going to bite you,” Genji hisses back, teeth bared even as his knees tilt farther apart, hips shimmying up in a desperate, wordless plea.

Hanzo simply laughs at him and shuffles closer.

.o.

Genji has curled his hands around the metal of the headboard because he doesn’t trust his own strength any longer.

Hanzo is spreading him open, smooth and perfect, and he can’t get enough of the feeling. He feels like he would claw his arms open in an effort to get him closer, deeper, farther.

Hanzo has stopped laughing at him and is simply quiet; mouth soft and open as his hips rock in little, aborted motions that drive Genji wild, the flared head of Hanzo’s cock rubbing against all the right places.

“So perfect… so perfect,” he is chanting low, breathless, eyebrows pulling together in what almost looks like annoyance when Genji clenches down on him involuntarily, pussy clinging to his cock wet and silky, reluctant to let him go.

Genji wonders how it had to look; Hanzo’s stout cock smeared with his glowing green slick; the neat patch of greying pubes which he kept meticulously out of sheer vanity matted with it as much as his beard – Genji’s cunt smeared all over his body, leaving its mark.

He liked the thought. He wanted to mark his brother up like a dog; drag his cunt across his belly and rub off on him until he was gushing; marking him as his. After all, they had always belonged to each other.

“I will fill you up, Genji,” Hanzo whispers suddenly, a hot, intimate rush of air right next to the shell of his ear, Hanzo’s hips swivelling and snapping a little sharper as if to make his point clear. “Get you hot with my cum and think about a pretty little womb nestled in here right for me.” His hand places itself splayed on his brother’s abdomen, and Genji can feel the heat of it seeping through the armor, hidden little sensors easily picking up on it. His breath hitches, then stills – lungs seizing as he claws at the bedframe and listens to his brothers words, hearing every syllable even as he dips his voice nearly beneath a whisper. “It’s gonna be here just for me to fill; I’ll get it nice and warm for you, little brother. Fill you up right where you need it.”

The muscular body shivers above him, hips taking up their pace, drilling into Genji and nudging deep, dragging along his spread, clinging walls and making him jerk whenever he pushes in especially deep, blunt tip digging in near painful against sensitive equipment.

“You’d love it. Having your brother fill up your slutty womb. I know you, Genji. You’re a little freak, you’d love it.”

Genji laughs breathless and high – a little insane, if he were to be honest, hips tilting up, trying to give back just as good as he got, blood rushing and pounding in his ears; trying to give just as much love back to his big brother.

“I’d love it, yeah, yeah, yeah,” he whispered back, little sounds of assent pushed out of him with Hanzo’s frantic fucking, everything in his body starting to pull deliciously tight with an orgasm hovering around the edges. “Fuck me, Hanzo. Fill me up, please? Get me nice and round with your cum, nii-chan. Get your little brother full with it.”

Hanzo bites the lobe of his ear sharply, the pain surging through Genji’s body and getting misinterpreted as another bout of lust.

He just hoped the walls would withstand his caterwauling when he would finally come on his brother’s cock after so many years of feverish dreams of having him back.

yoo the fruits of the small live-write just now.

The boys (soldier/hanzo) performing for D.Va because they’re filthy pervs ❤

“What’s the problem? You were begging me and I was so kind to indulge you and even cancelled a stream. That’s pure money, y’know. Now you’re not working for it.”

D.Va pouts, sinking farther down in her chair and noisily crinkling her bag of chips between her fingers. She peeks at the Soldier above her knees thickly socked feet bouncing at the edge of her chair.

He isn’t looking at her. The tips of his ears are red and his muscles are tensing. He’s old but his body is delicious – D.Va can never get enough of his muscles and the hair covering his pecs and arms. He always smells so good.

She’d never tell him as much, though, obviously. It would undermine her dominance, she felt like.

“You got the lube?” she asks him, stuffing a chip into her mouth as he nods and curls a big hand around the bottle. He squirms on the bed. His earlier giddy excitement at her agreeing to play had quickly melted away to an almost stubborn kind of anxiety. He digs his toes into her pink bedding.

He looks hilariously unfit for her girly room – that big, bad soldier – but that makes it even better. He’d wear cute rabbit onesies if she told him to. He was under her absolute thrall, and the thought alone made her pussy throb.

She lets her head roll back against her chair. It’s the chair she uses to lounge in for her streams, and she glances pointedly at her PC.

“I don’t got all day. It’s not too late to tell the guys I’m coming after all…”

She looks back and smirks when he finally lets his legs fall wide, lips pulled into a vague grimace of distaste.

My, my… he was fussy today.

“Aww what’s that?” D.Va glances at his cock; big and juicy looking even soft as it was, lying against his belly in the soft thatch of grey pubes. “I thought you were ready to go. C’mon, now.”

She flicks a chip at him and he flinches when it hits his bicep. D.Va snickers and puts the bag to the side, rubbing salty fingers clean on her pyjama pants.

“You’re so bad at this. I really do need to help you with everything. Oh well.”

She grabs her phone, punching in a short, succinct message, then turns back to the Soldier watching her warily, one big hand curled around his limp cock, eyes focused on her face, seemingly trying to anticipate what she had planned this time.

D.Va smiles at him, a small, sweet grin as she uses the heels of her feet push her ass up minimally, shimmying her pants down just far enough to bare her ass to the room.

She can hear his soft, excited intake of air and doesn’t bother to hide her condescending smirk. He was still so easy to rile up. Even just a glimpse of her plump lips outlined by the thin, old pair of panties was obviously doing it for him, his balls pulling up a little towards his body as his fist clenched tighter around his cock.

“Look,” she coos, spreading her feet apart to let him see better. She hooks fingers into one leg hole and pushes the fabric unceremoniously aside, airing out her cunt – already slick from just watching him submit to her with ill-grace.

She spreads her lips for his viewing pleasure as much as possible in her cramped position and is fascinated once more by how deeply enamoured he seems to be with that sweet, little slit – cock already swelling impressively in his fist, trim hips curling up into the touch with well-practiced ease.

“There you go. Good boy,” she purrs, and because she can’t help it, she lets one sharp nailed finger slide through the slick, dipping minimally into the little opening, rubbing against the very edges that so many of her team mates were fantasising about spreading out on their big cocks, and making her bounce on them…

“I showed you mine – now you show me yours.” Her finger dips in deeper, eyes heavy lidded as she watches him fumble with the bottle and dripping the slick onto his thigh before he manages to get it on his fingers.

He hesitates then, eyebrows drawn together, a boyish blush spreading on his rugged face as he glances first at her, then down his own body as if being able to see that sweet, dark space between his cheeks.

“Come ooon, do it. I wanna see that little cunt of yours. You got to see mine, after all. Right? Be a good perv, now.”

He grimaces again, head turning away, broad shoulders pulling up to his ears. He looks as reluctant as they come, but still he dips his slicked up fingers down beneath the swell of his balls that D.Va liked to play with, and experimentally slipped them into the darkness there.

She can’t see too much like this; he’d need another pair of hands to spread his ass open – but his reaction is sweet nonetheless: a little jerk and an audible click of teeth as he throws his head back.

He lets go of his cock in favor of pressing a hand over his mouth and she feels like he probably bit his tongue.

“Silly boy,” she chides breathlessly, almost as an afterthought. She is sitting forward now, her naked ass on the chair, cunt rubbing along the smooth leather as she watches his knuckles move – a shy up and down of his finger as he tickles his own hole and gets it wet with lube.

His chest is heaving, slim nostrils flaring above the edge of his hand.

What a sweet, sensitive virgin he was. Getting so worked up by his own finger.

There’s a soft click from the door and D.Va glances away from the sight of his eyes closing in bliss, hand tilting as he seemed to get a little bolder already, pushing in deeper, wriggling a thick, callused digit into that tender, unused passage.

Hanzo looks almost as reluctant as the Soldier had earlier, dark liquid eyes taking in the scene in seconds and sensual mouth curling into a moue of distaste.

He, like the Soldier, obviously had had his own plans of how her invitation had been meant.

D.Va grins at him – a little too broad, feeling almost drunk – and gestures at the bed with unrestrained eagerness.

“There you go! All for you.”

.o.

Her boys liked to pretend like they were mean, sometimes. Especially Hanzo often was of the impression he was a prince better than anybody else – that they should probably thank him for his time.

When it came down to it, thought, they were too sweet to be mean to each other.

D.Va watched, fingers slowly circling the fat nub of her clit, as the Soldier curled arms and legs around Hanzo, clinging to him like a limpet and hiding his face against his shoulder. He was making soft, high sounds, that rough voice broken open by the slow, deep dicking he received just as much as his poor little hole.

“That’s it,” D.Va croons, but she feels like the two aren’t even listening to her anymore. Hanzo’s forehead is pressed into the pillow next to the Soldier’s head, hiding his face just as much as his friend as he nudges his hips forward again, strong, broad back curling as he pushes inwards and drags his cock against those clinging, soft walls.

It was dark outside. The room stank of sweat and sex and excitement. Hanzo had taken long enough to spread the Soldier open to even make D.Va anxious for more, her fingers meanly pinching her puffy nipples as Jack had started opening up for more and more, face beet red beneath the pink-ish scars and thighs trembling something fierce as he’d been shown how receptive his old body still could be; rim stretching around Hanzo’s fingers, and then his thick knuckles, feeling horribly empty whenever they pulled out and let the swollen walls close up on nothing.

That first push in had been her favorite part so far: the sheer dumb wonder on the Soldier’s face feeling a real life dick nudging against his sweet snatch for the first time, the smooth, large head pushing teasingly before Hanzo let it glance away and up, bumping into the warm swell of his balls.

They’d been so quiet, her boys. She supposed there were no words needed, really; they were both desperate men sniffing after her cunt, eager to do anything she was bidding them just for the off chance of getting a go at her; having her stretch herself out on those sometimes intimidatingly big cocks.

There really was nothing to say about it. She wanted to see them fuck – so they did it; Soldier’s fingers digging into Hanzo’s biceps as the archer finally started pushing in in earnest, strands of greying hair slipping out of the bun and falling into his sweaty face. She couldn’t see him the way she sat but she liked to think he had a look of extreme focus – the same when he was looking out for a target.

She’d almost wondered if that was just it: a new job to complete – until she saw the red tips of his ears; the almost bashful tilt of his head as he dipped it down and nosed against the Soldier’s cheek; how he let his mouth hover open and wet just above the Soldier’s panting lips, breathing him in as he pushed into that softened, relaxed muscle and forced him to accept the girth of his cock.

Jack had looked over to her, then; blue eyes large and amusingly confused like he couldn’t understand what was happening; as if the concept of a dick in his ass was too complicated to grasp. (Or maybe he wondered what life choices had let him there? How he could be so hot and needy for a young woman’s cunt that he’d do this for her?)

