So I asked @bicosporn if I could write a lil ficlet accompanying one of their delicious delicious drawings and they were soooo sweet and allowed me to.
This here is the piece I chose. (I’ve been staring at it for days now. Those tits are just sinful. I’ll need to write some McHanzo tittyfucking one of these days.)
enjoy the mini ficlet
McCree sits back, eyes contemplative and tongue rolling the cigar from one corner of his mouth to the other. He hadn’t lit it – just kept it between his teeth because he was used to it, and because he liked the look of disdain on his pet’s face whenever he put a new cigar between his lips.
He slowly curled the leash around his fist and watched Hanzo silently fight against the heavy pull of his collar, struggling to keep upright and proud and not let himself get dragged between McCree’s lazily spread knees.
“Aawww you don’t look happy, darling,” (daaahlin’ it came out in a thick, sirupy drawl), “Don’t tell me ya’re a sore looser?” (loosah – he loved the way Hanzo’s glittering, dark eyes narrowed dangerously).
“I’m nothing of the sort.”
But oh he was. McCree could see it in the tightness of his body and the petulant moue of his lips, which he wisely didn’t mention, because he was reckless but didn’t have a death wish per se.
“Ya look gorgeous, babydoll,” he croons, trying to soothe the ruffled feathers and actually managing it somewhat as well; Hanzo practically preens – in a discreet, underhanded fashion as he tilts his chin up haughtily and pushes his chest out further, making the rope he was bound with dig deeper into his pecs.
McCree half-groans half-laughs at the sight, hand falling carelessly between his legs to give the bulge of his cock a loving squeeze through his pants.
“Damn you’re gorgeous. Jus’ look at ‘em tits of yours.” He can see a faint flush suffusing Hanzo’s cheeks, and grins lopsidedly at the haughtily averted eyes. His pet loves and hates his vulgarity in equal measures.
McCree slowly turns the wrist of his prosthetic arm, fist well visible between them as he curls the leash around his knuckles once more.
“C’mere. You look delicious and I wan’ a piece of that. Winner gets the spoils and all that, ain’t ah right?”
He is delighted when Hanzo does move; obedient like a puppy as he shuffles forward, carefully keeping his balance what with his arms bound behind him.
McCree’ll never get tired of seeing this eagerness to serve and be used in this particular man.
“If ah didn’t know bettah, I’d say you’re enjoying your little predicament quite a bit,” Jesse practically purrs. He reaches out and finally touches what he caught himself for the evening; fingers warm and scratchy from gun calluses, as he unceremoniously cups Hanzo’s left pec and drags his thumb across that ever exposed nipple that will drive him wild one of these days. It’s plump and tan, and McCree wants to suck on it until it’s swollen and Hanzo squirms.
Hanzo doesn’t dispute it this time. His liquid eyes are fixed on McCree’s face in something that looks almost trance like. His lips fall open when Jesse drags his thumb across his nipple yet again – featherlight and tickling this time -, feeling it hardening eagerly for him.
“Slutty,” he comments, a giddy kind of euphoria spreading through his belly when Hanzo closes his eyes and looks like he’s trying not to bite his lips. He sways forward on his knees, and needily presses the smooth swell of his pec into McCree’s fondling hand.
When McCree tugs lovingly first at the sensitive nipple, then more insistently on the leash in his hand, Hanzo follows easily. Willingly. He strains upwards onto his knees, and follows the pull towards his captor, deliciously naked body pressing against Jesse’s clothed front. He lets his head fall back to expose neck and collar – puts himself on a fucking platter for McCree to sample just as he damn well pleases.
“Gorgeous,” McCree mumbles indistinctly. He drags fingers along the line of Hanzo’s jaw, then gently scratches through his neatly kept goatee.
“Your team needs to loose more often in trainin’ if that is what ah get for bein’ a good boy.” He cups the side of Hanzo’s face, thumb rubbing through the thick, greying hair at his temples.
Hanzo huffs and whispers something Japanese. It doesn’t sound flattering at all, but it makes McCree grin all the more.
“Ah think ah know a bettah use for that smart, little mouth of yours…” he promises, hand falling to his large belt buckle to open it. He doesn’t miss the way Hanzo’s dark eyes widen like a cat’s when she sees prey, and he can’t keep the smug grin from his lips.
