Tag: mccree/hanzo

“Look. McCree.”

Jesse doesn’t know how he could ever not look. Hanzo’s back is arched to a degree that looks painful, mouth wide open in soundless lust.

He looked sleek like a cat in Roadhog’s lap, tight muscled belly rubbing slick with sweat against the generous, huge curve of the mercenary’s stomach whenever he jerked, hips gyrating.

“He doesn’t want to give my cock up, McCree.”

Mako’s voice was coming right out of a nightmare; deep and ethereal – it seemed to be smooth as silk and wheezing at the same time. It gave McCree the creeps, but it wasn’t enough to make him not want to fuck his fist – so who was the biggest freak here?

“Look at him go,” Mako purred, huge hands on Hanzo’s hips, fingers digging into the tight, small ass to pull the cheeks apart and give Jesse a better look of Hanzo’s hole – stretched and puffy around the fat cock spreading him open. Hanzo cried out a profanity at the new stretch, arms shooting up, hands scrabbling without purchase against the swell of Roadhog’s belly before he gave up with a rough sob and just held on as best he could – hugging the big man’s stomach.

“He’s working it,” Roadhog informed him – as if Jesse wasn’t able to see it. The way Hanzo’s rim tightened and relaxed, his body massaging the dick warming him up from the inside. “Doesn’t want to give it up. Glad to finally have a big dick destroying him.”

Jesse could feel his face flush with eager embarrassment, belly curling up into a tight fist of want. He was not badly endowed – but no match to Roadhog’s sheer girth.

Hanzo let himself sag forward as much as possible, forehead pressing high up against Mako’s belly just beneath his wide, muscled chest. He was shuddering all over, muscles in his back twitching for McCree’s viewing pleasure. He was soaked in sweat, and McCree dimly thought he’d never been as worked up when it was just the two of them.

He likes it. Watching Mako drag a huge hand along Hanzo’s back and tell him – not unkindly – “Little sluts need big cocks. I know… I know…”

Roadhog was only talking in short sentences, but they were sinuous – sliding right into McCree’s core and slotting into a spot he hadn’t known existed until he watched Hanzo’s eyes light up when seeing Mako’s dick. (Until he saw how Hanzo fucking cuddled with the meaty cock, rubbing his face against it and mouthing at the spongy tip until it was swelling for him and Mako was good to go.)

He was right, too – Hanzo looked loathe to lift up even an inch; preferring to just twist his hips, drag Roadhog’s cock along his needy walls and have himself stuffed to the brim.

Jesse wondered whether he had a bulge in his belly. He wondered whether next time Hanzo would turn around and let him watch from the front – how his face became slack with lust, chest heaving with gasped, little breaths.

“Watch and learn, McCree.”

McCree had never been good at that; not in his Deadlock days and not in his time at Blackwatch. But fuck him if he wasn’t turned on by Roadhog showing him how to fuck his archer silly.

Roadhog’s hands looked massive clamped around Hanzo’s thighs just above his knees – especially with how the archer’s stumps were wiggling pitifully in the air, jerking with every new drag of the wide cock against the walls of his well-used hole.

From his vantage point, McCree could see the strain of Hanzo’s hamstrings – but the archer hadn’t protested the forceful wide spread of his thighs, yet; though Jesse wondered dimly if he even was still capable of coherent speech.

His dark almond shaped eyes were wide and staring up at the masked mountain ranging above him, arms up and hands clawed into the bedding as he got fucked in sharp thrusts that had the whole bed move. He cried out – inarticulate and animalistic – with every new shove into his body, drool slicking down the corner of his mouth and eyelashes clumped together with tears of overstimulation.

No, McCree wasn’t sure at all if Hanzo could do more than just fucking take it at the moment.

“Doin’ mighty fine, babydoll,” he drawled, hand wiping a strand of thick, dark hair from Hanzo’s lips because it didn’t look like he would have the coordination to do it himself – and McCree was nothing if not caring. 

He glances up at a low, forceful grunt from Mako. He was an impressive sight, that was for sure. Huge muscles and solid, round belly that pressed down onto Hanzo’s cock whenever he leaned forward enough, squishing the poor thing between their slick, sweaty bodies and making Hanzo howl with the dual sensation of getting fucked on what was one of the fattest cocks McCree had ever seen, and the warm, smooth skin of Roadhog’s belly on his jerking, wet dick.