D.Va had grinned, sharp and predatory, fingers wriggling obnoxiously happy at him.

“Good, is it?”

He had not answered.

By now, D.Va was pressing the edge of her hand into her little slit, not even moving – just holding it there, vaguely pressing against the throbbing, sensitive swell of her clit as she watched Hanzo shuffle closer, hooking arms beneath the good Soldier’s knees to lift them up in the air.

Jack made a soft sound of alarm at that, face still pressed into Hanzo’s shoulder, fingers scrabbling at the bed. His hips got curled higher into the air, body weight pushing unto his shoulders – made more vulnerable by Hanzo’s desire to get closer and push deeper.

D.Va could guess his predicament: getting fucked with his feet in the air like a hooker. He wasn’t protesting either, though.

She bit her lip, finger pinching her nipple again, the large neck of her pyjama top – … one of the Soldier’s old sweaters – pulled down far enough to let her small breast at the air, the nipple an angry red from her mean, sharp fingernails.

There was a mess of slick and sweat on the leather seat of her chair and she couldn’t bring herself to care – not when she had two men that would clean it up for her and thank her for the privilege.

The new position let her see better, too – the sway and swell of Hanzo’s balls; the thick jut of his cock spreading the swollen rim open, everything generously wet and glistening.

Hanzo was fucking like a man possessed; low, rough grunts punched out of him as he humped forward, muscles tensing, tattoo rippling like it was alive beneath his skin.

He was such a pretty man, she supposed, leaning back, idly petting her puffy lips as she tried to calm herself down some more – not willing to come before the two.

If only he weren’t so arrogant.

Maybe she should do something about it sometime; when he cornered her in an unused corridor again, his hands going places they had no right to be, his breath smelling of the sake from his gourd.

He always thought he had more privileges than the others, this yakuza princeling. He could use something to cool his temper; get him on speed with the news that his cock really was nothing to write home about – just as much as the other pets’.

She smirks, fingers pinching her clit, toes curling deliciously as Hanzo slows down from his almost frantic fuck into a more leisurely pace. He is groaning like a workhorse – a continuous low noise of exertion as he drags his cock through the clinging, wet grip of the Soldier’s cunt while Jack is almost suspiciously quiet, slick mouth mashed against the point of Hanzo’s shoulder, muffling every sound against the shifting muscle and hard bone.

Such silly boys.

So sweet for her.

She’d let them come this time. They’d earned it – and she had as well. She wanted to sit back and enjoy the sight of Hanzo’s balls jerking and his cock swelling as he pumped Jack full.

She wanted to be there in their post coital bliss, pushing their sweaty, meaty bodies apart with self-assured negligence until Hanzo slipped out of the newly fucked hole and fell heavily on his side so she could insinuate herself between; make them cuddle up to her and keep her warm with their disgusting, stinking bodies tacky and sticky with cum and spit.

She wanted to be really up close to the Soldier’s face – ignoring Hanzo; that pretty, stoic face of his, the languid stretch of his body, the fact he knew how gorgeous he was, knowing herself how much he hated being ignored in favor of others – when she reached down and pushed two or three little fingers into his raw, swollen hole, playing with the warm mess Hanzo left inside of him as she purred: “Just like the real thing… right?”

She couldn’t help how much she wanted to break them down.

Shit man just gimme more young brat McCree calling Gabe ‘Daddy’ as he gets the lights fucked clean out of him. (Hell, time fuckery and young blackwatch McCree gets fucked by Reaper and still calls him ‘Daddy’)

Same anon as timefuckery but MAN GIVE ME TRANSGENDER YOUNG MCCREE CALLING GABE/REAPER DADDY. Just fuck me up fam.

It was the worst when Jesse still had the mind and audacity to laugh as Gabriel felt him up; ranging above the skinny body, mouth on one nipple barely cushioned by the little bit of fat that remained even after his life in Deadlock, and big fingers diving deep into the mess that was his cunt, hidden beneath the unkempt tangle of his pubes; a sweet little space for Gabriel to wreck and get soft and spread on his thrusting, twisting fingers.

If Jesse still could laugh, fingers scratching Gabriel’s shoulders up, knees jittery and jumping next to his hips, it meant that he was doing something wrong. That he hadn’t made Jesse sorry for being such an infuriating slut that could never sit fucking still.

He grunts, Jesse’s breathless giggling ringing in his ears, and bites meanly at the small, brown nipple just to get McCree to make another sound. He chokes on his goddamn laughter and becomes absolutely still for a second, fingers trying and failing to grab at Gabriel’s shorn head, spasming at his scalp and pressing his face close to his chest, mashing his scarred nose into the small, hard pillow of his tit before he whispers a small, almost awed sounding “Oh.”

Gabriel snorts, eyebrows drawn in concentration, fingers sliding through the mess of slick between Jesse’s thighs and carding away the generous tangle of his pubes, seeking… seeking… and finally finding Jesse’s clit.

Jesse howls and bucks up, legs lifting into the air without prompting, long narrow feet bouncing in the air as he tries to make Gabriel rub him the way he likes it; in sharp and hard little circles right across the fat nub as he kept him filled with two fingers, testing the give of his walls, how ready he was…

“Daddy,” Jesse whines suddenly, his voice all over the place. Gabriel grins and simply changes nipples, teeth sharp as he tests the very edges against the small nipple.

Jesse forgets to breathe, eager fear making him pat Gabriel’s back down with shivery hands. He fears his teeth just as much as he looks forward to them.

“Daddy,” he whispers, hips twisting, fucking up, “Daddy, please.”

At least he wasn’t laughing anymore. He always forgot to be a little punk shit when Gabriel put his mind to it. Jesse is tall and broad in the shoulders and still his snatch looks so damnably tiny whenever Gabriel nudges his cock up against it. In the diffuse light the soft insides are as bright red as a stop sign in midst of his pubes. A slick, glinting gash for Gabriel to nudge the head of his dick through; let it take a sniff of the treat it was to get.

“Yeah? You want your Daddy to fuck you like this? With your skinny legs in the air like a whore?” he growls and tilts his hips forward, the very tip starting to slowly, agonizingly spread Jesse open.

He goes silent, then. Gabriel can see his toes curl and spread rhythmically where they hang in the air, just about bouncing in his peripheral.

“Never get a fuckin’ word out when you’re supposed to,” he grunts, pushing in deeper, beads of sweat starting to form on his forehead as the squishy walls immediately close around him warm and welcoming; trying to suckle him deeper into that goddamn trap.

Jesse’s voice has become very high and very soft. Little ‘oh… oh… oh’s as he waits for Gabriel to fill him; stretch him out on his commander’s big cock until he can feel it warm his belly from the inside.

“You’ll learn,” Gabriel promises against a scruffy jaw, large hand cupping a small, hard tit and squeezing it. “You’ll learn, baby.”

‘Big boy whining’ should not be a hot phrase for me but somehow, it is. Someone sexily humiliating Jesse for it. Such an eager, jumping, big cock. More blood there than in his head. His tangled bush. That obvious, slutty body of his. Exposing his hairy tits and squeezing his belly. Making him wear lacy underwear that doesn’t fit him. Laying his luscious thickness over their knees to spank his glorious fat ass. Jesse feels clumsy and oversized and over full and so young again. Big silly boy.

“You’re so silly,” Genji coos, foot placed with careful force on McCree’s cock, pressing it into the softness of his hairy belly. McCree breathes out noisily through his nostrils, lips pressed into a tight line and head falling back as he rolls his sturdy hips up into the pressure, fucking that lovely, fat cock against the unyielding sole of the cyborg’s foot.

“You’re already so worked up. Just from a little bit of pussy?”

McCree’s tits jump as he jerks. They’re just chubby enough to have a lovely jiggle to them, big, hairy biceps tensing where he holds himself up on his elbows. He loves the way Genji’s heavy accent wraps itself around naughty words.

Genji smirks.

“Hey. Hey, look here.” He waits until McCree lifts his head again to reach down and hook fingers into the synthetic material shielding his cunt and pull it aside to show off the plush, synthetic lips – how already there was glowing green sticky wetness smeared across them. He was just as easy as McCree, but they enjoyed it differently.

“Do you want a taste?”

McCree’s chin was on his chest as he stared up at him with large, canine eyes of worship, beard looking as tangled and as unkempt as his bush. There were times Genji sat back and just watched McCree talk to others; watching the way his jaw moved and fantasizing about how good it felt against his cunt – just as delicious as his pubes when Genji crammed himself full with that big American cock.

He almost misses the McCree nodding, licking his lips, a drawled “Yeah, please” rumbling from the wide barrel of his chest.

“Should I give it to you now, though?” Genji teases, fingers dipping into his slit and spreading it for McCree’s viewing pleasure; letting him see the candy green stickiness lighting the darkness of his cunt. Always so easy to fuck him in the dark; even McCree bumbling and half-asleep could stuff his cock in a glowing, warm hole and work his magic with those wide hips rolling easy and relaxed…

He didn’t need to hear McCree’s rumbling whine to get into motion, although it was a nice bonus. He gave his cock another loving nudge before sitting down on his thick belly in a smooth, fast motion, dragging his pussy against the thick hair growing over his belly button and smearing his candy juices everywhere.

“McCree,” he whispers, fingers splaying across the hirsute chest as he rolls his hips, drags the fat, sensitive clit Mercy had give him across the coarse hair of his belly. “Jesse.”

His voice is high and urgent, nearly imitating McCree’s usual impatient whines. He can feel him grip his ass, large hands easily cupping him, and almost thinks he’ll urge him up and towards his soft, greedy mouth.

Instead, he helps him move and fuck himself against the thick wall of muscle of his belly, His eyes wide and nostrils flaring as he stares down his body. McCree looks almost boyish in that moment.

So eager.

Goddamn this live-write took so long but now it’s done. Some sexy threesome with angst and plot at the end. mmmhhh ❤ ❤ dom!lucio/sub!Gabe

Lúcio’s hand slowly strokes across Gabriel’s skull, feeling the spring of the curls on top. He threads his fingers through and tugs, watching the muscles in Gabriel’s neck loosen, his head tilting back minutely.

“You sure you want this?” he asks somewhat reluctant, right hand idly playing with the electric razor. He likes Gabriel’s curls, they make for a good kind of distraction when he needs to move his fingers, but Gabriel has been a good boy recently and it had been his only request yet.

“Do it,” he grunts, finger tapping against his naked thigh, then adds as an afterthought: “Please.”

Lúcio sighs and strokes across his hair one last time before setting to work.

