Oh ok! I getcha I getcha. I think self-exploration is a key theme for Hanzo. My headcanon is that he’s Demi-Homosexual. And he’s really never had the chance to fully explore his sexual side until now. I think McCree brought that out of him. Your idea makes me think about McCree being away for awhile, and Hanzo has so much time on his hands that he’s trying to come up with new ways to please McCree. Then the lingerie comes in, and he ends up pleasing himself to his own reflection.

:O :O

“Ya know, I left ya a lil’ somethin’ from yours truly. It’s under my bunk. Y’ can go an’ have a look-see.”

That’s what McCree had drawled over the private com, voice deep and slurring words together.

Hanzo was sitting on McCree’s unmade bed, the flat box on his thighs, and stared at its contents without thinking anything at all. His fingers were moving slowly, gently rubbing the thin fabric between the tips, letting a little strap slide through.

When he finally lifted one of the garments out of the box, he could feel his heart skip a beat, dark eyes taking in the black, flimsy underwear.

Part of him wanted to be indignant and angry at McCree. ‘Do you want to mock me?!’ A larger part, was just secretly pleased that Jesse wasn’t here to badger and wheedle. He had all the time in the world to himself as long as no sudden alarm started blaring, and Hanzo felt cautiously excited at the thought of trying on these… these lewd undergarments.

They were a little tight – Jesse had obviously taken them with just a vague understanding of the actual width of Hanzo’s chest – but he thought they had been made with a male figure in mind because the restriction wasn’t too bad.

The fabric felt… peculiar. It was rubbing up against his nipples, making them almost painfully sensitive as Hanzo stared at himself through McCree’s large mirror, eyes drinking in the sight of the almost see-through cups hugging his pecs. His nipples were dark, needy ovals behind the fabric, and when he reached up to carefully touch one finger to his left one the sharp talons of his prosthetic feet dug into the floor because of the sharp feeling of almost-hurt sizzling through his body.

“Oh…” he whispered, eyes roaming across his broad shoulders, accentuated by the tiny bit of fabric, and then over the center of his chest that was criss-crossed by black straps. He noticed how they helped pulling the cups together, giving him cleavage. He… liked the look of it. Of himself.

“Oh,” he murmured again; just standing and staring – cock starting to push up past the waistline of the panties he was wearing and mildly distorting their shape.

He didn’t like how his gold-stitched scarf looked next to the black lingerie, so he took it off and let his hair down and dropped it carelessly to the floor, eyes watching the shift and move of his pecs and biceps.

Hanzo turned slowly, eyes drinking in the sight of his body in the unusual underwear. He felt ashamed at how much he enjoyed the view of it; how it made him look pretty and strangely more masculine – the thin straps accentuating the broadness of shoulders and thickness of his thighs.

He stared, mesmerized, at the bulge in his panties; how even their clever tailoring couldn’t hide the thick line of his cock any longer.

It felt peculiar, touching himself through the fabric; hand cupping the rigid line and feeling how it tried straining away from his body into the loose grip in response to the sudden stimulus.

Hanzo had to sit down. It was a graceless slumping onto the edge of McCree’s unmade bed, watching himself in the mirror – watching how his hands moved slow and tentative, as if they weren’t his own.

He felt almost drunk, fingers dragging across his nipples once more, while he curved his hips into the shy touch of his hand; cupping his balls, warm and heavy behind the thin, vaguely scratchy fabric.

He wondered how long McCree has had the lingerie. Whether he thought to give it to him as some kind of joke, or had planned to ask him after fucking him and leaving him loose and leaking… which seemed entirely more likely.

Hanzo closed his eyes, thumb dragging slow and hard across the swollen head of his cock, nail gingerly pressing right against the slit. He couldn’t bare having them closed for too long, though – he needed to open his eyes and watch himself. How he had spread his legs in much the same fashion these Americans used to slouch.

He looked… wanton. He felt wanton. He felt like he wanted McCree here to tell him how good he looked, and wanted him not here as well. Let himself enjoy his own show in privacy.

He did leave the cum stained panties on McCree’s pillow, though. He was no cruel man, and he did deserve a boon, after all.

I agree about the Hanzo’s body hair fetish. He can’t help but stare at McCree’s hairy forearms when he’s in his usual get up. But when McCree is in casual wear Hanzo can’t help but stare at the chest hair escaping from his tank, his armpits whenever he raises his arms, or get a peak at that treasure trail as McCree stretches. Best of all, McCree is totally oblivious to this, and is confused when they are having a conversation and Hanzo is bright red. Damn hairy American bodies.

??? ?

Omg????? like… omggggg????

Hanzo watched as McCree’s hand slowly lifted in his sleep, scratching through his tangled brush of a beard, and then lifted to pat at his head, obviously searching for a hat that he hadn’t even donned that day.

When he didn’t find it, his arm went slack, hand sliding up until he could rest it along the upper edge of the couch. Hanzo shifted uncomfortably, hands curling into tight fists, dark eyes staring at the thick bush of dark brown hair that he could now see so very well.

Americans were hairy creatures, and Hanzo supposed McCree must’ve been the worst of all.

It was repulsing.