“You’re taking him so well. Fuck, you’re gonna gape when he pulls out. Don’t know if your hole’ll ever be like it used to. Maybe you’ll just have to live with it; that I can slide right in to your slutty ass and fuck you whenever without any prep. Because you took his fat cock like a three dollar whore and let him ream you for hours-”

He was babbling utter nonsense and he didn’t care. He always babbled when he was excited, face feeling hot and cock feeling even hotter as he watched Roadhog fuck the archer with an air of utter detachment. Mako was practically silent, other than the occasional grunt – the mask he was wearing not giving anything away.

It was surreal and scary and perfect, if Jesse was quite honest – especially when Mako let one of Hanzo’s legs go in favor of leaning forward and getting his big, meaty hand onto the archer’s chest, groping him with an air of entitlement that had McCree’s cock jerking in his slacks.

Hanzo had taken to whining – high pitched and mindless, squished beneath the huge bulk, free leg trying to curl around Roadhog’s hips as he kept fucking; driving in deep and spreading Hanzo out on his cock.

McCree could only imagine how it would be later; when Mako pulled out and left Hanzo lying in a pool of spreading cum – ready for McCree to slip into place and sample the goods.

yooo @hsmut there was talk about Hanzo loving the jizz so here a v little something.

McCree was still out of breath, chest heaving from their morning jog through the park. Fog crawled across the ground, and soon he would begin to shiver; there was no way he would escape the morning chill – not as sweaty as he was.

He couldn’t say that he minded too much, given the sight presented to him right now.

“So that’s why you wanted me so badly to come run with you,” he drawled, one hand reaching out for Hanzo’s jaw to scratch his fingers along the sharp line of his beard, the thumb of the other hooking into the waistband of his sweats.

“You wanna play out here in the open?” He cast a quick look around. They were behind a tree and some scrubby bushes, but to call it secluded would have been ridiculous.

Hanzo kept staring up at him in a kind of adoration that was going right to Jesse’s head. He wasn’t answering so much with words as he was with actions – his tongue flicking against the rough pad of Jesse’s thumb as soon as it slid close enough to reach.

McCree wondered if any of their team mates had even the slightest clue that Hanzo was, in fact, a huge slut.

“Damn,” he muttered, a nervous kind of energy tightening his belly in anticipation. “Never done shit like this before.” But never shall it be said Jesse McCree would let himself get outgunned by some kinky, nymphomaniac ninja. He still had some tricks up his sleeve.

“You want a piece of this?” he crooned, and pushed his hoodie up over his belly. Hanzo’s pupils blew wide, a little stream of haze puffing up as he blows out his breath. He manages to look annoyed and excited at the same time, even as he lets himself get slowly guided closer towards Jesse’s body.

“No… No I know what you really want. But you could indulge an old cowboy, couldn’t ya? Be a little sweet to me after you dragged me out here for your kinky outdoor shit…”

He trailed off, sighing as Hanzo nuzzled forward into his belly, cheek and nose rubbing against the crisp hair covering it; lips wet and warm and welcome as they kiss and suckle at his belly button.

“Damn,” Jesse sighed, free hand on the back of Hanzo’s head, idly playing with his little pony tail.

–

He can’t withhold his cock for too long. Hanzo is needy and single minded, and their open surroundings seem to rile him up more than usual.

Soon Jesse has to restrain him; tell him in no uncertain terms to behave himself while he drags the swollen tip of his cock across Hanzo’s wet lips and smears spit and pre-cum against those sharp, royal looking cheek bones.

The waistband of his pants has been hooked just beneath his balls. He is steaming into the cold morning air, and he feels like a fucking king when he pulls Hanzo in and makes him rub his face against his sweaty balls. He nearly fucking comes into Hanzo’s inky dark hair when all he does is groan and nuzzle in even further; tonguing cheekily and as wet as possible at his nuts before Jesse pushes him away again.

Hanzo – for as testy and sarcastic as he can be – just lets him go at it. He is puffing out foggy breaths, mouth soft and open and welcoming him to dip even just the tip inside. He looks nearly drunk on lust and gets almost adorably excited when Jesse starts jerking off right in front of his face.

He strains against the tight grip on his hair, eyes flicking up to Jesse’s flushed, intent face, then back down to his cock staring at the way his foreskin hides the fat, swollen head again and again; getting it to emerge shiny wet just a second later.