In and of itself, it was… nice. Gabriel was relaxed, sitting naked in the open kitchen, eyes nearly closed in lazy contentment as the electric razor starts to slowly buzz along the shape of his head. In Lúcio’s opinion he looks like a big cat. He kind of wants to put the razor down and cuddle with Gabriel – crawl onto his sub’s lap and bask in this rare gentle mood of his… and maybe reach down between those thick thighs and take his cock in hand; big and heavy and warm even soft as it is now.

He lets his thoughts drift; thinking about how subtly Gabriel had already changed since their first meeting in the club; how his submission was, if not given easily, then at least not accompanied with the near constant surge of self-loathing that seemed to have clung to him for the longest time.

“Keep still, pet,” he murmurs when Gabriel starts sliding down the chair and smirks when the man immediately sits back up, a little more alert, head tilting to try and peek behind at his Master. Lúcio clicks his tongue and taps his shoulder to get him back on track.

It doesn’t take long at all to finish his task. Gabriel is fidgeting minutely, trying and failing not to be annoyed by the shorn hair littering his naked chest and tickling down his back. He does try to stay still, though – just like asked.

“Good boy,” Lúcio purrs, putting the razor away, eyes fixed on the back of his sub’s head. Without the mop of curls on top, Gabriel looks shockingly vulnerable. Lúcio felt like he could get used to this. Gabriel soft and sweet for him…

His hand rubs across the new buzz cut, humming at the nice feeling of the short hair scraping along his palm. Gabriel turns his head into the touch seemingly mindlessly. When Lúcio leans across his shoulder to peer into his face, Gabriel looks already half-way down; mouth soft and open, lips wet, eyes glassy…

“You liked that, pet?” Lúcio asks softly. He slips to the front, squatting down, hands on Gabriel’s knees. Gabriel blinks slowly like it is an effort to do so, then slides his gaze away somewhat stubbornly. He shrugs his shoulders.

Lúcio is not deterred, hands rubbing warm along Gabriel’s calves, feeling the coarse hair on his shins. “You like it when I take care of you, don’t you? You always become such a sweet boy when I take my time to make you pretty for me…”

Gabriel’s mouth falls open, pupils blowing wide. They eat up the lovely brown of his iris; Lúcio would need to lean in close now to see any color at all. The moment of cautious bliss is somewhat dampened by Gabriel’s quick turn-around; eyebrows drawing together, broad shoulders twitching like he wants to pull them up to his ears.

“Why do you want to make me pretty?”

Lúcio is sure he wants to spit out the last word, though it actually comes out a little breathy. Insecure. Lúcio hums, weighing his options.

Truth be told, he couldn’t say he hadn’t thought about how plain difficult life was with this particular man; how much easier it would’ve been with a person with less baggage; someone that played with him just out of the sheer joy of getting to submit – someone who didn’t fight him every step of the way while insulting him just for good measure.

He also thought that Gabriel’s submission, as hard won as it was, was the sweetest of it all – if he managed to coax it out of him, that was.

“Because I like it. You’re my pretty boy.” He leans up now, bracing himself on Gabriel’s thighs and pressing a kiss against his lips. He can feel his goatee tickling against Gabriel’s beard. Acting on a gut feeling – as he was always quick to do – he adds: “And I’d really like to show you off sometime. Show others what a pretty pet I’ve gotten myself.”

His hands curl around Gabriel’s thick wrist, pulling him up into a standing position. The man is quiet and pliant, face blank as Lúcio’s words don’t seem to have registered yet. He can pinpoint the exact moment when they do: Gabriel suddenly halts on the way to the bathroom, a strangely strangled grunt escaping his throat.

“What do you mean?”

“Exactly what I said.” He is careful not to look back. He can picture the look on Gabriel’s face – trying so very hard to be impassive and simultaneously giving away everything. He knows he would backpaddle immediately; assure Gabriel that it had been nothing but empty talk on his part – when in reality he has been thinking about it for quite a while now.

Fantasizing of taking Gabriel with him to one of the clubs and put him on a stage there; all that lovely brown skin on display – showing everybody the gorgeous muscles and how out of it Gabriel could become if just handled right. (How very sensual he was when deep down in his head space; smiling a little and turning dream-like and needy into his dom’s hands…)

He pulls again and Gabriel, thankfully, follows. As they walk, Lúcio starts talking again, keeping his voice light and casual; like he hasn’t been rolling this thing around his head for weeks now, wondering how best to broach the subject (and not dreaming that it would simply slip out like this).

“I would really enjoy showing you off. Stripping you for someone to look at. Play with your body. Let them see what a gorgeous sub I have.”

Gabriel’s breathing is deep and loud behind him. His hand, when Lúcio’s grip slips down to curl around his fingers as they approach the shower, is clammy with sweat.

“I’ve already thought of someone… an… old friend of mine. He’s somewhat of a mentor? Like – he showed me the ropes of how to… uh… do this. Y’know.”

He gestures weakly at nothing in particular, getting frustrated at his own cowardice. When he finally turns around, Gabriel is just staring, eyes large, scarred face drawn tight. He looks downright afraid and Lúcio feels like a heel. He throws him a grin and squeezes his fingers, ushering him into the shower. “Actually… just forget about it, alright? It’s okay. I figured you wouldn’t like it and that’s absolutely okay. Don’t worry about it.”

He grimaces at his own ineptitude. Gabriel says nothing. He steps into the shower, the muscles in his back tense, nothing to be seen of the earlier lassitude from getting his head shorn.

Lúcio sighs and sits down on the closed toilet lid, watching as the other man soaps himself up. When Gabriel suddenly speaks, Lúcio nearly jumps.

“You don’t want to… give me around. Or something.”

His brain needs a moment or two to get over the thought of giving Gabriel around like some kind of party favor – have other people play with his body and put him through his paces… He likes the thought, if he is being honest, but…

“No. Just one person; and he’d not touch you if you don’t want him to.”

Gabriel is quiet a little more but he at least turns around now. Lúcio can’t say for sure but he has the feeling his sub is watching him from beneath wet eyelashes – assessing him in that scarily scrutinizing way he had.

“Just one person?” he ventures at last, hands starting to slow from their rigorous scrubbing of his chest into an almost thoughtful, sensual slide down his muscled belly. Lúcio watches their descent and how they slide into the thick patch of pubes in his groin.

His mouth gets dry as he realizes Gabriel is on his best way to getting hard. God, but he had a gorgeous submissive.

“Just one, babe. I’d be very proud to show you off to him. Let him see how well I’ve trained you already.”

Lúcio feels like he can almost see the flush in Gabriel’s cheeks. He looks almost reluctantly pleased. By now, Lúcio can see the metal glinting on the underside of his cock, and his fingers tingle with the need to play with that lovely dick – maybe get out one of Gabriel’s toys and edge him for a while…

“I’ll… think about it.”

Lúcio blinks rapidly and lifts his gaze, staring at Gabriel as his chest seems to fill with a balloon of fierce, acute affection for this difficult man.

“You got it, babe. And now c’mere so I can dry you off and play with you until you cry for me, hm?”

.oOo.

Lúcio would have loved to have a camera just to take a picture of Gabriel’s face the first time he laid eyes on Reinhardt. He could see the petulant sneer melting off of the man’s face to be replaced by confusion and then something almost… shy.

Lúcio was fascinated.

It wasn’t like Gabriel suddenly went belly-up for them, but his usual taciturn, ill-tempered barbs didn’t have any sting to them. It was like his head wasn’t in the game, eyes strangely soft and vulnerable, sliding towards Reinhardt again and again. Like he couldn’t fathom the sheer mass of the man.

If Lúcio had to take a guess, he’d say Gabriel rarely had gotten to play with doms that were so much bigger than him – if ever.

“You are gorgeous,” Reinhardt is purring now, standing to the side after they migrated into the bedroom, hands folded behind his back as he watches Gabriel slowly unbutton the shirt Lúcio had put out for him earlier. (And how much Gabriel loved it when Lúcio took care of him like that; even if he would never admit it of his own free will). “AAaaahaha,” he sighs, a good natured laugh rumbling through his chest, eyes roaming the exposed skin and zeroing in on the little glints of silver pierced through Gabriel’s nipples. “How exciting! I’ve never had a pet with such pretty jewelry. I am jealous, my friend.”

He slants his one-eyed gaze towards Lúcio, sitting on the edge of the bed and kicking his feet – yet Lúcio is fairly certain he doesn’t miss the way Gabriel ducks his head minimally, shoulders pulling up towards his ears in a surprisingly endearing, bashful gesture. Lúcio could feel himself get breathless even through the broad grin he threw his old mentor.

He’d never gotten to see Gabriel like this before. It was exciting.

“I know. He’s got pretty sensitive tits, too. It’s fun to play with them.”

Gabriel’s head snaps around, staring at Lúcio with an incredulous stare – as if he can’t believe Lúcio would betray him like that. His eyes are soft, though; as soft as his mouth, dropped open a little, face darkening with an embarrassed flush.

“Shit,” he murmurs and returns to the task of unbuttoning his shirt, slowly slipping it off his arms – shoulders pulled up a little higher still. Reinhardt ignores the expletive, eyes intent and kind, his rumbling voice dropping down just a bit more: “Is that so? Do you have sensitive tits, pet?”

Lúcio can see Gabriel’s shoulders flex, his posture getting more stubborn after a moment of him standing frozen, surprised at getting addressed in such a way.

“I guess,” he concedes with a grudging mumble, the tips of his ears burning. Lúcio wants to rub his palm across his shaven head.

“Would you like to show it to me? I would very much like to see…”

Gabriel sucks in a sharp breath, and Reinhardt tilts his head forward, body following the careful angling, hands still behind his back: “Or maybe you would allow me to… test it?”

“No!” Gabriel barks out, sudden and defensive, then back paddles immediately while Lúcio leans forward and hooks his hand into the back of his pants, pulling him towards the bed to sit between his legs. “I mean. I’ll – show you.”

Reinhardt nods jovially, casting a look around for a chair which he finds at Lúcio’s desk.

“That is quite alright. I can barely wait – you are such a pretty pet. I heard Lúcio praise you to high heavens. I’m very pleased that you allowed me to watch in the first place.”

Lúcio can feel Gabriel’s breathing against his chest. It’s fast and shallow – almost panting. His fingers are curled into his pants, eyes fixed unwaveringly on Reinhardt as he seats himself comfortably, his huge form seemingly pronounced by the regular-sized items around him.

Gabriel is absolutely mesmerized by him, and Lúcio has to admit that this playdate has been one of his better ideas.

.o.

“That’s it,” Lúcio mumbles right into Gabriel’s ear, his tongue flicking out to lick along the cartilage because that never failed to make his sub squirm and thrust his chest out for their audience’s viewing pleasure. “Don’t touch them directly,” he orders gently, fingers comfortably weaved together and hands lying on Gabriel’s heaving, hard belly. “Round them some more. That’s it. Why don’t you bump one again? Show Reinhardt how pretty your jewelry glints.”

