“I think you deserve a treat.” luciper please~

“I think you deserve a treat.”

Lúcio quivers in anticipation, eyes still fixed on Reaper – his gaze adoring and a little wet with unshed tears.

Reaper’s clawed hand cradles his chin, thumb slowly rounding the soft gape of the boy’s open mouth. His jaw had to be hurting already, but he was as obedient as ever. A sweet little pet that was so very eager to please its Master.

Reaper dips his thumb in, rubbing across the soft pad of his tongue.

“You want a treat, don’t you?” he purrs, unendingly amused when Lúcio softly goes “uh huh”, trying so very hard not to close his mouth; his cherry red uvula bouncing with the motion.

“Very well. Such an obedient doll.”

Lúcio nearly goes cross eyed when Reaper pushes the spongy tip of his cock between his plush lips, his tongue cautiously fluttering up against the foreskin – and when Reaper doesn’t reprimand him, just sighs in relief – he starts wriggling the tip beneath the loose skin, lapping at the swelling glans underneath.

Already his goatee is getting sticky with spit but he looks so very happy being allowed to kneel on the floor and suckle his Master’s dick. Reaper doesn’t think he’ll ever give the boy back to those Overwatch goons.

Jack could barely hear him over the jeering of the crowd.

“You got enough?” He was laughing as well, the tremors of his chest jostling Jack’s head where it was clamped beneath Reyes’ arm. He felt light headed from lack of oxygen. His eyeballs were throbbing, chest seizing, arms hugged around Reyes’ sturdy waist – not trying to dislodge him, just holding on for dear life as his head got threatened to get popped like a grape.

The cheering from the crowd bled into the background. Reyes loosened his hold a little. He said something but Jack couldn’t make it out for the life of him, focused instead on pulling air into his lungs, just breathing in, slowly becoming aware of the most useless things – how warm his toes felt, how much his shirt itched on his back… how his neck was nestled into Reyes armpit, everything humid and thick with the smell of workout sweat.

Someone called something and the crowd jeered again.

“Oh you’re a nasty boy, Morrison.”

Jack groaned mindlessly, head turning, nose dragging along the edge of Reyes’ pit, lips instinctively parting pressing suckling kisses into the salty skin, the corner of his mouth tickled by the wet hair. Reyes shifted, thick hip bumping against Jack, jostling him out of his delirious head enough to make him aware of his cock: hard and tenting his training sweats for the whole room to see.

.o.

Some left… a lot were still there to watch Morrison dig his face into the humid stench of Reyes’ sweaty ass. It was shocking to see the blond hair beneath those massive thighs and even more so to see him strain up and push deeper into the man kneeling above him, little sounds of sucking and licking accompanied by low, nearly pained sounding grunts.

“Is he actually digging in there, Reyes?”

Gabriel barked out a laugh. He got jostled by one particularly eager thrust upwards and reached down to get a fist full of Morrison’s hair, thighs tensing as he rode it out and ground down almost viciously – sitting his fat ass down with his substantial weight and suffocating the golden boy in the warm mess behind his heavy balls.

“He’s fuckin’ loving eatin’ my sweaty ass,” was Reyes’ only comment. His belly was filled with fire, cock drooling along Morrison’s forehead. He could feel his little huffs of breath against tender skin; how he nudged the tip of his nose into that dark, hot space, fucking sniffing at him before he snaked his tongue out and dragged it sloppily wherever he could reach.

He wished they were on their own and in private; he wished he could ask Morrison all the questions that were thrumming through his mind as he rode his partner’s face and smeared his heavy sack across the bridge of his perfect farm boy nose.

You like being nasty, Morrison?

You get off on mashing your face into my sweaty pits?

Wanna have me step on your dick, too?

…Wanna make out some before I sit my fat ass down on your face and make you beg for breath?

Fuck.

Fuck.

“Did that hurt? Want Papi to make you feel better?” McReyes please?

Reyes slowly rounds his pet, the thud of his combat boots heavy and deliberate. Jesse is panting with an open mouth, drooling from the tip of his lolling tongue, body shaking and sweating.

His belly is still clenching every now and then, hard enough to make his back curve up. He hasn’t quite gotten over the instinctual need to curl up and shield himself, yet – but Reyes was quite sure he’ll soon get there. They all did, eventually.

When he crouches down in front of McCree, he can see him try and sneak a little glance up at him through the oily fringe of hair, before he jerks and looks down. A dog that learned his lesson not to aggravate his superior.

Reyes gently clucks with his tongue, big, rough hands cradling McCree’s face, lifting it up.

“Did that hurt? Want Papi to make you feel better?” he croons, thick fingers rubbing across Jesse’s cheekbones.

He can see the panic entering the almost vacant gaze; sluggish brain starting to work overtime as he tries to figure out what that might mean. He’s a quick learner, this new recruit.

McCree shifts, winces, stays carefully still. The humbler is holding his balls tightly in place; keeps them tight and presented for Reyes to play with, like, say, a slap of those very hands lovingly cupping the kid’s face.

For a second McCree looks like he’s going to break apart and start bawling – the simple question obviously too much for his overworked mind. When he finally whispers, “Yes, please, Papi,” his voice is cracking wildly like that of a teen.

Such a tender boy, still. A killer – but a lovable one.

Reyes smirks and gives him another rub of his thumb across his cheek before he leans down and presses a kiss against the corner of Jesse’s mouth.

“Good boy,” he breathes – and McCree vibrates with sudden pride and sick, fervent love, even as Reyes gets back up and rounds him again. He had to admit he was… fond, of the brat. He would be a good fighter. A loyal one.

When he crouches down behind Jesse once more, he realizes the boys cock is bobbing softly; chubbed and half-hard in nervous arousal. Oh… this was going to be good.