“Soon. Fuck. Soon,” Jesse groans, eyebrows drawn together. For a moment he forgets where they are – barely, badly hidden behind a bit of greenery – and just watches as Hanzo opens his mouth wide in anticipation, tongue out and waiting, shoulders positively fucking vibrating with excitement.

Jesse McCree might be a lot, but he sure as hell was not cruel. How could he make Hanzo wait when he’s been so patient for his morning treat?

His chin is lying heavy on his breast, and he thinks dimly that he probably was drooling, but he couldn’t care enough – not when he can watch how Hanzo lets him jerk off onto his tongue; eyes heavy lidded and glazed, staring up at him in satisfaction.

He can’t help but wipe the last clinging drop against the whiskers of Hanzo’s mustache, a dopey grin on his face, staring at the mess he made of Hanzo – and not hearing the heavy footsteps behind them.

crimsontentacles
replied to your post “Being always up for the weirdest kink ever, male lactation is of…”

ZOOMS CLOSE I am very much here for this, Hanzo being stressed and too frustrated to nurse and mccrree slips his fingers deep inside him to help… double amount of pleasure…

@seekthemist said: “

Tiddie milking, I knew you would get my meaning ❤ Like imagine Henzo being to strung up to properly relax and getting his stubbornness prostate-massaged out of him until his nipples are all leaking!”

(I’m v happy you followed into this fandom lol. your ideas are always top notch)

I’m also v happy and amused that both of you basically went for the same thing because Hanzo looks like he would be stressed and strung out 24/7. That boy needs to take a chill pill.

but also….

Jesse rolls his eyes up, trying to peer at Hanzo’s face. He couldn’t see much other than the sharp line of his jaw, but he could clearly hear the grinding of his teeth as he tried, and failed, to relax enough to properly let down.

McCree had been suckling for a good fifteen minutes with only the occasional hard-won drop coating his tongue – and while McCree was a very patient man when it was about nursing, Hanzo really wasn’t. He was becoming agitated with the dull hurt and the tantalizing wet pressure of Jesse’s mouth, even if he tried so very hard to seem calm and collected.

McCree rumbles low and soothing right against the wet, swollen nipple he let pop out of his mouth, slick fingers trailing up the inside of Hanzo’s leg. McCree was nothing if not prepared.

Hanzo grunts and turns his head to the side as if miffed at Jesse’s cheekiness. His hole however, when Jesse pets it and playfully pushes against the muscle, opens up more than eager – the muscles are soft and accepting, suckling him in and holding him snug inside. He can just about see the swell of Hanzo’s cheeks, and they’re flushed red. He has no idea what it means, but Hanzo hasn’t kicked him in the head yet so that was a good sign in his book.

Hanzo’s prostate felt just as ripe and swollen as his tits, and a little nudge with Jesse’s fingertip had the other man jerking and hissing through his teeth.

“Hey there,” McCree croons. He leans up on an elbow and stares at Hanzo’s flushed, sweaty face – and the swell of his full tits – as he starts slowly circling his prostate; patient drags around the area with wide, blunt fingertips.

He’s fascinated to see tears well up in Hanzo’s liquid dark eyes, jaw loosening from the desperate, hurt clench.

His hips are restless – curving up as if fucking; mindlessly reacting to the intimate petting he’s receiving from the inside.

“That’s it,” Jesse murmurs, head lowering to Hanzo’s left pec. “That’s it.”

McCree/Hanzo (+Bonus) commission

Commissioned by @milkcree 😀 had a lot of fun writing this. A few little ficlets about McCree getting the milkies from Hanzo. And one Bonus ❤

At this point McCree was pretty sure Hanzo was dying to get milked and just too stubborn to say the word. He was moving in that very careful way, making sure his biceps were not putting too much pressure on the sides of his pecs, mouth pinched in concentration.

Or maybe it was how the dark eyes were slanting towards him every now and then, sending him pissy looks as if Jesse was the one responsible for his predicament. Jesse, for his part, said nothing and just watched, fingers tapping restlessly against his thigh.

He was still smarting from the tongue lashing he got earlier, Hanzo telling him in no uncertain terms that he would come to Jesse if he was ready to get milked, and the current stalemate seemed to be the direct result of that: Jesse was dying for a drink, and Hanzo was petty enough to ignore his own body’s needs.