Gabriel whimpers at that even before he shifts one broad fingertip and nudges gingerly at one end of the barbell piercing. He throws his head back, sweat gleaming on the exposed skin of his scalp, lips pulling back in a silent, needy snarl.

“Have you got your eyes open, babe? Are you watching Reinhardt like we told you to?”

Reinhardt laughs low and rough, leaning forward, elbows coming to rest on his massive thighs. There’s an almost feverish glint in his good eye and Lúcio is stupidly happy about how much his old friend seems to enjoy himself.

“He is. Yes. Like a good boy. You can follow orders well, can’t you? Schätzchen…”

Gabriel groans in the back of his throat, back arching, other hand coming up to lustfully cup both his pecs and squeeze them, his broad palms grinding across the puffy, sensitive mess that are his nipples after playing with them for a while.

“Beautiful,” Reinhardt sighs, leans back, spreads his knees wide and lets both Lúcio and Gabriel see the obscene bulge in his pants.

“Oh God,” Gabriel chokes out, voice high and thin in a way Lúcio has never heard. It almost sounds like a question, lilting up at the end, disbelieving of what he is seeing. He squirms in front of Lúcio, muscles beneath his hands flexing as Gabriel curls his hips and meanly, mindlessly pinches his own nipples between thumbs and forefingers, eyes fixed on their guest.

The sound he makes is nearly comically confused and hurt – like he can’t fathom where the pain is coming from, broad hips shifting. When Lúcio slides his hand down, it doesn’t take long until he bumps into Gabriel’s erection tenting the front of his sweatpants.

Reinhardt laughs, head tilted back, a deep, rumbling sound straight from his very core, it seemed. “Would you look at that! What a little pain slut. How pretty. Hübsches Ding.”

Gabriel shudders, presses back into Lúcio with a force that nearly topples him back onto the bed – against the body mass of his sub, he has no chance, but he presses back as well as he can, trying to give Gabriel enough to lean on.

He sounds so small and vulnerable; the sounds he makes high-pitched and dying as he tugs on his piercings openly now, torments his nipples until they look puffy and positively raw, while his cock keeps wetting through the front of his grey sweats.

“Can he come like this?” Reinhardt asks softly, a little more restraint now, gaze roaming Gabriel’s body. “Just from getting his tits tormented?”

Gabriel lets his head fall back on a groan.

“Oh yes, he certainly can. I tried it almost two weeks straight. He was so desperate the first few times – swore up and down that he was gonna go insane; but he was such a good boy, keeping his hands at his sides, letting me scratch and pinch at his lovely tits until he finally managed to come for me. Fuck…”

Lúcio makes a soft sound, hips rocking into Gabriel’s ass just to relief some of the pressure of his swollen cock. He can still hear Gabriel’s begging: how his voice had cracked, all the vitriol and curses melting away into helpless mewls and shivery enquiries about getting to at least hold his cock; have his big fist around his dick and hug it to his belly as if that would help his predicament any.

Reinhardt looks hungry at that, leaning farther towards them still, a few strands of his gelled back hair dropping into his eyes and making him look a little wild.

Gabriel starts trembling in Lúcio’s arms – a faint vibration throughout his strong body that Lúcio can’t tell whether it stems from anticipation or dread; prey in front of a larger, benevolent predator.

“Were proud of him, weren’t you? Lovely sub coming just from getting his slutty tits played with.” He pauses at that, scrutinizing, watches Gabriel’s reaction and moves on when all he got was a throaty gurgle, Gabriel’s hands twitching at his sides. He sounds husky now, his voice a steady rumble filling the room with ease. “Yes. Lets his Master abuse his tits and comes from it, too. He looked lovely, didn’t he? Come-dumb; messy because he couldn’t hold it any longer. Little whore for his Master’s amusement.”

Lúcio can’t help but bite into Gabriel’s shoulder, hips curling, rocking up more insistently into his sub – dry humping him in a way he hadn’t done yet; always just playing with his submissive’s body, building up to finally fucking that gorgeous, dark space always clinging so beautifully to his fingers.

He feels feverish. Sick in the best way. He had always known that Reinhardt and he meshed well but never realized just how good the older dom really was; riling Lúcio up almost just as much as Gabriel.

He is playing with them both: letting them dance along the tune he’s setting, and Lúcio couldn’t start being mad at him even if he wanted to. His submissive is lapping it up by now, basically eating right out of Reinhardt’s palm as he makes soft, hurt sounds, the fresh stubble on his scalp rubbing against Lúcio’s throat and cheek. He is panting like a dog, loud and almost obnoxious, and Lúcio wants to fucking record it and listen to Gabriel on bad days when he needs a pick-me-up.

He jerked at getting called ‘whore’, gasping, squirming, and Reinhardt pounces immediately on the weakness.

“Is that what you are, Schätzchen? A whore?” He sounds kind as he says it – a little breathless, even. When Lúcio peers over the swell of Gabriel’s shoulder, Reinhardt’s face is flushed a little darker like he imbibed too much.

Gabriel jerks again, gurgles something unintelligible and shakes his head vigorously as he tries to turn away for the first time that evening, trying to hide his face in the crook of Lúcio’s shoulder. His skin feels feverishly hot. It fries Lúcio’s brain cells even though he knows he should be the one keeping a cool head – leading his sub through the experience of getting shared with another dom for the first time.

He mouths mindless and wet against the side of Gabriel’s face as he shudders, keyed up and high on the endorphins coursing through his body. It is by chance that he looks over to Reinhardt – sees the strict line to his mouth, the severe set of his eyebrows.

He halts and Reinhardt tilts his head forward.

“Your submissive is disobeying a rule, Sir.”

Lúcio blinks dumbly, brain sputtering as it first comes up short – difficult to think clearly when his arms are full of his big pet being as soft and needy as he’d rarely seen – before it finally kickstarts once more. The heat is still there; his cock still feeling overstuffed, balls ripe and sensitive, ready to jerk out an orgasm and cream Gabriel’s back like he always denied himself since starting their play… but it is more contained; more a hard, hot ball of need bouncing in his midst instead of an all encompassing wave of heat swamping and drowning him.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he croons, hands gentle but insistent as he starts denying Gabriel the reprieve of hiding himself away, making the weakly struggling man turn back around. “You need to watch our guest, or did you forget already? And he asked you a question. Don’t be rude. You’ve been such a good boy the whole evening, babe.”

“That he has. I bet he already earned himself a few treats for later,” Reinhardt adds, voice gentled down from earlier, gaze kind. Gabriel huffs – tries to growl, and build some of his walls back up – but it comes out like a pathetic sigh and he lets himself get repositioned again; back to his dom’s front, forced to look at Reinhardt, even if he turns his head a little – only glances from the corner of his eyes.

Reinhardt has leaned back again; body language loose and self-assured, one large hand rubbing thoughtfully against his jaw. When he speaks again, he has changed tactics once more, and Lúcio wonders whether this is deliberate rather than accidental: not merely a dom trying to find out what a sub needs but rather actively trying to unseat Gabriel and make him lose balance.

“I bet he would look gorgeous crawling for you,” he says. There’s no smile on his lips, face intent and serious, bushy eyebrows drawn together in concentration as he stares at Gabriel – takes him in, inspects him, imagines him crawling already.

“Little rings instead of those barbells and a silver chain to connect…”

Gabriel’s mouth drops open but no sound comes out. His hands stutter, hesitate, stop where they had been restlessly clawing at the bedding – one of them finally reaching slowly, hesitant like he is not sure whether he finds the thought hot enough to jerk off to, for the hard flex of his cock, pre-cum seeping through the material of his pants, getting them tacky and clingy.

“S-Sir!” he rasps – nothing more; voice wobbly and needy – enough to make Lúcio breathless.

“You’d like that, babe?” he croons with a slightly wobbling voice, and hooks his chin over the swell of Gabriel’s shoulder, watching Gabriel’s big fist clench over his cock, then reaching for it as well, smaller hand across Gabriel’s knuckles, easily taking control over what movements they were doing and how hard they were gripping. His sub was so easy to concede power to his smaller dom. “You wanna crawl for me sometime? Have me lead you around on your gorgeous tits? I could buy you a present, babe… pretty rings and chain just for you. Let me lavish gifts on my obedient pet.”

Gabriel – actually nods. A soft dip of his chin as he keeps squirming but sits like a good boy. Lets them play with him.

When Lúcio glances at Reinhardt, his old mentor looks satisfied; like a cat that got the cream – or more like a lion in his case.

His hands are on his knees, large fingers tapping slowly, idly, the gaze of his good eye roaming Gabriel’s body from the blissed out, soft expression on his scarred face to the glint of steel in his nipples, down to the tent in his sweatpants, cock flexing and pressing against the wet material.

“Will you show me your cock, little sub? Show me all of your body? I bet you can, Schätzchen. You’ve been so good for us the whole evening. Let me see how pretty you are. Your Master wanted to show you off to me, after all. He’s so proud of his gorgeous sub…”

Gabriel obeys mindlessly, movements clumsy, eyelids heavy – and Lúcio can’t even comprehend how much he adores his submissive in that moment.

.o.

Reinhardt isn’t banished from touching any longer.

Gabriel is almost sub-vocal; animalistic in his need as he stands between the bed and the chair and lets his sweatpants fall. He is not shaky on his knees, but all his movements are slow, measured, sluggish – like he has to focus on every motion and think it through before acting on it.

He is almost ridiculously careful when he lifts the elastic band out of the way of his cock to not pinch it, and still it bobs comically in the air, large and so heavy with blood it droops downward against one thick, muscular thigh.

Gabriel stands there, glancing between his dom sitting relaxed on the bed, happy grin on his face, towards their guest, a certain kind of vulnerable longing filling his expression until Reinhardt moves – lifts his hand and beckons him closer with a crook of his fingers.

Gabriel follows it seemingly helpless.

Lúcio unconsciously holds his breath when Reinhardt curls a large, warm hand around one wide hip, then lets it rush out when Gabriel doesn’t react other than sliding closer, letting himself get easily pulled between the lazy spread of the large man’s legs.

“Atemberaubend,” Reinhardt croons at him, looking Gabriel up and down. Lúcio has no idea what he’s saying but the tone of his voice is more telling anyway. It is weird to be watching his pet play with another dom – not at all like he thought this evening would go – but he can’t deny how gratifying the sight of Gabriel easily trusting is. He seems to be far down in his head, putting his hands onto Reinhardt’s broad shoulders without fuss when asked to do so and lets the large, callused hands explore his body further.