I’m so intrigued by the fandom’s love for breathplay! usually I’m not too interested in it, but I gotta say, Hanzo looks just gorgeous with a hand around his throat, I don’t even. I donnnn’ttttt evennnnnnn
Hanzo is groaning – not really in rhythm with McCree’s deep, nudging thrusts; just a constant, low sound as his hips are curled up onto Jesse’s lap, prosthetic calves gently bouncing in the air next to McCree’s shoulders.
He looks gorgeous with his arms up and against the head of the bed, keeping himself from getting fucked against the wall, and inadvertently giving McCree the best goddamn fucking view of his chest, bouncing with each of his abrupt, little thrusts.
It’s hard to fuck as hard as he wants to when he’s kneeing and has the considerable weight of Hanzo’s lower body weighing him down, but he can’t dispute how good it feels like that; how he’s so deep, it feels like he’s able to basically crawl inside Hanzo at this rate.
It’s without his own accord that his metal arm starts to wander – from a loving squeeze to Hanzo’s thickly muscled thigh it slides up and up, giving the bouncing pecs a searching grope that has Hanzo grin before the smug expression slackens once again, another groan dragged out of his chest by the slow, insistent motion of McCree’s cock.
He likes the sounds Hanzo makes during sex. Loves them, even.
It’s just… it’s just that he also loves them when they’re choked and gasping. When Hanzo’s face goes a little red from the oxygen restriction like it was doing now, drool slicking from the corner of his mouth as he stares up at Jesse with glassy, dark eyes.
He’s swallowing – Jesse can see his Adam’s apple bobbing right next to his digging metal thumb – but he’s sure he’s doing it just to feel the restriction even more.
His breath comes labored and wheezing, liquid eyes becoming even wetter when he involuntarily tears up and cries a few lonely tears that soak into the greying hair at his temples.
His cock is dark and angry looking when McCree can drag his eyes away from Hanzo’s face for just a second. He feels light headed – as if he were the one getting choked.
He still can’t believe Hanzo is letting him do this to him; is actively seeking it out sometimes – dragging McCree’s prosthetic arm towards his throat with a needy look in his eyes that he would never be able to argue with.
“Gonna kill me someday,” he growls and rocks into him once more.
I want it to be in Hanzo’s home where they parade huge paper dragons through the streets and everything is alight with colorful lights and they have small shops with Takoyaki and sticky sweet rice balls, and just everything is very traditional and beautiful and happy.
And in one of the side streets just outside the radius of the light, McCree has Hanzo against a wall, prosthetic hand in his neck, keeping him very firmly where he wants him. Hanzo’s pants are bunched around his metal knees, and they’re wide and loose enough not to hinder McCree at lifting Hanzo’s leg at the knee, pulling it up high to the side, marveling at Hanzo’s flexibility – and the sight of his ass; that dark space between his cheeks glistening and wet with lube; so alluring; teasing him into exploration.
“Do it quick,” Hanzo is whispering forcefully, head turned towards the mouth of the alley, dark eyes glistening like liquid tar from the light shining in. He’s watching people meander by, talking animatedly, and he should be indignant that McCree has no virtue and wants to defile him in such a degrading manner, but in actuality he wants it just as much, and has put up no fight other than pretending to be annoyed.
When Jesse finally fucks him, that ridiculous, heavy belt buckle is slapping against Hanzo’s ass because McCree has opened his jeans just enough to get his dick out.
Hanzo is still staring at the mouth of the alley but he’s not really looking because he’s kind of swimming away, coasting on the feel of McCree’s thick cock spearing him open and seemingly pushing in even deeper than usual in this position; it’s like he’s fucking right into Hanzo’s belly and warming him up from the inside, and he almost wants to stop clawing at the brick of the house he’s leaning against, so he can reach down and cup his belly and feel whether there actually is a bulge from McCree ramming him.
McCree is grunting softly behind him, and he sounds delighted, and when Hanzo manages to turn his head enough to peek, there’s a big, self indulgent grin on McCree’s face, teeth viciously dug into the butt of his cigar, eyes staring down where he’s deep dicking Hanzo in public just like he probably always fantasized about in his too long showers.
“Gahdamn plug’s been the best decision of mah life,” McCree croons between clenched teeth and Hanzo huffs in annoyance, even as his body flushes with pride and excitement.
Cyberrat Writes 