Especially when he was like this – dressed like a … like a slut, slouched down on the couch until his tanktop rode up in the back, legs spread wide in his sweatpants.

Hanzo could see the fleece of chest hair peeking out the top, and the thick trail running down from his belly button. McCree’s lack of personal grooming habits had been a concern for him as long as he’d only suspected, but now he was positively appalled to see the state this uncivilized man was in.

He only needed to shift a little closer to see the beginnings of his bush, shamelessly peeking out from the low slung pants; dark brown and curly, and a testament to the fact that McCree wasn’t wearing any underwear.

Hanzo scowled and looked away as he had dark thoughts about McCree swaggering around the HQ with his cock freely swinging against the loose fabric of his pants.

What an animal.

Hanzo flinched as McCree snorted in his sleep and scratched his hairy belly with one lazy hand, drifting down and – to Hanzo’s absolute horror – into his pants where he proceeded to fondle himself and drag thick fingers through his pubes. He was rooted to the spot, watching as Jesse sighed and pulled his hand out once more.

It was then that he retreated to his rooms, face feeling hot and an itching sheen of sweat between his shoulder blades. When he jerked off beneath the shower, he definitely did not think about how it’d have been if he rubbed off against McCree’s hairy body and gave him a mess to wake up to in the morning.

haha this got a lot more angsty at the end than I wanted it to be :O originally this was just supposed to be nasty fucking but Reaper was like ‘but I’m an angsty boy’ so yeah.

huge thanks to @the-fallen-valkyrie for translating the Spanish for me ❤

“I can arrange that, Gabriel,” 76 promised with a gruff voice full of honesty. He tried hooking his chin over Gabriel’s shoulder but ended up just nuzzling against it. “I can get you all the cock you could ever want.”

Reaper shudders. He’s sitting almost motionlessly on Jack’s thighs, back arched and hips gyrating every now and then just to rub Morrison’s cock against his clutching, hot insides. He wants to get fucked – had been vying for a fuck for hours now; going from demanding to charming to almost weepy – , but is loathe to give up on Jack’s dick all the same, not letting him move out for more than a couple centimeters; and it makes Jack feel stupidly fond of him.

Gabriel doesn’t answer, but he turns his head a little. Jack obviously got his attention. The prospect of getting filled up beyond his capacity always makes Gabriel as tame as a kitten.

Jack grins and lets his arm slide over one of Reaper’s thick, powerful thighs to inch his way towards his crotch. Everything feels humid and hot; so different to the rest of his clammy – sometimes outright cold – body. The accident has definitely left his marks on Gabriel Reyes.

“I bet he has a huge cock, Gabriel. Don’t know if even you could take it. Think he’s going to destroy your little cunt?” His fingers are tickling Reaper’s filled hole with tantalizing intent; the tips dipping in alongside his cock, making Gabriel stretch just that little bit more to give him an idea of how he could be filled and fucked. How full with warm, hard cock he could be.

Gabriel jerks and groans out a patch of black, wafting haze.

“Yessss,” he purrs, voice deep and hissing like death itself. It shouldn’t make Jack’s cock jerk in the tight hug of Reaper’s body. “Por favor. Yes, Morrison.”

Gabriel could be so sweet when on the hunt for cock.

.o.

Jack had known it wouldn’t be too hard to get Reinhardt to do it – he was a bleeding heart and would help any way he could, after all. He just hadn’t thought it’d be that easy though.

There’d been almost child-like glee in the behemoth’s face as he clapped his large hands together and beamed at Jack, face already going a little pink beneath his white beard in excitement.

“With pleasure, friend. With pleasure.”

He didn’t even need to put things in motion. In fact, he felt almost a little unnecessary. He could just sit to the side of the bed and stare when those exact paw-like hands reverently smoothed along Reaper’s back and down to cup the round, meaty ass that was eagerly lifting up into the touch. They looked obscenely huge – and gentle.

He had his cock in his hand but absolutely forgot to jerk off, or even get properly hard, because all his attention was on Reaper and Reinhardt and how he had never thought anybody would be able to actually dwarf Gabriel. When Reinhardt leaned across Gabriel’s shivering back and rubbed his beard against his sickly pale shoulder, Jack’s mouth became dry, and his pulse sped up.

“No need to be afraid,” Reinhardt cooed, obviously concerned by the fact that Gabriel hadn’t stopped shaking since he’d pressed his chest to the bed and his ass in the air. The small of his back was arched into a tantalizing cup that Jack wanted to lick.

Reinhardt’s thick fingers nudge their way between Reaper’s cheeks, and Jack wishes he could see it better; get a close up view of the heavily scarred knuckles brushing gentle but insistent across Gabriel’s pouting hole.

“You’re beautiful. Gorgeous. I don’t know if I can concentrate on missions, now that I know…” Reinhardt interrupts himself with a chuckle and gives Reaper’s hip an affectionate pat. He looks like he’s enjoying himself, and Jack can’t help but let his simple, earnest joy soothe him as well, even though his gaze keeps getting drawn back to the old man’s cock.

Reinhardt was a big – his cock was just a reflection of his sheer size, just as Jack had assumed it would be. Nevertheless, it was plain intimidating to see, even half-hard as it was. It looked heavy. Solid. It looked like it would bulge against Gabriel’s belly just from the sheer heft of it.