But Christ did they look ripe today. They looked filled to the brim; swollen in a way Jesse hadn’t seen them yet, brown oval nipples puffy and a little red tinged as if inflamed.

Jesse had to lick his lips. He was thinking how long it had been since he’d last been able to latch on and drag a satisfying mouth full of sweet, watery milk. It had to be at least… at least…

He slants his gaze over towards the clock, sweat springing up along his brow. His cock was making it hard to think – it felt the way Hanzo’s tits looked: swollen and fit to bursting. He licked his lips again. Eight hours. At least fucking eight hours since last he’s had his lips on Hanzo’s chest and –

“Uff.” Hanzo was suddenly there, heavy on his lap, and his pecs held right in front of Jesse’s face. “Oh… howdy.”

“Stop talking.” Hanzo sounded like he was really trying to remain calm and impassive, and not like he had his arms around Jesse’s shoulders and was offering up his tits on a silver plate. He even had pulled down the other side of his yukata. Jesse could feel his dick tap against Hanzo’s ass. Hanzo grunted, eyebrows drawing together in annoyance. For someone who was about to ask for help, he looked pretty pissed off.

“Do it. Now.” He was pulling on Jesse’s hair – there were small creases in the corners of his eyes. He looked like he was hurting. “And no smart remarks.”

Jesse grunts and vaguely flutters his prosthetic hand against his brow as if tipping a hat he wasn’t wearing. Hanzo growls and pulls him closer, pushing him against his chest the same time he sits down on Jesse’s cock more firmly.

Jesse sighs, mouth opening wide; making sure to suck on as much of Hanzo’s pec as he could. The skin surrounding his nipple was almost feverishly hot to the touch. Hanzo shouted above him; short and sharp like he just couldn’t help the sound of pain, and McCree made a soft, brainless noise in the back of his throat; full of sympathy as he gentled his greedy assault. He was mouthing more than he was sucking, lips dragging warm and wet across Hanzo’s swollen flesh.

The first burst of milk against his tongue and the roof of his mouth tasted so strong, he choked in surprise. Soon, he was finding his rhythm back, eyes closed as he mindlessly pulled and let Hanzo guide him with the clutching, shivering arms around his head from one nipple to the other.

Half-way through his feeding McCree realized Hanzo was moving his hips and grinding against his cock. He was vaguely surprised to not feel the need to fuck up against him; he was too preoccupied with drinking down the milk and soothing his own hot need for the simple action of latching on and nursing.

Strange.

.o.

Hanzo had seen Jesse just a couple of hours earlier – well, not quite seen, but at least heard him rummage around his room before leaving for the very early training session he’s had promised Reinhardt – yet still, hearing his excited, drawling voice come closer towards the mess hall was kind of… nice – for lack of a more adequate word.

It was good to just keep looking down at his bowl of sweet rice while listening for Reinhardt and Jesse coming closer in midst of the handful of other team members slowly waking up around the table.

It was good, right until he caught a whiff of Jesse’s scent, and his tits suddenly started… hurting. A dull pull starting in his nipples and spreading throughout his pecs as if he hadn’t had them emptied just a few hours ago.

The smell of Jesse was preceding him into the room. Warm and familiar, and made even stronger by the fact that the disgusting American pig had not showered after his training. He smelled of warm wool, bad beer, fresh sweat and the smoke of his cigars that had been ingrained into his hair and skin.

It smelled… good, Hanzo supposed. He wasn’t paying too much attention to it because he was occupied with quietly freaking out, staring at his bowl and trying not to move a muscle because he suddenly felt like he was about to burst.

“Hey there,” McCree crooned behind him. It wasn’t even directed at Hanzo in particular – just at the room in general. He probably had one hand up tipping his stupid hat in greeting.

Why was he like this.

It was like he could physically feel McCree’s voice, and – oh lord. He could feel moisture dribbling down the skin on his left side. He must have made a sound, too, because suddenly a few eyes were turning to him in mild concern, staring until Tracer choked and pointed and suddenly all were looking at his shame.

Hanzo could just sit and stare at his bowl, jaw working as his tits dribbled eager milk. He didn’t dare to look but was quite certain his yukata was starting to soak on the other side as well.

“What are ya’ll starin’ a-” McCree shuts up the second he leans over Hanzo’s shoulder, the scent of his milk probably like a red flag to the man.