Reinhardt, for his part, moves like he has all right to the sub’s body; gentle yet unrelenting, feeling him up, squeezing his thighs and ass until Gabriel has to go up onto the balls of his feet – traces along the valley of his spine and takes his cock in hand to weigh it in his palm and give it a loving squeeze. He patiently listens to the sub whine and gives him a pump from his warm fist just for good measure – just to keep him on edge and wanting – before he lifts the cock farther up and inspects the metal he had glimpsed earlier.

“You are full of surprises, aren’t you.”

Gabriel squirms on the spot, toes curling against the naked floor boards, hips starting to hunch forward, trying to fuck against Reinhardt’s exploring fingers until the dom barks: “Still, now.”

Gabriel gasps, fingers clutching fists full of Reinhardt’s shirt – and Lúcio waits for the backlash; Gabriel’s petulant snarl, the embarrassed tilt to his shoulders when he feels like he got caught doing something illicit… it doesn’t come, though. He lets his head fall forward, watching Reinhardt play with his body, legs trembling like a young colt’s just from the effort of standing still like he got ordered to.

“You are a good boy,” Reinhardt suddenly says, voice pitched so low, Lúcio can barely understand – it is like it’s only meant for the two of them, and he feels bad for listening in… just not enough to stop.

Reinhardt has placed his large hand onto Gabriel’s belly, fingers spread, just pressing his palm against the tight muscles as he looks up at him, the fingers of the other absent mindedly tracing a deep scar on Gabriel’s back. “You are a very good boy – letting me play with you. Letting your Master show you off. He is very happy with you; he tells me so often. You don’t need to fight everything he asks of you – it is okay to feel happy when he praises you, even if it is just the little things.”

Lúcio’s fingers curl into the fabric of his pants, knuckles getting pale as he stares at Gabriel’s broad back. He seems to have stopped breathing, standing totally rigid, hands in fists at his sides.

Reinhardt’s voice drops a bit lower still, and Lúcio has no hope of catching what he is saying now; can only watch the strange jerking motions of Gabriel’s shoulders, and the movement of his head as he shakes it first and then nods it – slower, less assured.

Reinhardt’s fingers stop their ceaseless up-and-down motion along the scar, then he suddenly leans back, voice louder once more, easily filling the room.

“Well then go to your Master, pretty pet. Play with him – and maybe I’ll have a treat for you later.”

He lets one hand fall into the spread of his thighs, gripping himself unabashedly, smile back on his face and crinkling the corners of his eyes.

Gabriel tilts a little drunkenly on his axis as he turns around. His cheeks look strangely blotchy – like his body can’t decide whether it wants to flush or not – and his dark eyes look a little too wet; but when he drops onto his knees and crawls towards Lúcio on all fours, it is hard to focus on much else than the gorgeous creature as a whole – and Lúcio has trouble breathing.

He is mute when he spreads his legs, and lets his sub nudge between his knees. It is not the first time that he had Gabriel suck his cock, but it is the first time that Gabriel was looking so soft and sweet while doing it: face open, pretty brown eyes never leaving Lúcio’s face as he leans down to rub his cheek against the wet head of his cock.

A sticky smear remains when he pulls back to drag his tongue along the length, and Lúcio can’t help but touch it with the tips of his fingers, focusing on Gabriel’s little sound of happiness and how shockingly pink his tongue is. It looks like sweet candy and Lúcio wants to pull him up and kiss him but he doesn’t have the strength to do it: not with Gabriel humming a low sound of appreciation, lips pursing as he suckles on the very tip of the cock he’s playing with, teasing himself just as much with the taste and warmth as he was his dom.

He looks lovely when he finally slides farther down; takes Lúcio in on a steady, smooth glide that has his toes curl and the tips of his fingers prickle. He’s never met anybody that could give head as well as Gabriel could.

“You love cock so much, don’t you?” he murmurs, hand sliding across Gabriel’s scalp, feeling the gratifying rasp of the stubble against his palm. Gabriel goes nearly cross-eyed with bliss, nudging closer still until Lúcio puts one leg across his broad shoulder to accommodate his needy submissive.

Gabriel makes it sloppy and wet, liberally drooling and noisily slurping as he moves his head in slow, self-indulging drags, tongue pressed almost too harshly against the sensitive head, cushioning it as much as it was pushing it up against his hard palate.

“God, baby boy,” Lúcio groans – whines – back arching and fingers spasming against the back of Gabriel’s shorn head, heel digging hard into the ground as he gets pushed to the razor sharp edge of pain and pleasure.

Gabriel is still staring at him, eyes almost vacant, large, warm hands on Lúcio’s thighs, rubbing mindless circles with his thumbs. He is not moving much; mostly suckling in quiet satisfaction, and when Lúcio starts using him – hands framing his face and leading his head to dip in deep, pushing until he is just about to slip down his throat – Gabriel lets him.

“Beautiful,” Reinhardt sighs. He has left his spot on the chair to drift over to them, and lowers himself into a squat next to Gabriel with a low groan and a breathless chuckle when his joints pop loudly. “Gettin’ too old for this,” he murmurs, watching with almost polite interest as Lúcio tilts Gabriel’s head for both their viewing pleasure as he playfully nudges his cock against the inside of Gabriel’s cheek, making it bulge obscenely.

“He’s such an obedient boy.” Reinhardt lifts his hand slowly, and when Gabriel doesn’t react – eyes glassy and still fixed up on his dom’s face – he starts rubbing a big, rough fingertip against the outline of Lúcio’s cock.

Lúcio hisses, grinning sharp and with clenched teeth, eyebrows drawn together as he shifts Gabriel’s head once more, pushing him down and making him gag soft and wet around his cock, throat massaging, little puffs of air ruffling the tight curls at the base of his cock. Just a little more and Gabriel’s nose is pressed against his warm skin, his submissive’s hands no longer moving, just gripping tight and almost bruising as he lets himself get choked, eyes clenched and tears shining at the corners.

“He is,” Lúcio huffs, fingertips spasming against Gabriel’s scalp when he feels his throat squeeze down again, harder this time, Gabriel’s body getting tense the longer he has to stay down without air, getting bracketed on both sides by the doms surrounding him, bearing down on him, keeping him in place and locked down at their mercy…

Lúcio counts under his breath, an easy countdown of five before he abruptly lets Gabriel back up. The submissive wrenches his head back with a large, liquid gulp of air, a thick strand of saliva connecting him still to the flushed head of Lúcio’s cock. His eyes are huge, chest heaving, body shaking… and still he remains kneeling, lets himself get caged in by the patient, iron will of his dom and the huge body of a stranger.

“Pretty boy,” Lúcio coos, chest feeling too small for the bubble of fierce, warm affection filling him, as he leans down and hugs Gabriel’s head to his belly. “My pretty, good boy.”

Gabriel is still huffing and very quiet, but his hips are moving – shimmying left and right, subconsciously seeking friction for his cock which is lying blood filled and heavy in his lap.

Reinhardt watches quietly, a little smirk nearly hidden by his beard. He lets them calm down for a moment before he starts shifting, large hand carefully rubbing warm and soothing along the submissive’s trembling, scarred back.

“I think he earned his treat, now. Come on – up with you.”

Gabriel is almost kitten weak at this point, big, muscled body lax as they pull him up unto the bed and make him stretch out, a soft sound of pain dribbling from him as he straightens his legs out after kneeling for so long.

“Here. Keep your hands where I put them,” Reinhardt tells him, speaking slow and careful so Gabriel will understand through the fog clearly filling his head. He presses them next to his shoulders, squeezing his wrists for good measure to get his point across. Gabriel stares at him with an almost vacant expression before his eyes start roaming again, seeking his dom and settling on Lúcio when he shifts to be within easier reach.

“And your legs… nice and up…” Reinhardt murmurs, arm hooking below Gabriel’s knees, pushing them up until his lovely ass is exposed, testicles peeking out large and dark between the thick muscles of his thighs.

When he starts squirming, Lúcio shushes him, one hand reaching for Gabriel’s pierced cock and curling around it – not moving, just holding on to give him something to fixate on.

“Let us reward you,” he croons, and when Gabriel calms down again; looks, in fact, eager when he sees Reinhardt fish out the bottle of lube, large, thick cock pulsing warm and needy in his palm, he has to think again about how much he wants to capture these moments. Take pictures of his slutty, trusting sub – film him and how gorgeously he submits, so he can show him later and make him appreciate how obedient he is for his dom…

He gets distracted by Gabriel groaning and squirming again, though this time downwards, trying to get more of the wide fingertip pressing their way inside, and… fuck if that wasn’t a gorgeous sight.

.o.

Gabriel is needy for kisses, and Lúcio tries to accommodate him as often as possible, but the sight of Reinhardt fucking him on his thick fingers is too mesmerizing to ignore for long. He’s been allowed to stretch one leg back out, the other one hooked over Reinhardt’s shoulder, giving him access to the sweet, little muscle currently clenching around just two of his fingers.

They look obscene, stretching him open, thick knuckles pressing against the rim and forcing it to open up for more, deeper, wider. Gabriel’s hands were curled into sweaty fists at his ears, his chest jumping with panting breaths as Reinhardt pushes in deeper, a low rumble of satisfaction rolling from him like thunder.

“You are so very soft inside,” he comments, his other fist curled around his cock, slowly pumping himself to relieve some of the almost painful tension. Lúcio tried to imagine the wide, dusky head pressing into Gabriel’s body, and failed. He wonders whether Gabriel could take him. Whether he would take him if Lúcio asked him; trying so hard to work himself onto the obscene dick, let his little cunt get spread beyond repair…

“So very soft and warm. Pretty little hole so perfect to cushion cocks, hm? You were built for it, weren’t you?”

Gabriel makes a small sound of confirmation even as he slants his eyes away and to the side, not able to look at either of them as he carefully curls his hips, fucking down against the broad fingers fucking him, his cock lying warm and heavy across his clenching abdomen.

“I bet your dominant loves to fuck that sweet little space. You keep him so warm and snug inside your body, don’t you?”

His voice is almost just a meaningless rumble, pitched so low Gabriel mindlessly nods along, mouth wet and open, eyes fixed on the large cock in the big fist – how the head glistens with pre-cum.

“He’s not had the privilege yet,” Lúcio interjects, a little smirk curling the corners of his mouth. He feels like a king, watching his pet get fucked and sampled by another; how Gabriel shows his best side off. “We’re still working on it.”

“I see.” Reinhardt turns his head and presses a tickling kiss against the outside of Gabriel’s knee, his fingers pushing in a little deeper still until Gabriel’s mouth opens wide in a cry that has first a false start, then stutters out of him broken and pathetic at the feeling of two broad fingertips rubbing up against his prostate for the first time.

“I bet your Master will have a treat for you these coming days. You’ve been so good, little submissive.”

Gabriel angles his head back, pressing it into the cushion, eyes clenched shut as he tries to ride out the waves of clenching, warm pleasure rolling through him, his hips jerking against the unrelenting pressure located somewhere deep in his pelvis.