“Ah,” Reinhardt suddenly breathed and knelt up, head turning so his good eye could observe as he pried Gabriel’s ass cheeks apart with two fingers. “I see you are well prepared. You have been looking forward to this, have you not? Ohhhh what a sweet, little peach you have…”

Gabriel snorts a growl into the sheets. He sounds like an angry bull, but he is not moving away from Reinhardt’s stroking fingers, or how they explore the slick, little muscle they have encountered. Jack knew too well how good Gabriel felt; how accepting and soft his hole could become if it was just played long enough with.

He is moving; body making a single, undulating wave designed to try and push himself onto Reinhardt’s fingers. When he doesn’t manage to do it, he throws his head around in irritation – now facing Jack.

There’s a flush on Gabriel’s scarred face, teeth gnashed together. He looks like a stray, malnourished dog with how the scar that ripped one corner of his mouth into a perpetual nasty grin was twisted.

“Hübsch,” Reinhardt is murmuring, watching as two wide, rough fingers easily get swallowed up by Gabriel. “Wirklich hübsch… You’re like a feast, my friend. I don’t know where to start first… I almost wish you hadn’t been so eager, so I could take my time to open you up for me.”

Jack watches as Reaper flushes – blushes – and gets hit with the sudden, numbing realization that Gabriel was… embarrassed.

Gabriel’s eyes flick towards him, and his mouth drops open in a little ‘o’ of surprise. He looks almost startled to see Jack sitting there; as if he’d forgotten all about him in the wake of Reinhardt’s fingers slowly, experimentally pumping into him with lewd, suckling sounds.

It is only when the old man reaches between his thighs, fondling the swollen, heavy sack of his testicles, murmuring about how sweet Gabriel was; offering everything of himself up on a platter, that Reaper suddenly jerks out of his stupor, cheeks going a little darker with his flush and black mist wafting from the ragged corner of his mouth as he spits out: “Cerrar la Boca! Fuck me! Fuck me already!”

Reinhardt looks stunned for a second at the aggressive demand, but shakes it off rather quickly. His huge barrel chest heaves in a veritable earthquake of mirth as he laughs and slaps Gabriel’s ass hard enough to make him jolt forward and groan into the bedding, cock jerking out a dribble of pre-cum as the wide imprint of Reinhardt’s hand slowly shows up on his skin.

“That’s the spirit! What a lively little toy you have gotten yourself, Morrison! I’m envious. Don’t you worry. Don’t you worry one bit; I will give you what you need. I will just give it to you, Schätzchen.”

.o.

Reinhardt let Gabriel feel his cock slapping heavy and meaty against his hole, the wide tip nudging against it, and suddenly Gabriel was very quiet – not even answering to Reinhardt’s good-natured inquiry of his readiness.

He was just clawing at the bedding, eyes slowly going large and round the farther Reinhardt pushed in on a slow, gentle rocking motion that dragged the wide girth of his cock again and again along sensitive nerve endings –

And with that, at least, Jack was familiar; Gabriel becoming near shy and overwhelmed when he finally got what he wanted; getting breached and spread on a thick cock – all the attention focused on him and the eagerness of his hole that had been softened up by hours of his own fingers.

“He’s going to warm you up,” Jack rasped. He gripped the back of Gabriel’s neck and squeezed down. He could hear Reinhardt’s soft, puffing breaths; his muttered “tight…”

“He’s going to warm your belly up just like you need,” Jack crooned, fingers rubbing circles into Reaper’s clammy skin, and dragging out a low, hopeful groan out of the man – a groan that started off barely audible but dragged on and on, getting more needy the deeper Reinhardt pushed and made him accommodate his size.

“Dios mio,” Gabriel suddenly sobbed, back arching and the muscles in his shoulders bunching as he started to try and crawl away from the insistent press from behind. “Fuck, fuck… Fuck, Jack, I…”

Reinhardt was keeping still, face flushed and hands large and restricting on Reaper’s wide, sturdy hips to keep him from getting away. His face was flushed above the stark white of his beard, good eye gleaming heatedly. “Oh no,” he rumbled, “You’re not getting away. Stay where you are – just stay right here. Don’t hurt yourself. Everything is going to be fine.”

One hand was starting to clumsily pet Gabriel’s sweaty back, trying to calm him down as he writhed on his cock, muscles working as they tried to squeeze him out again, but only succeeded in massaging along his cock.

“You’re doing fine,” Jack reassured him, hand still a grounding weight on the back of his neck. “You’re doing fine, Gabe. Just let him do his thing. He’s gonna make you feel so warm.”

Gabriel was breathing fast and ragged, dark eyes glazed over as he obeyed them and let Reinhardt move in slow, careful drags of his cock.

When Jack looked – because how could he not? – he couldn’t believe how far Gabriel was stretched; everything slick and sweaty, accommodating the cock that was ruining his poor little hole.

Reinhardt leaned down slowly, huge body easily blanketing the shivering man beneath, ass flexing as he hunched in on a slow, gentle thrust that nonetheless made Gabriel shake hard enough in overstimulation that his teeth were chattering.