“Oh, uh… I think… I… left somethin’ in your room, darlin’. How ‘bout we go get it? Right now?”

Hanzo tried to recede with dignity and refused to be thankful for McCree’s blundering rescue.

(He also refused to acknowledge the spike of needy pleasure when seeing Reinhardt stand there with a cup of coffee in his hand and a positively contemplative look in his one good eye.

He would not entertain the thought of feeding the rest of the team. He would not.)

.o.

Hanzo (3:24 AM): I was at your room. Where are you.

McCree (3:28 AM): lookn 4 smth 2 eat in city. Y?

Hanzo rubs the back of his nose. He never questioned McCree’s choices anymore. Some things one just had to accept.

Hanzo (3:30 AM): I’m full and considering milking myself into the sink.

McCree (3:31 AM): on my way

McCree (3:31 AM): dont dare doing

McCree (3:32 AM): there in a bit bb

McCree finds Hanzo in the kitchen, sitting up on the counter (next to the sink, McCree notes with an almost panic), apparently fast asleep. His head is tilted back against the cupboards, face a little slack in respite.

He is wearing one of McCree’s shirts. It’s tight around his chest and a little too long. It had been white once upon a time with some sort of band logo across the chest, but now it was grey and soft, and the logo has been washed out long ago. Staring long enough, Jesse could make out the dark disks of Hanzo’s nipples pressing against the fabric.

God, but they looked tasty. Puffy and big; the perfect size for Jesse’s greedy mouth.

“Howdy, partner,” he purred, absentmindedly pulling his hat off and putting it on the counter next to Hanzo. He dips down, hands going around Hanzo’s ribs to hold him still as he presses a gentle, chaste kiss against his left nipple. He can feel the jerk going through the assassin’s body as he wakes abruptly.

“You took too long,” Hanzo mumbles. Jesse grins against his chest and drags his tongue across the t-shirt, tonguing sloppily at the swollen nipple underneath.

“‘M sorry. I can make it up to you.”

“You should.”

And maybe Hanzo had thought about them taking it into the bedroom – or at least getting him out of the shirt; but frankly, Jesse was too greedy to bother with any of that, and the sound Hanzo makes when he starts to unashamedly suck him through the fabric was going straight to Jesse’s core.

Hanzo hisses something sharp and angry sounding in Japanese, arms coming up and fingers tangling in McCree’s hair to tug on with one hand while simultaneously cradling him closer with the other; holding Jesse to his chest and making sure his idly mouthing lips find the swollen nipple once again.

McCree groans against Hanzo’s chest. His eyes are closed in concentration, bushy brows pulled together as he tries his best to suck milk into his mouth and not let all of it soak into the fabric.

Within moments the shirt is sticking wet and see-through to Hanzo’s left tit. It’s awkward to nurse like this, and Jesse has to take his hand to help – but he can’t bring himself to stop. Not when Hanzo is groaning low and happy with each hard drag, shoulders flexing and pulling back as he presses his chest towards McCree.

Jesse’s fingers are pressing gently into the swollen, full tit, massaging the milk out faster than he can try to suck it through the fabric. When he pulls back to lick his lips, staring at Hanzo’s chest with glazed eyes, there’s a huge wet spot of milk and spit spreading through the fabric.

“You look so good, darlin’,” he mumbles, fingers lovingly pinching the brown, perky nub. He ducks out of a half-assed fist to the head and lowers his mouth with a little sigh to the other tit, more than ready to get it just as sloppy wet as the other one.

(Neither notice Tracer stumbling in, sleepily rubbing her eyes at the light in the kitchen – or how she forgets to get a glass of juice because she gapes at the spectacle and then slowly retreats.

They do, however, suspect something when she chokes on her cereal the next morning as Winston wonders aloud why the counter was so sticky.)

.o.

It was, of course, possible for Hanzo to wake up on the drop of a hat and fire on all cylinders if the situation demanded it – but he had to admit that waking up nice and slow was his preferred method.

Especially when the base around them was still quiet, none of the younger members out and about causing a ruckus and tempting McCree to get involved in their asinine shenanigans. This morning was one of the rare peaceful ones, where Hanzo could stretch out his legs down to the stumps beneath his knees, and turn his face to blindly nuzzle into McCree’s armpit, cheek rubbing sleepily against the thick hair and breathing in the scent of sweat and smoke.