Reinhardt glances towards Lúcio and they throw each other knowing, feral grins.

.o.

Gabriel’s hands are still curled at his shoulders – sweet little kitten paws that he hasn’t dared taking down since Reinhardt had put them there with his own large hands, warm and insistent as he’d pressed them to their place.

He’s not looking at them – he’s not looking at anything in particular, just coasting on the feeling of his release and the warmth sloshing through his body like a wave, muscles shivery and twitching as they slowly relax from their cramp.

Lúcio watches as his sub’s wide hips curl into the air slowly, sluggishly, as if he was still fucking – as if his body hadn’t registered yet that everything was done; those shockingly large fingers no longer fucking him and spreading his poor rim apart.

His cock looks delectable, lying in the mess he made on his belly, still thick and chubby, inviting for a mouth to lick him until he cried of over sensitivity.

Reinhardt is breathing carefully deep where he crouches next to the bed. Lúcio wonders whether he could actually go again. The thought of watching his old mentor jerk off across Gabriel’s face once more makes his heart pound an almost painfully fast tattoo against his ribs.

Seeing Gabriel blissed out and turning his face into the thick ribbons of cum splashing against his cheeks… Seeing him trying to lap it all up, not caring about looking silly as he stuck his tongue far out,restricted by nothing but his Master’s firm voice…

…it had been nice. Very nice. Fuck, but he wanted to see this more often: His pet playing with other doms, showing them what a good boy he was, letting them jerk off on him and thanking them with the same breathy voice he’d thanked Reinhardt with earlier. It had went straight to Lúcio’s core, feeding that place that told him to squirrel Gabriel away and keep him safe…

“Are you feeling well, babe?” he croons, head still hot and feeling like it is filled with cotton, cock pressing insistently into his sub’s thick thigh as he stretches out next to him and lays an unrestricting, possessive hand across his throat. “You looked gorgeous right now.”

He rasps it right into Gabriel’s ear, feels how his submissive is warm and pliant, making soft, high pitched noises like a little animal, Adam’s apple bobbing beneath the palm of Lúcio’s hand.

“Maybe Reinhardt can come again… I bet he could if you were very nice to him. Wouldn’t you like that? Play with his big, fat cock some more?”

Gabriel groans, low and wrecked, a drawn-out sound that Lúcio couldn’t even hope to interpret. He turns his head, trying to hide his sticky face against Lúcio’s shoulder, obviously loathe to admit that he would very much like that. Reinhardt only laughs, rumbling and tired – but not denying Lúcio’s proposition, he notices with a spike of excitement.

Maybe his sub needs a little more encouragement…? Help him shake off the lethargy, even though he has to be so very tired now, lovely body stretched out for them to do as they please. He presses a kiss against Gabriel’s temple, feeling the scratch of his shorn scalp against his cheek and whispers with a low rasp: “I could record you playing with him, pretty boy… So we’ll have something for later, and you can see how you-”

His reaction time is sluggish. Maybe he would have been able to dodge had he not been so fixated on his own, throbbing dick – had he, in fact, had even an inkling that what he had said was upsetting to Gabriel.

As it is, he didn’t.

All that registers is the sudden angry pounding on the side of his head, ear ringing with the blow he had received. There is a commotion and loud voices and it takes Lúcio surprisingly long to realize he was staring at the ceiling, knocked flat after receiving a sharp elbow to the temple.

The throbbing is so sharp and angry, he wonders whether he’s bleeding, hand uncoordinated as he pats the side of his face, trembling fingers nearly pushing into his eye before he manages to lay them at his temple.

There is no blood on them, but he can already feel a swelling starting up. He blinks slowly, then registers how quiet it had become all of a sudden, and that more than anything finally jerks him out of the confused stupor and makes him sit up abruptly, nearly knocking heads with a concerned Reinhardt.

“Are you well?” He is holding a towel and when he presses it to the side of Lúcio’s face, he realizes that it is wrapped around an ice pack.

Lúcio hisses and squeezes his eye shut on that side – before stopping that as well because every twitch of his facial muscles seems to hurt. He stares mutely at Reinhardt, then looks around the room, gaze settling finally on Gabriel sitting on the chair Reinhardt had vacated earlier, slumped forward, elbows braced on his thighs.

He was still naked, body covered in a thin sheen of sweat.

“Yeah. Oh man… What the heck…?” He gingerly takes the towel out of Reinhardt’s hand and presses it against the throbbing himself. It already starts to calm down, and the roiling in his stomach is settling. Reinhardt is keeping a close eye on him as he shimmies his way to the edge of the bed but relaxes when he gets on his feet without wobbling.

“What happened?” he asks the room at large, though his eyes are on Gabriel. He isn’t looking at either of them and, as if feeling his dominant’s gaze on him, lets his head sag even further down. He is shaking, Lúcio registers now.

He feels a little numb, confused about how things could’ve changed so quickly from the warm, post-coital cuddling to… this.

“Gabriel?”

He steps closer and carefully leans down to catch his submissive’s face – wincing as the blood surges into his head at the new elevation – and frowns when Gabriel immediately turns away with a gruff grunt, shoulder curling up to shield himself even more.

“What happened? Did I scare you or something? I mean…”

He reaches a hand out for Gabriel’s shoulder and sucks in a sharp breath when he feels how cold he is; the sweat coating him out of nervous fright, he realizes now.

“Damn. Come on, you’re ice cold, you’re going to get sick. Reinhardt, help me.”

Reinhardt hums and nods, quietly assisting as they start putting a vaguely resisting Gabriel into a hoodie and sweats.

The sub is shaking so subtly he’s nearly vibrating, breath coming in uneven little gulps of air until Lúcio wonders whether he is crying – but when he dips his head and catches a glimpse of his face, he’s just staring down onto the ground, bottom lip caught between his teeth, face worryingly pale beneath his dark skin.

“Do you want to shower?” he asks him slowly. Gabriel jerks a small glance at him. His pupils are small as pinpricks. He looks ready to bolt and Lúcio feels sick to his stomach. He’s never seen Gabriel like this. Angry and stubborn and spitting mad, yeah – but not as quietly afraid as he was now, standing rigid between the two doms and getting a little green around the nose as if –

He bolts, suddenly, running straight for the bathroom, and just a moment later they can hear him retching.

Lúcio stands helplessly, eyes seeking out his old mentor while his temple is still throbbing distractingly.

“What happened?”

Reinhardt stares at the half-open bathroom door and lifts both shoulders in a small shrug.

“War flashbacks, I’d say.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Reinhardt turns his head so he can peer at him with his good eye, bushy brows raised in surprise.

“Are you sure you don’t understand?”

Lúcio slings his arms around his chest, slowly rubbing palms up and down his upper arms. He stares almost moodily into Reinhardt’s face before he feels the angry denial melting away, and his shoulders sag a little.

“He… he never told me anything. I didn’t want to – I didn’t want to make him afraid of me. Holy shit, have you seen his face? He hates me.”

His voice is breaking a little and he is annoyed at his own childishness. Reinhardt huffs and places a large hand on his shoulder to give him a friendly squeeze.

“You know that’s not it. And we all know you didn’t do it on purpose. I just…”

His gaze slides away and back towards the door. There’s still the occasional retching to be heard; mostly there’s ominous quiet coming out of the bathroom, though. Reinhardt’s face looks tense. Strangely pensive.

“Can I leave you two alone? I want to… look something up. It’s just that something has been nagging me since I’ve seen him and I want to check it out. Will you be okay without me? I don’t think he will become violent again.”

Lúcio bites the tip of his tongue to stifle the question but it bubbles out anyway.

“What am I supposed to do now?”

Reinhardt smirks at him and pats his back.

“I taught you better than that.”

Yeah… he did.

.o.

Gabriel was still cowering in front of the toilet, his hood up, though if his position was any indication, he was lying his head on the toilet seat and simply staring ahead of himself.

Lúcio let the door softly bang against the wall as he pushed it open, and when Gabriel doesn’t react – and screams at him to get the fuck out – he lets out the breath he had been holding, stomach unclenching from the tight, painful fist it had been in.

“Hey. You feeling better?” he asks softly, crouching down behind his sub, hand rubbing warm and soothing along the broad back. He had at least stopped shaking, even if he wasn’t turning into the touch like he usually would.

“Guess so.”

He sounds petulant, and Lúcio has to smile a bit – only with one side of his mouth so it didn’t put another strain on what was by now a sizeable bump. He carefully lets himself down next to the toilet, leaning against the cool wall. It feels good; helps him to calm down and ground himself.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

Lúcio plays with the hem of Gabriel’s hoodie, quietly nodding along even though Gabriel could not see him.

“You have an insane left hook. All that training you’re doing is paying off. Maybe you can teach me some day? So I can at least defend me and my skinny ass.”

Gabriel hums low, non-committal. He leans up, sitting a little straighter, though he has his head still curled away, not letting Lúcio get a glimpse of his face.

“I’m sorry. For hitting you.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m sorry for making you upset.”

Gabriel flinches at that, fingers drumming restlessly against the toilet lid.

“Do you… want me to go?”

“No. I want you to come closer.”

He lifts the hem he’s been playing with and tugs gently, gratified when Gabriel moves and comes closer, a soft sigh escaping him as he tucks his big body against Lúcio’s side; makes himself small and lays his head against his dom’s chest.

Lúcio slowly rubs a hand up and down his arm, thoughts running in circles, foot bouncing along a rhythm that suddenly sprang up in his mind. Gabriel is carefully quiet against him.

“I didn’t want to upset you. I’m very sorry about that,” Lúcio says at last, his hand stopping and just lying curled around Gabriel’s impressive bicep. “I can understand that you don’t want to talk about it, but…”

“Don’t say it,” Gabriel suddenly whispers, his voice high and child-like, shivering like a thin cord that got plucked too hard. “Please.”

Lúcio plowed on, fingers digging in deeper when Gabriel tried to pull himself away: “I love you and I want to understand. You’ll have to tell me one day, if you want to keep this… us… running. This is not meant to be an ultimatum, just… this’ll not work in the long run. What happened to you is just… it’s standing there and I can’t get around it or into it without you helping me. It’s – You’re just… blocking me out, dude.”

Gabriel has ducked his head lower with his first words and Lúcio can feel how he even stopped breathing for the moment. A couple minutes crawl by before Gabriel says slowly, slurring a little as if drunk: “I don’t need to… now… right?”

“‘Course not. Take all the time you need. Doesn’t have to be now or even today or even this week, but…”

He feels a little jumpy and shivery himself now, a live wire buzzing beneath his skin, the tips of his ears burning. He’s never told Gabriel how he feels about him and now it was just kind of hanging in the room awkwardly.