“You’re always cold, yes? I can help. I can warm you up. Got just the thing for you. I’ll warm up your belly until you feel like you’re bursting with it. And then I’ll keep you plugged up nice and tight so nothing will seep out. Jack wanted me to help, and I can do that. I can keep you nice and warm, Schätzchen. Just be good for me and hold still, will you?”

…And Gabriel held still for him.

yo yo yooooo @abakkus

“You want to eat him out, don’t you?” Jack was crouching closely behind Reaper, one hand curled around his throat, thumb rubbing along the edge of the collar he was wearing. His other arm was slung around Reaper’s waist, giving him his too loose fist to fuck into.

Reaper’s head fell back against his shoulder with a low groan, hips jerking into Jack’s hand.

“Yessss….”

“You’ll have to lose your mask for that.” Jack’s voice was gentle, but resolute. He’d not let Reaper get away with it.

When Reaper hesitates, breath audibly hitching, Jack’s eyes travel towards McCree who is decadently spread out before them and lazily jerking off to the sight of Reaper being torn between keeping his last shield, and getting his face between his hairy cheeks.

“I think he’ll need a little more incentive. How about you give ‘im a little show?”

McCree grins sharp, and lopsided. He’s not having a cigar in the corner of his mouth but he’s still compensating for it anyway. It makes him look idiotic and endearing at the same time.

Jesse has no hangups with being lewd. He shifts and hooks his hands beneath his knees to pull them up and apart, before he thinks better of it and lets go with one to reach down to his ass.

Jack watches as McCree pulls one cheek to the side, showing them his hole. When he slides his fingers further in so he can circle it slow and steady, Reaper makes a sound like a kicked dog.

“Looks tasty, doesn’t it?” McCree laughs and lets go of his other leg as well so he can pinch his own nipple and tug on his chest hair. He’s still a fucking kid when compared to them, but he’s filling his role admirably. Reaper moves against Jack’s restraining hands; a wall of solid, shockingly cool muscle.

Jack curses low and grips him tighter, the line of his dick slowly, tantalizingly sliding along Reaper’s ass crack.

“Your mask, Gabriel,” Jack warns – and just like that, Reaper is Gabriel. He growls and sounds pissy and impatient, his hand fumbling with the straps and ripping it violently from his face.

He surges forwards once more, and this time Jack lets him go.

“Holy shit!” McCree shouts and laughs at the same time, one hand curled tightly into Gabriel’s dark, short curls, holding on for dear life as Reyes presses his face between his cheeks with what could only be described as the groan of a starving man.

Jack moves to the side, watching as Gabriel noses Jesse’s balls out of the way before he couldn’t be bothered anymore and just lets them rub across the bridge of his nose because he’s too busy sucking and licking at McCree’s hole.

“Help him,” Jack orders, voice hoarse and as authoritative as it was on the battlefield. Jesse obeys without thinking – reaches for his junk and holds it out of the way while he rides Gabriel’s enthusiasm out.

His eyes are glassy and his mouth dropped open in an ‘o’ of dumb surprise.

Gabriel, for his part, is single minded and greedy. He’s licking and sucking; getting the space between Jesse’s cheeks wet with spit as he presses his face in further and further, as if he’s trying to smother himself in McCree’s ass.

Jack feels stupidly fond as he lets a hand slowly slide along Gabriel’s spine and lovingly taps two fingers against his hole. He notes how Gabriel lifts his ass into the touch and it makes Jack feel warm in his belly.

“There you go. And when you’re done with him, I want a go as well. I’m gonna sit on your face if you want to. Do you want to?”

He hooks fingers into the back of Gabriel’s collar and pulls – but Gabriel fights against the drag, so he wouldn’t get dislodged from his perch. Jack still can hear the embarrassingly high whine of eagerness.

Jesse grins like he’s high, hand just holding onto his junk; he looks like he forgot to jerk himself off, and is just enjoying the ride for the moment.

Jack can’t wait for his turn.

“Shhh, shh, shh,” McCree shushed, metal hand clamping over Hanzo’s mouth, and hips hunching further inward – pushing his cock deeper into the wet, delirious clutch of Hanzo’s body.

He could blearily see Hanzo’s eyes widen – staring at him wide and wet; seemingly so dumbfounded at how deep McCree could reach. How wide he’d fucked him open on his cock, and dragged all those catty, needy noises out of him.

“Ya need to be nice and quiet, dahlin’,” he whispered. He sounded drunk – felt drunk – even though he’s only had one beer. Hanzo was getting to his head.

He was moving constantly; muscles rippling and working around his cock. Suckling on his dick like he still hadn’t got used to the meaty girth. “God damn,” he whispered and jerked against Hanzo without having pulled out before hand. The reaction was as instantaneous as it was beautiful – Hanzo’s eyes fluttered shut with the jolt of his body, and he shouted against McCree’s prosthetic palm. His sensors picked the vibrations up and made them tickle through his arm up towards his shoulder.

McCree grit his teeth, mashing his hand more firmly around Hanzo’s jaw, keeping him nice and quiet as he began moving again. There was nothing fluid about his fucking – his hips were jerking in hunching, little motions that kept him from actually moving too far out.

