: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.