[because I think someone mentioned trans Hanzo and squirting. BOYxBOY YAOI/SLASH DON’T LIKE DON’T READ]Although Hanzo had never discussed the matter with others, loathe to have them make assumptions about him, personal experience had lead him to believe squirting was a myth. He knew pornography exaggerated and lied about how bodies worked, and he’d had orgasms that left him shaky and exhausted for hours after, but he’d never squirted once. Not when masturbating, not with a partner, not even when he’d been so wet he was dripping.
And then Jesse McCree happened.
Jesse with his sun-warmed gravel of a voice, Jesse who was broad and warm and whose smile always reached his eyes.
Jesse who had offered to help him unwind after battle, and when Hanzo said he was trans, just grinned and asked, “So, do I get more places to eat?”
Jesse who didn’t take one orgasm as his cue to stop, who had eaten out Hanzo’s cunt until he was squirming, fucked him slow and deep and sweet until they’d both come, and eaten him out again after.
Hanzo hadn’t been able to grip Jesse’s hair by the end of it, muscles worn weak, and when he got close and clenched his thighs around Jesse’s neck, Jesse had crooked his fingers just so and Hanzo gushed.
There was no other word for it, and he had been alarmed, even humiliated at first before realising the faint smell wasn’t unpleasant – it was almost sweet, if anything – and Jesse looked pleased with himself, not disgusted or amused.
“That hasn’t happened before,” Hanzo said as Jesse wiped them both down with a towel before draping it across the wet patch on the bed.
“There’s a trick to it,” Jesse said, splaying his fingers and wiggling them. “And I know a thing or two about tricks.”
Hanzo would have kissed him senseless if he hadn’t still felt uncomfortable about soaking Jesse’s face.
That discomfort had disappeared since.
Hanzo had been bent over, shoved up against, or spread out on every available surface, and Jesse had taken pride in ensuring he squirted damned near every single time. It had reached the point that Hanzo felt himself get wet anytime he saw Jesse with damp hair, associating the image with Jesse’s face buried between his legs and reacting on instinct.
Hanzo had ridden Jesse’s fingers until he’d been milked dry, until he felt so raw he could still feel Jesse inside him hours after, and Jesse had given and given and given until Hanzo could take no more, and had listened when Hanzo begged him to stop.
“You’re gorgeous when you’re wrecked,” Jesse had said, drying off his hands and face before stretching out at Hanzo’s side. He’d looked like he might have fucked the sun itself, all brown skin, dark hair, and darker eyes.
Hanzo had taken Jesse’s hand, pulled it down between his legs to cup him gently, fingers covering him up instead of pressing in, and said nothing. There wasn’t anything he could think of to say, or even anything he needed to.
The silence was comfortable, and it wasn’t until after they had taken a nap and Jesse finally rolled off the bed to go shower that Hanzo came up with something worth saying.
“Thank you.” Short and sweet and hopefully sufficient.
“It’s my pleasure, darlin’.”
Hanzo stretched out, satisfied and pleasantly wrung-out, thighs splayed to let cooler air reach his cunt, and realised that yes, it really was Jesse’s pleasure. Jesse visibly loved making him come, revelled in the days when Hanzo had soaked him to the elbow, and more than once had stolen Hanzo aside after a battle to get him off without so much as touching himself.
Jesse McCree had happened to him, and every exhausted, sore, fucked-out inch of him could not have been happier.
!!!! !!!thank you for the submission!!! (☉///∀///☉)!!