He was fucking Hanzo on just a couple centimeters of his dick, mostly simply keeping him full, and Hanzo went wild for it. He was flushed and sweaty, the bruises McCree had sucked into his chest standing out in livid colors.

His body was still working around him. Rippling and suckling and making a spectacle out of the whole mess by giving off little, wet smacking sounds whenever McCree pulled out far enough to actually ram back inside.

“Quiet, quiet, quiet,” he was groaning out low, right into Hanzo’s face. He was just babbling for the sake of it, not registering what exactly it was that he was saying. McCree was thinking with his dick; thinking about how he was going to fill Hanzo up, and how sore his swollen balls would feel afterwards. Hanzo couldn’t make a sound except for a low, desperate keening deep in his throat.

McCree would never have imagined how desperate Hanzo would be for cock. How that pink, little hole would become pouty and hungry to get filled, opening up like a dream for a big dick that knew what it wanted.

“Fucking slut. So good. So gorgeous. Yeah, take it. Take my dick, an’ keep quiet like a good boy. Like a fuckin’ good boy, dahlin’.”

Sweat was tickling down his spine and gathering in the small of his back. He was fucking like an animal, hips hunching into his desperate, abrupt thrusts, deep dicking Hanzo – trying to practically crawl after his cock into that slick, clutching space that felt like wet silk clinging to him.

Hanzo’s face was red. He probably couldn’t breathe too well. His dark, liquid eyes started to cross from the overload of sensations, and McCree dumbly wondered whether he’d found Hanzo’s prostate and had been pummeling against the puffy gland the whole time.

Hanzo’s fingers were on his back. It felt like he was trying to rip it open while he bucked up towards him; towards the meaty cock driving into him.

“Stay silent, nice and silent, that’s right that’s the ticket, good boy good boy,” McCree babbled, pressing their foreheads together and listening to the desperate huffing coming from Hanzo’s nose.

“Fuckin’ good little slut.”

Mchanzo prompt? Mccree teaches hanzo how to make smores

as has become usual, I kind of changed the prompt up a little bit to fit more comfortably in what I perceive them to be D: I’m sorry, I hope you enjoy it nonetheless.

“Keep your eyes on the cargo, McCree.”

“Not takin’ ‘em off, babe,” McCree easily agreed, leaving it to Hanzo to actually stare into the gloomy darkness while he tinkert around with the small heater Winston had send them off on mission with.

It wasn’t cold enough to actually need it – at least for McCree, since he was properly clothed; not like other men that liked to have their goods on show constantly – but it would be more than handy for what he had in mind.

“What are you doing?” Hanzo sighed deeply. He didn’t sound pissed off anymore; just resigned. McCree pulled out a flat container. “Smores,” he murmured, succinctly popping the lid open.

When he glanced at Hanzo, the archer looked unimpressed.

“You are a child,” was all he had to say before turning towards the cargo they were supposed to protect. He looked grumpy and sullen, but since that was his usual expression, Jesse had no idea what he was actually thinking.

“Gotta do something since I’m not allowed to smoke. And they’re tasty.”

“They’re sticky and sugary and you’re going to make a mess out of yourself.”

“Y’ can clean me up later if ya like, ma.”

He winked at Hanzo’s infuriated face, and busied himself with his smores. They were silent for a good while; Hanzo observing and Jesse enjoying his treats, until –

“You smeared it into your beard, you big American oaf.”

McCree glanced at Hanzo from beneath his brim, confused at the unusually aggressive tone.

Hanzo, for his part, was staring at his chin from the corner of his eyes, and – was that a flush slowly darkening his face?

“You want one?” McCree asked in a slow drawl, offering the newest marshmallow he’d speared on a fork. Hanzo huffed. “I don’t want your childish sweets. Clean yourself up, you look undignified.”

McCree shrugged and rubbed the back of his hand half-heartedly across his chin. He let Hanzo stew in his own dignified hissiefit for a while before rescuing him from his own too serious mindset – as he so often did.

“Hey, Hanzo?”

“Wha-” he choked as McCree unceremoniously shoved a squishy smore into his mouth.

Jesse grinned good-naturedly and hit him on the back. “There you go! Jus’ like one of ‘em big boys!”

“…I detest you.”

[Part1]

Jack thought that he should probably say something; anything.

Like I thought you were dead. Or I missed you; or I never stopped thinking of you; or What the Hell happened to you?!

Instead what he did was giving the side of Gabriel’s ass a sharp, enthusiastic smack, just so he could see – and feel – the way the juicy cheeks jiggled against his dick.

Gabriel groaned and arched his back, hips slowly, leisurely moving on their own accord; taking all the work out of Jack’s hands and fucking his cock along the slippery crack of his ass on his own.

Every now and then he’d lift up too much; until the swollen head was nudged against his pouting hole – and Jack knew full well that this was deliberate; that Reaper tried catching him off guard and somehow get his dick to spear him open without a hand helping out; that greedy little cunt doing its best to mouth at him – but soon he’d hunch down again and let it slip along the warm, smooth trail until it was emerging at the top once more.

His tail bone was shiny with sweat and pre-cum.

He let Jack do to him whatever he desired; let him knead and slap as his perky ass cheeks, and reach down to fondle his cock and balls where they were swinging heavy and untended underneath him.