He would never admit that he liked to sniff a dirty, often drunk American, and he would never be caught by anyone doing it – but he suspected McCree knew about his little weakness anyway.

That McCree hadn’t – yet – used the knowledge against him was something Hanzo was kind of… thankful for.

Jesse stirred; Hanzo’s deep breathing probably had tickled him. There was a hitch in his snoring, hairy chest motionless for a second before it stretched in a deep sigh that seemed to come from deep within. Hanzo turned his head so his cheek was against Jesse’s ribs, and enjoyed the silence in the room while McCree started waking up in slow increments.

Jesse’s eyes hadn’t even properly opened, yet his arm was already curling around Hanzo’s torso, hand searching clumsily and groping for his pec, alerting him only now to the gentle pressure of the collected milk. Hanzo supposed he should be thankful for McCree’s single-minded devotion. 

He could feel McCree’s big, rough fingers search for way too long until they finally found his nipple – circling it over and over, pressing softly against the swollen tissue before tugging on the tight bud itself. It was almost questioning, and Hanzo felt embarrassed and fond about the warm eagerness that washed through his body.

He could practically feel the milk moving; getting primed and ready from a needy individual at his side that wanted to get fed.

Hanzo bit at McCree’s pec just to hear him grunt in annoyance and gingerly pushed himself up on the bed with the stumps of his legs.

McCree turned blindly, eyes still closed and mouth open and searching as Hanzo guided him towards the desired place and let him latch on.

“Ah yeah,” Jesse sighed, voice deep and gravelly and so satisfied, Hanzo could feel a small dribble of milk tickling down the other side of his chest. He couldn’t believe how eager his body was to please McCree.

It… did feel good, though. McCree never bit – his mouth was all warmth and wetness and slow, consistent pulls. Hanzo watched him drink his fill at one pec. He let his fingertips softly dance across the sunken cheek and rubbed against the unkempt tangle of his beard that was surprisingly soft.

When Jesse made moves to switch sides, Hanzo helps by sitting up and letting him lie in his lap, decadent like a king as he opened his mouth wide and sucked as much of the filled pec as possible just to get the milk flow going – and to sloppily lick at Hanzo’s skin, if Hanzo suspected correctly. Hanzo sighed and left him to his shenanigans. He still needed to shower anyway so he wasn’t too opposed to getting dirtied up by McCree.

“Uncouth American,” Hanzo mumbles, hand gently stroking Jesse’s tangled hair as the cowboy nurses, carefully – skillfully – breathing through his nose without breaking the seal of his wet lips.

When Jesse finally pulls away after a while, there’s a drop of milk in the corner of his mouth and his eyes look unfocused and happy.

“Love to wake up like that,” he sighs and presses a gentle kiss against Hanzo’s wet nipple.

.o.

BONUS

Jack stumbled against a wall. He held his bruised ribs with one arm; the other one was still tingling and a little numb from the impact of the grenade. He tried to take a deep, cleansing breath but the sharp pain at expanding his ribs made him choke and bite his tongue hard enough to draw blood.

His knees were shaking and he had to stop behind a dumpster, eyebrows drawn together in annoyance. It would have been fine if the girl hadn’t been there. He should have not cared and just followed the thieves, but he supposed that was his problem: he cared too much.

“You look like shit.”

He bristles at the ethereal, deep voice and straightens in stubborn denial, hand falling away from his sluggishly bleeding side to grip his pulse rifle more firmly. Already his body was trying its hardest to heal itself – though he could feel his age starting to catch up with him. He didn’t feel nearly as good as he would’ve only five years ago.

It was easy for Reaper to push the rifle to the side. 76 wasn’t even trying to shoot him this time – he simply went through the motions, which was… annoying. Bothering Morrison wasn’t fun if he didn’t let himself get riled up like a little girl that got her pigtails pulled.

Gabriel had been figuring Jack might not be in the mood for a rough, hate filled fuck (even though he’d been in a grand old mood after watching Jack get blown up by a grenade; had, in fact, been planning on jerking off in his damp little abode thinking of the low, pained grunts he had hurt as Jack had pushed himself clumsily back up onto his feet), so he hadn’t even planned on approaching him.

Only… that he was now standing with him in the alleyway next to a stinking dumpster and starting to sweat from the humid, heavy air around them.

