Hanzo likes it when Mr. McCree takes him out to dinner, though not for the reason most people might assume. He enjoys the free food and company well enough, but his real enjoyment came from the needy, hopeful looks Mr. McCree shot him, and the knowing little glances they got from all around the tables. Those glances that told him the other patrons thought they knew exactly what was up: Hanzo being young and pretty and going to be fucked on Mr. McCree’s big cock sooner rather than later after the dinner.

He thinks it’s amusing that they think like that when both of them knew how the evening would really go.

“Sit down,” Hanzo orders him as soon as they step into Mr. McCree’s expensive apartment. His big hands flutter helplessly around Hanzo’s hips for a moment, obviously debating whether he should have a touch, but ultimately deciding against it. He blows out a long breath and sits in the chair Hanzo had indicated with a regal nod of his head.

“Did you enjoy yourself?” Hanzo asks him mildly, playing with his tie and slowly loosening the tight, perfect knot. Mr. McCree’s head tilts back, showing him his throat. He swallows hard and nods, watching the gape of Hanzo’s shirt.

Hanzo, noticing his distraction, smirks and stands up. He sheds the garment and cups a pec with one hand. Watches how Mr. McCree’s eyes bug out and his cheeks get ruddy red beneath his beard.

“Did you like ogling me tonight?” he continues.

“You’re way too pretty,” McCree agrees with a groan. He lifts his hands and drags them across his face. He looks like a man with an addiction, and Hanzo enjoys that very much.

“Open your pants. Show me your cock.”

Mr. McCree lets out a long, whistling breath through his nose. His hands are shaking as he fumbles with his pants, hectic as a young teen as he fishes inside his boxers and doesn’t manage to pull his cock out for the longest time.

When he finally does manage to wrestle it free from the wet fabric, he grunts in elation, slumping back, large barrel chest heaving as he presents Hanzo with the fat dick; ruddy red and with bulging veins. Not a pretty cock but so very, very tempting.

Hanzo’s mouth waters at the sight; the way Mr. McCree’s large fingers play unselfconsciously with the foreskin; pulling it back and displaying the shiny fat tip to Hanzo’s dark, intent gaze.

“You know what they think?” Hanzo murmurs as he slips out of his boots and leans down to pull off his socks. “They think I’m drooling on your cock right now. That you fuck my throat with that big, fat dick of yours.”

It is crude, and not his preferred way to talk, but he’s found out early how very much Mr. McCree likes it when he’s being lewd. Like now as he groans and tightens his fingers in a ring just beneath the swollen glans; milking a few drops from the slit.

“You like it that they think that way,” Hanzo states, rucking up his pant leg and lifting his foot; so smooth and unblemished looking next to McCree’s dark red dick.

It feels hot against the sole of his foot as he presses it up against McCree’s clothed belly. He allows himself a smirk as the older man immediately snatches his hand away; letting him play with his cock however he likes.

He is chuffing away like a steam engine, hands clawing at the armrests of his chair. His chin is on his chest, staring down at Hanzo’s toes curling and uncurling against the swollen head.

“If only they knew,” Hanzo murmurs, straightening his slim ankle to press the ball of his foot more firmly against McCree’s shaft. “That you pay me to be mean to you…”