When Gabriel got fucked, he was – for lack of a better word – sweet. So accommodating. Maybe even desperate now, after all these years? Desperate to get touched and used like he used to?

“Don’t you want it?”

The voice was low and breathy, and Soldier 76 had trouble to understand the mechanical rasp for a second. Reaper was peeking at him from above his shoulder, and if he didn’t know better, he’d say he was almost shy.

Fuck what he wouldn’t give to see his face.

“Don’t you want to fuck me? I can be… I can be good. I promise.”

Puppy eager.

He pressed his broad shoulders to the bedding and lifted his hips again. Helpfully. Submissive.

When he reached back, Jack didn’t even thick about shying away from the sharp claws tipping his gloves. He simply let Reaper curl his fingers around his cock and squeeze it appreciatively, the tips of his talons carefully scratching through his grey pubes.

“Are you – “ he had to swallow and restrain himself from fucking into the exploring, fumbling grasp of Reaper’s hand. “Are you begging me?”

His hands were still on Gabriel’s hips, though gentler this time; thumbs rubbing slow, soothing circles into the dark skin. When Reaper kept silent – not out of anger or stubbornness, he realized; just in contemplation – he let one hand slide between his legs once again; cupping the vulnerable space behind his balls before giving them a gentle, affectionate squeeze.

Gabriel let out a long, rattling breath, his body becoming hazy and dark for a moment before he materialized himself again.

“Yesss,” he hissed, back arching. “I’m begging. Give me your cock, Jack. Fuck me-”

The words get stuck in his throat, when Jack unceremoniously pushes forward, the head of his dick – still held by Gabriel – pressing against his hole with slowly increasing pressure.

He watches breathlessly how the muscles start moving; stretching apart just for him. Submitting and accepting.

Reaper’s hand falls away the second the head of his dick pops in, and he becomes absolutely still.

When Soldier 76 reaches down below, and places one hand on his lower belly, he can feel it barely fluttering with the sharp, little breaths Reaper is taking.

“SSsshhh, Gabe.” He’s not thinking about the unfamiliarity of the name anymore. Gabriel is hot and tight around him; wet with lube as he swallows him down more and more. “I got you. You’ve wanted cock so bad, didn’t you? I give it to you. There you go… there you go. Open up for me.”

Good boy, he almost wants to say, and accompany it with an affectionate squeeze to the back of Reaper’s neck. Good. Boy.

When he bottoms out, he feels like he can feel Gabriel’s quick, little panting breaths vibrating around his dick. His ass feels good against his hip bones. As plush and muscular as he remembers it.

When he squeezes one of Gabriel’s thick thighs, it is in a subconscious imitation of how they operated in the before.

Reaper takes it in stride. He becomes liquid as soon as Jack starts moving; the rigidity of his body giving way to fluid grace as he easily takes the thrusts and leans back into them, low, wrecked groans spilling from his throat.

It doesn’t occur to Jack one second to get him to shut up.

Stupid, stupid, so so stupid.

Gabriel was making him stupid.

He was keeping his head down and eyes squeezed shut as he fucked him in sharp, little bursts, hips flicking like he were a much younger man. He almost wants to put one leg up on the creaking bunk for better leverage – to properly mount Gabriel and drill into him from a better angle. Fuck right into his belly and warm him up where he so obviously needed.

“More, more… fuck; Give me your cock, Morrison. Maldito-” He’s cursing in Spanish and squeezing down on Jack’s cock, and fuck how could he have ever forgotten what a demanding fuck Gabriel could be? How his muscles could ripple around a cock, milking and greedy for cum…

“Shut up, asshole; I’m giving you just as much as you deserve- I hate you, you damn…”

They’re babbling over each other, hands gripping and bodies straining towards the other as they fuck, and fight.

When Jack blindly grabs for Reaper’s cock, it feels feverish in his hand; like it is too hot to be human; the thick vein on the underside pulsing against his gripping fingers.

He can hear – and god damn feel it around his cock – when Gabriel suddenly holds his breath at the feeling of Jack’s hand on his dick; and maybe he shouldn’t do it; maybe he should keep Reaper on the edge until he’s begging some more; until he’s a come-dumb mess on Jack’s cock – but it is too tempting, fingers moving easily just the way they’d learned to years and years ago; squeezing harsh just beneath the thick head to get Gabriel to howl low and ragged and jerk almost off his cock as he came in pulsing, warm stripes.

They don’t get to catch their breaths, however, as a slow, oddly muffled clapping sound permeates the air, followed by a drawl that Soldier 76 knew only too well.

“Well, well, well… if that wasn’t a nice show, I dunno what is.”

Jack slowly turns his head, dread making his chest seize. He’s acutely aware that he’s still balls deep in Gabriel, and hasn’t even gotten to fucking cum yet.

But there McCree is, standing in the doorway of the barracks and with his gloved hands still put together in front of him. His eyes were shielded by the wide brim of his head, but there was a sharp, toothy grin on his face – an unlit cigar clamped between his teeth.

“McCree, I…”

“Awww now. Don’t let lil’ ol’ me keep you from enjoying the rest of ya labor. I’ll jus’ be outside, right? After all, we’ll have a mighty lot to discuss when ya come out. Ah think we’ll come to a very… satisfying agreement.”