“What do you want,” Jack rasped. His voice was gravelly and filled with pain and – fuck. Reaper’s tits hurt all of a sudden. Way too much for the length of time since he last milked himself dry just a couple hours ago, his own fingers too harsh and impatient with his pecs because getting milked never felt as good as letting someone nurse, and he hadn’t had that since…

“Gabriel,” Jack hissed, eyebrows drawing together over his stupid visor. He swayed on the spot and Gabriel could feel his nipples get a little wet. He was mortified to realize he was starting to let go right here, right now, his tits hurting with milk and his belly aching with the dumb primal need to nurture and feed and strengthen-

Dios he needed Jack Morrison’s thrice damned mouth on his tits.

“Get your mask off,” he growled, face pinched in an expression of disgust behind his mask. He couldn’t believe he was even considering this.

Jack, for his part, naturally was a stubborn bitch. He pulled his shoulders up, head lowering as if he was ready to go into battle.

“Why should I. No. Just fuck off, Reyes.”

“Get your goddamn mask off or I’m gonna do it for you,” he snarled. He was fumbling for the hidden zip in the front of his suit. The milk was making him feel tacky and disgusting and he hated it because Morrison was the cause of it.

Jack took an unsteady step back as he realized what Reaper was doing. The distrust was coming off of him in waves. Sweat was glistening on his forehead. The pain and blood loss made it hard to concentrate, but he was reasonably sure Reyes was opening his – yes. Yes, he was.

“What are you-” Jack’s grunted inquiry – soft and confused, his rifle hanging in his limp hands – was interrupted by the distinct sound of a zipper being lowered; and then he just stood there and stared as Gabriel parted the leather covering his chest with impatient, angry motions – freeing his engorged pec.

There was no way to pretend the moisture around his nipple was anything but milk; not when there was a droplet still clinging prominently to the swollen tip, shockingly white against his dark brown skin.

“You’re a moron, Jack,” Gabriel snarled, though less heated than moments before; and 76 could’ve sworn he hadn’t moved even one muscle, but he had blinked, slow and sluggish, and suddenly Reaper was right in front of him; bearing down on him even though they were the same height, tits out and ripe and dripping and a clawed, unfriendly hand snatching for his face.

Jack grunted, stumbling back against the wall and hissing at the pain sloshing like foul water through his body, radiating from his ribs. He tried evading Reaper’s claw – or at least thought about it – but there was no way to follow through.

The closing mechanisms creaked pitifully as his faceguard got yanked away and thrown as garbage to the side.

He thinks he would sway on the spot if Gabriel weren’t holding him firmly against the wall, one clawed hand around his jaw, the other arm pressed across his collar bones and taking his breath away.

“I hate you,” Gabriel hissed at him, low and menacing. Jack had no idea what his face even looked like nowadays. The mask still was firmly in place and wouldn’t go off, he realized.

He couldn’t answer. His mouth simply fell open and a thick trickle of blood swamped out and slicked across his chin.

Reaper groaned.

The world spinned when he suddenly got pulled down, head getting… getting cradled – and then everything was just like way back. His lips opened without protest to the thick, ripe nipple that got shoved against his mouth. He wanted to groan – maybe whimper – and all he managed to produce was a very tired, little wheeze as his rifle slid out of his slack fingers. He blindly groped for Reaper’s belts arms shoulders – anywhere to get a grip.

Gabriel cursed low and soulfully under his breath. Now that Jack had found his tit, he didn’t need to cradle his head any longer. He still kept one hand curled around him anyway – mindlessly petting and pulling on his short hair. The other arm he used to brace himself against the brick wall behind Jack.

It was suddenly very hard to breathe the warm, heavy air around them. It seemed to stuck in his throat. It was difficult to concentrate on breathing when there were lips around his nipple, mouthing clumsily until they got back into the rhythm – one hand cupping the side of his pec before starting to massage it slowly. Jack was milking Gabriel right into his mouth, and the knowledge made Reaper’s tits hurt in the good way and his cock swell in pathetic gratitude.

He hadn’t nursed anybody in so long. He had forgotten how good it felt to have the sharp, greedy sucks of Morrison on his nipple. He could hear the wet, little slurps and his big swallows whenever he had a mouth full.

When Jack pulled off, chin messy with milk and breath harsh and fast from lack of oxygen, Gabriel could just about stifle his own raspy gasp and the whine that wanted to rise in the back of his throat.

