“Calm the fuck down, kid. Jesus.” 

Gabriel leans forward, big hands sliding beneath McCree’s jittery hips to get a good grip at his ass. It still was a little too lean for his tastes; they still had to fatten the kid up from his life in Deadlock, but they were getting there. At least enough to squeeze and get a good grope in.

“Ridiculous. Did you fuck the ladies like that? Can’t imagine that went over too well…” He watches McCree’s face darken in a flush and chuckles, broad finger inching over, rubbing against the tender little muscle he finds. “Yeah. That’s what I thought. Didn’t appreciate your hyperactive ass. That’s fine: I can teach ya. Just like in training, right? Just follow my lead.”

The kid stares at him, eyes big, mouth – that ever talking, ever laughing fucking mouth that Reyes had wanted to slap more times than he liked to admit – finally not making any sound at all. It’s just hanging open a little.

He wonders what part of his statement had finally gotten McCree’s attention. His slim hips are lying heavy and relaxed in Gabriel’s hands and when he pulls him roughly down to lay them on his lap – have better access at everything the kid had to offer – McCree didn’t try to ‘help’ again. Just followed his lead, docile and relaxed.

“Just like in trainin’,” he whispers before Gabriel can wonder if something is wrong and they need to actually talk. “Yeah, yeah. Jus’ like in trainin’. Just follow you, Commander.”

.o.

McCree is loud in bed. It doesn’t surprise Reyes. Annoys him a little, maybe, but doesn’t surprise him. His ear is ringing where McCree has put his mouth next to, clinging to his shoulders, not letting him go again after Reyes made the fatal mistake of leaning down to gently bite at McCree’s shoulder.

He could disentangle himself – but doesn’t.

The base already knows McCree is hot for his cock – it’s not changing anything that they can make sure now that without a doubt, yes, Jesse McCree was a slut for his Commander. To the contrary: it was flattering.

“Like that, do you? Bit of a size queen, McCree?” he purrs, hips flexing, cock dragging in the wet, hot clutch of that sweet little muscle he’d been petting earlier. McCree whines high and pathetic, twists his hips, tries to start up with his nervous little jackrabbit movements and gurgles on a groan when Reyes immediately reaches for him and pins him back down.

He needs to be reminded to stay where he is, every now and then – to let him take care of the actual dicking part.

“Yes, D-Daddy.”

His hips, moving in piston-like, slow, agonizing precision – stutter, slow down, halt.

He lifts his head, straining against the clutching arms of the kid, and peers down at him.

McCree grins back – broad and shit-eating, eyes glassy, dots of nervous color spreading on his cheeks. They stare at each other a beat longer, before Reyes starts grinning; can feel it stretch across his face sharp and shark like.

“Yes?” he rumbles, pushes back in with a twist of his hips, feeling himself rub against warm, giving walls; feels McCree’s weeping, sleek cock bump against the sweaty ridges of his belly. “You’re a freak like that, McCree?”

He pulls out, then snaps back in on a different angle. He watches McCree’s eyes snap open, mouth dropping from its false-bravado nervous grin into an ‘o’ of surprised pleasure.

Gabriel chuckles. Cackles. His belly is on fire and he pushes up onto his hands, getting out of McCree’s lax grip easy; ranges above him and stares down as he keeps fucking into that same, sweet space, watching McCree’s face flush with a whole ‘nother flush, eyes filling with tears, throat working around sounds that are suddenly cut off.

Jesse stares at him, eyes roaming. Reverent. He looks like he’s about to have a stroke, staring at his Commander’s sweaty, heaving body, muscles in stark relief as he fucks – and Reyes thinks he can get used to that. Fucking his newest fan.

“Yes… fuck… Daddy.” McCree has suddenly found his voice back, hands coming up, curling tight around his biceps. He’s hiccuping with every of Gabriel’s thrusts now, cock bouncing, slapping against his belly and the too thick treasure trail he probably groomed into the impossible thatch that it was.

“Daddy. Daddy. Daddy, please!” He’s howling, whining, begging, staring up at Gabriel and scratching up his arms because he keeps loosing purchase on the slick skin as he’s getting fucked.

Gabriel grins at him. Leans down – rasps right in his face: “Good boy.”