Gabriel doesn’t say more, just pulls his knees up, balls himself into a small ball. It takes a while until Lúcio feels the soft way his shoulders bounce every now and then, and takes him even longer to realize Gabriel is quietly crying, not making a sound.

He feels horrible.

For @schmogg for their excellent 3D work.

Reaper’s talons are fisted tightly in the short, white hair, keeping the soldier on a tight leash.

“Well? Get to it! Do you want to suck my cock or not? I have other options, I’m not dependent on a used up slut like you.”

He can hear Jack wheeze behind the mask, a slight static to the sound as the electronic within the visor seems to work in overdrive to figure out what the fuck was wrong with him – why his vitals were going all over the place.

Nothing was wrong with the soldier, of course. Nothing except that he was a goddamned cockwhore afraid to get dick taken away from him.

Jack strains against the hold, gloved fingers clamping around his knees because Reaper told him he had to fucking listen to his commands like they were gospel and he’s afraid he might accidentally reach for him anyway.

Gabriel watches his struggle impassively. He is standing like a granite statue, cool and impersonal – if not for the half-hard cock hanging out of his pants. The one Jack was going crazy for.

It was fun watching him struggle against the sharp talons, nearly ripping clumps of hair out in his mindless eagerness and fear that Reaper might make it true – might pack up and leave him kneeling alone in the warehouse they sought out this time.

He is grunting softly, the sound climbing in pitch and desperation the longer he gets held from his prize just a hand width apart – so close that if he were just able to use his hands, he could…

“Fuck you’re pathetic. You want that cock, don’t you? Then fucking get it! Can’t manage that when you have to work for it, hm? The poor guys you usually mug for their dicks probably have no idea what’s even happening. Too goddamn drunk.”

He listens to Jack’s groan – low and gurgling and wet sounding – and feels the weight on his arm increase when he starts to sag a little. He’s stopping to strain forward because he wants to lean back and listen to Gabriel spew abuse at him and he can’t have that, now, can he?

Gabriel makes a soft sound of disgust in the back of his throat and yanks the soldier’s head closer.

“There. I’m even doing the fucking work for you. Now suck my cock.”

He reaches down, curling a fist around the base of his dick and smears,the tip across Jack’s jaw guard. He smirks dark and satisfied behind his mask when the old soldier turns his face into it.

“Well? What now? Get my cock wet, whore. You know how to do that at least, don’t you? Your usual clientele has to be more than happy with just a tongue out drooling over their dicks.”

He can almost picture what was happening behind the mask: Jack’s mouth open and wet, tongue lapping at the inside of what was, if it came down to it, a muzzle.

Reaper wonders what the sensors are able to pick up; whether they let Jack smell his dick, so close yet so far – the sweat and musk overwhelming on his senses. He certainly acts like it. He’s whining like a bitch in heat, head coming forwards, nuzzling desperate and clumsy at the cock held out for him while Gabriel taunts: “Come get it, you lazy slut. I did all the work for you – just open your goddamn mouth and take my cock.”

There’s thin streams of blood trickling down Jack’s forehead from little nicks of Gabriel’s claws as he got to careless. The soldier either doesn’t seem to realize – or, indeed, care.

“You’re a disgrace,” Reaper whispers, voice a low, sibilant hiss as he finally has pity and wrenches the mask and visor from Jack’s face with a harsh hand. There’s a string of saliva connecting the wet bottom lip to the tight protecting mesh; his pupils are blown wide even through the new light filtering in. Everything looks messy and slick and his gaze doesn’t leave Gabriel’s goddamn dick. “You always were,” he continues, breathless, staring at the way Jack tries to fucking choke himself on his cock in his eagerness to suck it down his throat, wet gagging accompanying little, muffled groans of happiness.

He’s never seen Morrison more happy, more tranquil, than when he was warming a dick with his body.

“Good thing nobody outside the program knew what a disgusting slut you really were. Think they wouldn’t have let their precious children play with your toys if they’d known the real thing was getting used as a pissoir by his higher ranking officers and thank them for the privilege.

“I still remember getting ordered to seek you out in whatever corner of the complex they dragged you off to to play with and haul your ass into the showers because you were too goddamn drunk on getting dicked to do it yourself.”

He is cupping Jack’s jaw, almost lovingly tender, staring down at him as he gurgles around his cock, gets everything good and wet as he tries to bury his nose in Gabriel’s pubes. Everything was warm and tight and silky, Jack still knowing how Reaper liked it – even after all these years.

“Show me,” he rasps – and when nothing happens, the old soldier too enamored with sucking cock to listen to his demand, he slams the ball of his hand against his forehead none too gently, pushing him away.

Jack looks dizzy, mouth hanging open, a mix of saliva and salty pre-cum dribbling down his stubbled chin. His eyes become wet. He looks like he’s about to fucking bawl because Reaper denied him his dick.

“Show me,” he says again. He doesn’t need to explain; Jack knows exactly what he wants.

His cheeks turn ruddy red and he squirms on the spot; actually looking loathe to debase himself further, but a little glance at Reaper’s cock, wet and thick, jutting obscenely from the opening of his pants, has him turn around with a dry sob lodged somewhere in his throat.

The panties are pretty and electric blue. They fit his eyes.

Gabriel barks a laugh and places the sole of his boot against Jack’s upraised ass just because he can – nudges hard so the soldier’s cheek rubs through the dirt on the ground where he put it.

“You wanted to be pretty, eh? Did you order them online? One hand on your dick, jerking it while your team mates were going about their daily lives outside your door? Or did you go to a mall. Oh I bet you did. You wanted to see them up close and personal, didn’t you? Wanted to make sure they’re the exact right color so you can feel fucking pretty while you’re wearing them.”

He nudges again with his boot, none too gently. Jack is quiet, his eyes clenched shut, the ruddy flush on his cheeks deepening. Gabriel slowly squats down, sharp talons hooking into the back of the panties. He’s toying with the frilly lace.

“Did you enjoy it walking through a little dessous shop? You got off on the assistants watching you. Knowing exactly your type; that you’re not there to buy something for your wife but for yourself. People can read it in your face, you know. You’re an open book for those who know where to look, Morrison. They only need to take a glance at you and know what a fucking slut you are. Depraved old pervert looking to jerk off into pretty lingerie.”

The soldier is squirming. Gasping. His arms come up and he hides his face in the crook of one of them, shielding his head as if blows were raining in. Gabriel starts tugging his panties down slowly, he feels stupidly out of breath and tries to not let it on.

“Did you have your hands shoved in your pockets? Fondled your dick while you searched for the exact right pair? I bet you did. You were thinking about wearing them later; sitting in the communal room in some ratty undershirt and sweatpants while wearing your cute panties, nobody the wiser. Fuck.”

Jack has made a soft sound – high and trembling and pathetic – and suddenly Gabriel needed more. Needed to get his cock in, even if it were just…

“Show me how much you want my dick, Morrison. C’mon you filthy one-dollar-whore.”

He’s slapping one cheek harshly, leaving four thin, short scratches along the skin, bleeding sluggishly.

Jack moves like he’s in trance; fumbling for his own ass cheeks to pull them apart and show his hole off to the enemy. That tantalizing dark space, glistening wet and welcoming. Gabriel bites the tip of his tongue until he can taste blood so he wouldn’t groan at the sight like a fucking horny teen.

He wonders how Morrison still manages to look so enticing. Even knowing he’d been used like a communal toy, he couldn’t help but nudge the head of his dick in between the spread of his cheeks, while murmuring a low, indistinct mantra of: “Yeah. That’s it. Show me your filthy cunt.”

Jack is carefully still, seemingly not even breathing anymore. He wants Reaper’s cock so bad, he seems frozen to the place, stunned by his own need.

Gabriel grits his teeth, watching himself push in; spreading the buttery soft clench of Jack’s muscles around his tip, farther and farther until he’s spread just on the very edge of the ridge. A high, trembling sound is shivering out of the soldier’s throat. His muscles are working, feeling like a suckling, eager mouth, and Gabriel feels tears burning in his eyes, it feels so good.

He blinks once, twice, exhales sharply between clenched teeth, and finally gets himself back under control.

“There. Happy?”

Jack sobs, gloved fingers digging deeper into his cheeks, trying to spread farther.

“Deeper. Please.”

It’s the first thing he’s said, voice ruined. It’s so dark and gravelly, Reaper can barely make out the words.

“What’s that?”

“Deeper. Please. Oh god, I need…”

“I know what you need. I’m not giving it to you.”

Jack makes a noise that sounds so scandalized, it’s hilarious. Reaper grins behind his mask – more a baring of teeth – and nudges back and forth minimally; a supreme control over his hips and his own desire as he moves his dick; rocks just the tip through the warm, clutching entrance, fucking Jack on it.

“Don’t think you deserve more.”

The soldier’s shoulders are trembling, jerking, pulling up to his ears. He’s fucking crying, teeth dug into his bottom lip as he mindlessly rubs his face against the dirty floor of the warehouse. He’s going insane getting his ass spread on nothing but the tip of Gabriel’s cock, and he doesn’t dare to move back and fuck himself onto the thick length because Reaper hasn’t allowed him to, and he’s been trained well enough.

“Pathetic, filthy whore. I don’t know who’s been in here before me. Some random cocks you picked up in a dirty gas station bathroom, maybe. Got them to fuck you next to a broken toilet because you were in the neighborhood and just smelled your chance to get stuffed. I think you can be lucky I’m even getting this close.”

He’s clenching his teeth until his jaw hurts, fisting his cock and jerking it off in almost angry twists of his wrist, fingers cruel against the ladder piercing.

Jack makes a wet sound in the back of his throat, body jerking, breath coming harsh. He’s coming in his little panties on nothing but an inch of cock and mean words of abuse hissed at him in Gabriel’s low voice.

Reaper snarls and pulls out of the wet grip of his ass, the soft squelching sound enough to trigger his own release, eyebrows drawn together in a grimace of intense concentration and almost anger as he gets the crack of Jack’s ass sticky and warm with his cum.

“Pull your fucking pants back up,” he tells him afterwards, voice gruff, watching as Jack’s fingers tremble visibly even through the thick gloves he’s wearing.

“Wait-” he murmurs when the soldier has fought his way up unto shivering legs, eyes on the the open fly. “Leave that.”

Jack freezes, stares at him with wide eyes, helpless and still horny even though he’d just come – and then his face crumbles and he nods, not able to look into Gabriel’s face anymore because he’s willing to go out like that; fly open, bright blue panties visible, wet and see-through from his cum.

so speaking of sexbot mondatta, and since you’ve made me thirsty for reindatta, what if the two of them met before everything?? When mondatta was a sexbot and rein was just a plain ol german soldier. they fucked one night, and were both so mesmerized by the other’s body that they started seeking each other out for kinky sex, feat size queen mondatta. and now, after all this time, mondatta meets rein again, still so big and so gentle and even if now he’s a monk mondatta feels old urges pressing.