His grin widened, if possible, just a bit more – and then he simply left.

I love your McHanzo ficlet!! And if you’re still doing requests (aa sorry!) consider this: 6 AM, Hanzo and McCree up really early in the kitchen lazily dancing to “No Wonder I” by Lake 😌

I’m still taking requests, yep 🙂 surprised that I did get positively none tbh :O

so I can’t quite see them dancing to it, since that feels too OOC for me, but I can definitely give you this mental image, because the song is beautiful and kind off took me away onto a little sleepy trance right now:

They’d be out of the door in half an hour to catch the jet Europe bound, and while usually Hanzo had no problems being up and alert at the drop of a hat, living with McCree in close quarters for so long seemed to have… mellowed him out in that respect.

He watched the cowboy across the table, half listening to the tune coming from the radio. Jesse was leaning back, feet propped on the edge of another unoccupied chair and hat pulled so deep across his eyes that the edge of his burning cigar was in danger of touching the weathered brim.

He hadn’t moved for quite a while and Hanzo was wondering whether he’d fallen right back asleep; curled up in his serape as he was. He slowly turned the warm mug of tea in his hands and kept wordlessly staring; there was nothing else to do, after all. It was still dark and lonely this early in the kitchen, and even though Hanzo hadn’t a single musical bone in his body, he could feel the softness of the song worm into him.

Was McCree actually asleep?

It took him a while to realize that the metallic, rhythmic ringing accompanying the music, was coming from the man across the table: the spurs on his heels moving softly as he tapped his boots in time with the beat.

Ah… Not asleep after all. Just enjoying the silence.

Hanzo quietly smirked into his tea as he took another sip.

It was stupid that they were doing this here in the middle of one of the Overwatch’s bases; it was stupid that they were doing it in the middle of the day; and it was stupid that neither of them had the inclination to even close to door.

Closing the door would involve one of them having to get up and do the stupid track over to the stupid thing while the other one would be able to lounge there and gloat, and… no. Closing the door was no option.

They weren’t even out of uniform.

Everything was tinged red by Jack’s visor and the sweat was rolling down his cheeks from the exertion and the heaviness of Reaper’s booted feet on his shoulders. Gabriel had placed them there after hectically shoving down his tight pants and from the low growl he’d made, Jack had the nagging suspicion he’d been very close to getting kicked in the head by the combat boots.

Y’ know. Just for good measure.

“Do it,” Gabriel hissed. He’d never been a patient man, after all. Jack would trade in his rifle just to be able to see the expression on his enemy’s face, instead of the sinister visage that was his mask. He looked down in contemplation, watching his fingers twirl around the tight, anticipatory clench of Reaper’s hole yet again. He’d tapped against the very center once or twice, with the gratifying effect of having Gabriel nearly lunge off the bunk in his eagerness to spear himself open.

The sheer force of Reaper’s neediness had hit him like a truck.

“No,” Jack said simply, mostly because he just didn’t want to be too complacent with Gabriel’s bratty demands, but also because the way Gabriel moved his hips against the slick pads of his massaging fingers was hypnotizing.

He had barely slipped them inside yet – merely dipping the tips of his fingers to hear Reaper curse and see the way dark mist swirled around his person when his control seemed to slip – , even though he was dying to get into that ass; into the tight, warm clutch that Jack remembered so well from their youth.

His patience was made so much easier with Reaper’s impatience, though.

Gabriel froze for a second after Jack’s easy denial, apparently having to digest the fact that there had been a ‘no’, before growling and bucking against him, trying to fuck himself onto his lubed up, thick fingers.

The deadly clawed tips of his gloves were ripping at the sheets, easily slicing them into ribbons – until Jack gave one of Gabriel’s thick thighs a sharp slap.

“Stop that. My base, my rules,” he growled, and could’ve sworn he could almost see Gabriel’s fierce scowl through his mask. Gabriel was lying almost awkwardly still, fingers slowly and carefully curling out of the sheets. He was tilting his head minutely, and Jack had the strangest feeling of being appraised. He wondered what was going on in Gabriel’s head. Nonetheless, he wasn’t too old not to use his opponent’s momentary lapse – this somewhat startled, dismayed quiet – to fondle Reaper’s cock and give it a short, tight squeeze that had Gabriel grunt and arch his back.

“In fact – turn around. I want to see something.” His voice was low and rough, tinny from behind his mask, and his heart was pounding something fierce in his throat as he saw Gabriel move without protest. He did hesitate, oh yes, but he didn’t question.

Just moved in a stupidly fluid movement, tendrils of darkness curling enticingly around his body as he managed to get onto all four even though his pants were hobbling him.

Impatience gnawing at him at last, Soldier 76 threw his faceplate to the side, so he’d be able to memorize the sight. Gabriel only grunted once more in surprise when he felt his long, black coat unceremoniously shoved to the side, then stretched and arched his back to display his ass.

He might’ve been surprisingly complacent with Jack’s demands, but nobody would ever be able to say he was shy about what he wanted – or about how he looked.