The monastery was impressive in and off itself, though all it’s simple grandeur seemed to pale compared to its unique master.

Reinhardt let the curtain fall close behind him, straightening from the awkward crouch the doorways were forcing him into. He smiled, a little uncertain, head tilting towards the Omnic standing in front of the simple desk occupying the middle of the room, hands folded in front of his lap.

“No doors, huh?”

“We have nothing to hide from each other. We are brothers and sisters in the Iris.”

Reinhardt watches him, good eye roving across the faceplate, the diamond grid of teal lights – the accents of pretty gold and tasteful matte white against shining chrome.

He remembers the night well – the night after he lost usefulness of his left eye; when he went out into the seedy underbelly of a city far away from home.

He can’t help blundering ahead, body filled with nervous energy: “You’re still just as pretty as…”

Mondatta doesn’t react for a long time. He is standing still as a statue, back straight, grey robes tastefully draped across the tall, slender body. Reinhardt ducks his head, uncharacteristically shy.

“You don’t remember me. It’s been a long while – and humans do age, unfortunately.”

“I remember you. You had never given me your name, but… I remember you.”

Reinhardt jerks, glancing up with his good eye. Mondatta has stepped closer, body still rigid. Contained. As pretty and unreachable as he looked on TV and the posters and magazines.

Reinhardt’s mouth goes dry thinking of their encounter many years ago. He can still hear Mondatta’s voice fraying at the edges, cracking and warbling all over the place from getting stuffed with cock.

“You are still very… impressive. I had thought my sensors might have played a trick on me, but…”

Mondatta trails off, one hand coming up in an involuntary, small gesture. His fingers halt in the air, before slowly curling into his palm. He had no facial expression and still Reinhardt felt like he was embarrassed.

The leader of the Shambali – the famous Mondatta… embarrassed.

Reinhardt steps closer. He catches the undecided hand before it can be pulled back towards the body once more, cradling it in huge palms. He leans down.

“Nothing to hide from your brothers and sisters, yes?”

Mondatta’s head tilts regally, the light glinting off his golden jaw. He sniffs haughtily – an entirely artificially produced sound, but doesn’t pull his hand away.

“There is nothing to hide.”

Reinhardt dips his voice into a low rumble, fingers slowly dragging across Mondatta’s palm, circling the sensor he finds there.

“So they all know that you’ve got the prettiest little cunt I’ve ever seen?”

Mondatta jerks, lax fingers abruptly curling in and shielding his palm from more advances. He tilts his body away, looking through a small, open window. 

Doesn’t pull his hand out of his grip.

Reinhardt has no idea what the Omnic might be thinking but barrels on either way, all false lion bravado: “I’m not here to humiliate you.” He can see the teal lights flash hot. Once. Interesting. “I suppose I just needed you to know… How much I admire you.”

Mondatta turns his head back towards him.

“Admire, yes?” he says slowly, and there definitely is a hint of amusement in that cool, modulated voice this time. Reinhardt feels like preening and has to stop himself running a hand obsessively through his mane of hair.

“I suppose…” Mondatta mimics, hand moving, curling around Reinhardt’s thick wrist as he steps closer – close enough for Reinhardt to hear the soft workings of his mechanical body. “… I would be lying if I were to imply I hadn’t thought about your… great… endeavors once in a while. Your exploits are well known, even in Nepal, after all.”

Reinhardt can’t help but guffaw.

.o.

“Let them hear. Let them hear how happy you are with me. Mein Gott you’re still so perfect.”

He’s fucking in sharp little snaps of his hips, driving in deep, making Mondatta take all of him into that gorgeous golden cunt. He has one large hand curled around the back of the Omnic’s neck, shielding the delicate wires from his madly fumbling fingers.

Mondatta whistles softly and arches beneath him, hands trying to find purchase on Reinhardt’s scarred back. He can feel the ergonomic silicone tips try and fail to scratch him up – and wasn’t that a compliment in and off itself?

His mouth is greedy, dragging wet, sucking kisses along the pristine length of Mondatta’s golden jaw as he pushes in deep, cock spreading the silky walls of his cunt apart and nudging rudely against those hidden, unused sensors. 

He can hear Mondatta’s processors trying to keep up with the new input; scrambling to pull up protocols long since locked away beneath fail safe programs.

“Let them hear,” he rumbles, hips twinging with the enthusiastic action but not enough to stop him from pushing deep, grinding his cock in just to feel the cool, soft texture of the gold mesh lips against his pubic bone – and hear Mondatta cry out for the first time, voicebox scrambling to keep up.

“You… you are… you are incorrigible.” Mondatta is practically whining – that ever composed, cool voice trembling, cutting out half way through. His lights are pulsing, a fast, insistent staccato and Reinhardt feels a stupid surge of affection at the sight.

It was hardly an ideal place; lying on the floor on a hasty makeshift bed made from Mondatta’s robes and Reinhardt’s coat, but it would have to do. He wouldn’t be able to drag himself away from that gorgeous golden cunt even under threat. He wouldn’t been able to stop fucking even if the whole Shambali congregation had migrated towards this little, remote room in the monastery to watch their spiritual leader get fucked like a harlot, wrecked on German cock until he had to forcibly reboot.

“Let. Them. Hear,” Reinhardt growls, laughter rumbling somewhere behind the words, every syllable accompanied by a harsh thrust, cock dipping in deep, spreading Mondatta far and indecently wide on the girth.

He could hear the scrape of one metal heel on the ground – the other was slung around Reinhardt’s hips, holding on as Mondatta curled around him and trembled, pistons moving, vents puffing out steam, inner mechanics working to massage along Reinhardt’s cock…

“Mister… W-W-Wilhelm,” Mondatta whines – honest to god whines right into his ear, soft and breathy and just like the pleasurebot he’s once been: “Please!”

Reinhardt thinks he might die of a heart attack.

Mondatta not wanting to say anything out loud. Reinhardt wanting him to scream until his voice box overloads due to stress. One massive paw keeping both of those slim wrists away from unplugging anything. The other is just rubbing inside of Mondatta’s valve, exploring all of those little nodes that make the frame shudder with pleasure. Reinhardt trying to coax him into shouting out loud. Mondatta refuses until he can’t take it anymore.

“You are so very quiet… am I hurting you?”

Reinhardt shuffles his knees farther apart, giving himself a better leverage to nudge his hips forward. The Omnic’s thin legs are spread wide to accommodate the girth of his hips, that sweet synthetic cunt hugging his cock tight and surprisingly warm – inner processors whirring audibly to ensure his pleasure.

He could hear the soft clicking of mechanics inside the Omnic, as well as the sensual slick sounds of his fucking; cock pressing into the silky valve over and over again, hips feeling loose with boyish enthusiasm as he could press in as far as he wanted; nothing but accommodating acceptance greeting him.

The diamond grid of teal lights on the Omnic’s crown brightened for a moment before dimming again. He shakes his head slowly, the dim light of the room glinting off that golden jaw.

He was a breathtaking piece, to be sure; gleaming chrome and matte white with golden accents. Reinhardt still couldn’t believe a thing as pretty as him was in a place like this. He would’ve sworn his meager soldier pay wouldn’t be able to afford him.

Reinhardt rumbles softly, head dipping low, breathing warm against the golden jaw which immediately fogs up. His hips swivel, one hand dipping down between them, thick fingers finding that sweet little cunt – and the intriguing node sitting on top of the gold mesh folds.

“Am I not pleasing you?” he purrs, hips almost coming to a standstill as he rounds the little sensor again and again, letting it take in the warmth of his thumb.

The Omnic’s – Mondatta, the nameplate on the door had read – lights flash again. His head tilts back, all the lovely pistons in his neck exposing to the crusader. They looked shockingly delicate, even though the Omnic had to be almost sturdier than he.

Mondatta shifted beneath him, fans whirring audibly to life the longer Reinhardt played with his pretty cunt. He pulled slowly out, staring down between their bodies and watching the length of his cock glisten with the artificial slick. It bounced up against his belly, pulsing out a string of pre-cum even as his hand slid farther down, fingers curiously touching where he had nestled himself just seconds prior.

Everything was already closing up again smoothly; silicon closing in suckling and perfect around his probing, thick fingers; hugging them just as tight and warm as they had the substantial girth of his dick.

“Mein Gott, but you’re a pretty thing. You can take cock for days and would still be tight as a virgin, can’t you? Taking my dick so well… never had someone that just swallowed me up like you did. Cushioning me with that gorgeous little cunt like it was a prize…”

Reinhardt pushed farther in, callused fingertips feeling little nodes lining the sides of Mondatta’s valve. He pressed on them softly, experimentally, and paused when the Omnic went rigid, teal lights flashing white hot, then dimming again – and still he was so silent. No word coming from him. He would’ve thought his voicebox broken if it hadn’t been for the little greeting he had gotten when entering the tacky room.

“Are you afraid?” he asks gently, fingers still dipping in deep, sliding out and taking the warm slick to smear it messy and gentle across the fat little node on top of the golden mesh lips.

“I’m not here to hurt you, pretty thing. You don’t need to be afraid of me…”

It was then that the most curious thing happened: the Omnic squirming and shifting, arm reaching for the back of his neck, fumbling with something before…

“I…am not… afraid.”

His voice was staticky and warbling, not at all the modulated notes from their introduction, a sort of breathlesness being produced alongside it.

Reinhardt’s mouth went dry even as his cock surged, drooling out another thick string of pre-cum, balls feeling hot and oversensitive all of a sudden.

“Oh you naughty… have you unplugged your voice box?” he cooed, fingers delving in deep and spreading, trying to push against as many nodes as possible while his thumb rudely tapped against the sensor mimicking Mondatta’s clit.

The Omnic made a most curious sound at that; not quite howling but whistling, high and fraying at the edges, teal dots lighting up in quick succession as he scrabbled and squirmed, hips lifting into the rude fingering even as he tried – and failed – to reach for the back of his neck again.

Reinhardt easily caught the thin wrists in one broad hand, pinning them above the Omnic’s head.

“Nein, nein, nein,” he purred, back prickling, chest swelling with pride. “I want you to be nice and loud for me. Such a gorgeous voice… Everybody should know how well I’m servicing you.”

The Omnic’s head jerked to the side, tilting abruptly and looking almost questioning like a dog.

“Service… me?” his voice broke halfway through, hips lifting, steam hissing from somewhere, heating up the room and plunging them in warm vapor for the time being. 

Reinhardt grinned broad and happy at him, forgetting his injured eye from last night’s fight for one glorious moment to let himself get distracted by this pretty Omnic.