“Gabriel-” Jack began, then quickly shut up again because Reaper froze to the spot, and Jack could feel for himself how strange the name felt on his tongue after so long. Unwieldy and almost not right. So he fell silent and let his actions speak – hands coming up to grab generous hand fulls of Gabriel’s ass; squeezing and kneading the cheeks with almost painful glee.

God but he’d forgotten this gorgeous ass; those wide, sturdy hips that could take a punishing fuck every day of the week and give back just as good.

“I hate you,” Jack breathed in reverence, one hand fumbling with his zipper and pulling out his cock to let it slap meaty right against Gabriel’s tail bone. He watched with dumb fascination as Reaper immediately lowered his upper body in response, lying his head on his stacked arms. He looked…. ridiculous ~~and cute.~~

“Yeah?” Jack rasped, slapping his cock against him again, feeling light headed and giddy, and forgetting all about their location and the time of day and how they were practically right in the open even though only one or two other agents resided in this here base. “You like that? Like feeling my cock like this?”

He felt stupid talking like that; he’d never been the best with words, and dirty talk wasn’t exactly his thing – but Gabriel seemed to lap it right up. His back arched down, sturdy hips lifting up towards him in invitation.

The sight of his cock slowly fucking between Reaper’s cheeks was almost too good to be true. Too perfect.

“God damn,” Soldier 76 whispered, hands squeezing the cheeks together around his cock, watching the dark pink head emerge at Gabriel’s tail bone again and again as he slid through the humid crack; glide eased a little by the lube they used earlier.

Gabriel was accommodating enough for a while; a low sound almost like purring coming from him as he rocked back into the touch. Easy and slow – nothing of the earlier bratty impatience to be seen… until, that was, the need seemed to grow once more.

“Okay,” Reaper growled, snapping out of his lethargy, head lifting to look over his shoulder at Jack who was slowly rubbing appraising hands up and down the backs of his thick thighs. “Go on. You had your fun.”

Jack blinked slow and lazy. He felt just right where he was; cock snuggled in that warm, slick space and hands occupied with feeling Reaper up.

“I’m not done having ‘my fun’. Not by a long shot,” he mused, hips twisting and snapping with a little more intent behind it, just to feel Gabriel bodily shudder beneath him, knees sliding farther apart on the bedding as if getting ready to brace himself for the real fucking.

“Jack-” he hissed, sharp and warning – only that it sounded more needy to Jack’s ears. Breathless. Begging.

“Yes, that’s it… Just like that,” he purred, leaning over Reaper’s back and nuzzling against the back of his shoulder. “Ask me nice enough and maybe I’ll give you what you’ve come for… demanding a fuck like a bratty, little boy.”

He could feel his belly clench tight in acute want as Gabriel, after moments of tense silence, and with a body going rigid in denial, suddenly tilted his head forward in submission.

“Oh fuck,” he whispered, feeling his cock ooze out a sticky bead of pre-cum. Oh fuck, indeed.

Of course Jack couldn’t be sure of it. Reaper’s mask never came off; his voice was distorted from behind, whenever he deigned to speak.

He couldn’t be fucking sure but he was all the same – and he could tell nobody.

Nobody would ever know what Jack Morrison – Soldier 76 – knew in his heart: That the killing machine Reaper was his old hated best friend Gabriel Reyes, because Gabriel was dead; killed, when their base collapsed with the two of them in it over a decade ago.

Only that Jack knew those thighs; he knew those wide, almost feminine hips. He knew them well enough to know that they could only belong to one man, because he’d been intimately familiar with Gabriel’s body when they’d still been young and even more stupid than now.

Nobody would ever know what Jack knew because nobody could know that he’d been staring long enough – obsessively enough – to figure it out after all. That he’d stand in the tiny shower of their Gibraltar base, frantically, rudely jerking his cock while he thought about Gabriel’s… Reaper’s… Gabriel’s… thick thighs.

How once he’d jumped over his own shadow and had finally done what he’d been fantasizing about for months; had pinned a vaguely protesting Gabriel to his bunk bed and proceeded to kick his legs together so he could fuck between those muscular thighs. How Gabriel’s muscles had rippled; gone hard as he tensed them, squeezing Jack’s cock painfully between until tears had come to his eyes and he’d still not stopped hate-fucking him; hips slapping against Gabriel’s generous, perky ass.

If Jack focused enough, he could still see how obediently Gabriel kept his head down (and if he thought about it, fucking Gabriel was the only time this asshole could actually do what he was told) and lifted his hips into the punishing thrusts.

He could still say exactly how wide and perfect Gabriel’s hips had been between his gripping hands, because Jack Morrison knew Gabriel’s body like his own; no- better than his own.

Better than anybody.

Enough to know that their enemy had the same powerful legs; the same swaggering walk with his hips fluidly swaying with liquid grace. The same habit to be a pain Soldier 76′s ass and still having him intrigued – positively enthralled.

“God fucking damn it,” he growled, fist slamming against the wet shower wall, as he stared down unsatisfied. He’d come almost without him noticing. He grit his teeth and tugged at his white pubes because it was a little painful and he didn’t have the thick ass that he actually wanted to slap and hurt right now.

Fuck Gabriel Reyes –

…and fuck him for still loving him.