Fuck, he hated this farmboy and his blue puppy eyes that he couldn’t even see right now but was sure had the same dopey gaze they did have way back when they used to do this on base – hidden in their tiny bunk beds, Jack getting quick, sloppy drags of milk in before one of the other recruits would bust them…

“Keep going!” Gabriel hissed, sharp talons digging unkindly into Jack’s scalp and dragging him to the other tit.

Jack didn’t protest or acknowledge how he already started feeling better – Gabriel’s milk speeding his body’s healing abilities up – and Reaper didn’t mention that he could hear how Morrison was already breathing more smoothly.

“Just keep going,” he whispered once again, voice gentler as he kept Jack’s head cradled to his chest, letting him nurse to his heart’s content.

Tiiiny ficlet accompanying this gorgeous pic drawn by @kinasty after I asked for permission 😀 Virgin!McCree jerking it for Hanzo

“It doesn’t take much for you to get… excited, does it?” Hanzo asks almost conversationally, gaze fixed on McCree’s crotch. He doesn’t look put out – interested, rather – yet still McCree flushes and closes the lazy spread of his legs rather self-consciously. He was too aware of his cock; pounding and fattening up just from the sight of his teammate’s naked chest.

Hanzo looked handsome sitting on the other side of the room, methodically brushing out his hair with meditative tranquility. Jesse hadn’t even been aware that he was being noticed, lounging on the bed as he had been, quietly suffering through the burning, nervous arousal.

Hanzo’s dark eyes were inquisitive, face impassive as he stared at the gratifyingly large bulge. He was playing idly with his comb, and couldn’t deny a certain shiver of pleasure running through him when he noticed McCree’s single-minded attention. The man was dedicated, at least – even if he was looking mortified and ashamed as he did now, knees starting to move together to shield the lovely mound of his cock from view, only –

“Stop.”

Hanzo’s voice brook no argument and McCree stilled immediately. He swallowed – Hanzo could hear it across the room – and blew out a sharp breath. He tried to look like he wasn’t concerned of the proceedings and utterly failed.

“I don’t mind. In fact…” Hanzo turned minimally, fingers still idly playing with his comb – half because he needed his fingers occupied lest he curled them around McCree’s unfairly gorgeous cock, and half because it made his biceps move and McCree seemed to rather like the view; if his feverish gaze and parted lips were to be believed. “I think this might be an excellent opportunity.”

McCree blinks once, twice, and still his gaze remains hazy. His hips are moving a little – it was probably getting rather uncomfortable in his pants and Hanzo couldn’t bring himself to feel sorry. He licks his lips and clears his throat.

“O-opportunity? For…”

“An opportunity to train yourself. Obviously.”

“Obviously,” McCree repeats dumbly. His hands are curling into loose fists. He looks almost close to tears when Hanzo lifts his comb again and resumes his grooming – like he is helpless to his own animal desires; gaze taking in the movement of Hanzo’s pecs as he moves. He groans low in his throat.

“Yes. You should pleasure yourself for me. The more you get used to company, the longer you might…” he stops himself and slants a gaze over towards McCree. He looks flustered and unsure like a little boy. “… I would like to witness it,” Hanzo admits a little more gently. Coaxing – and is rewarded by McCree’s shuddering breath as he actually moves without further quarrell, fingers shaky as he opens his belt buckle, face half hidden behind the brim of his hat.

He’s spreading his legs and pulling his booted feet up unto Hanzo’s bed, and Hanzo can’t find it in himself to tell him off because McCree has pulled out his cock and it looks… good. Thick and long, and flushed just as dark as McCree’s embarrassed face.

His mouth runs dry at the sight. He remembers having his hands on it; getting ready to fuck his throat onto McCree’s fat cock, only for him to come way too fast, and…

“B-be gentle, darlin’,” Jesse says, voice wavering. He has got his fingers around the base, pushing his cock away from his shivering belly. He is holding it up for Hanzo’s viewing pleasure, Hanzo realizes with a small jolt.

He already looks so close already. Again. He can’t bring himself to be annoyed at it – not when McCree is peeking at him from beneath his hat, sweaty and riled up just from the sight of Hanzo naked to his waist, brushing out his hair.

“Go slow,” Hanzo tells him, voice pitched low, dark eyes taking in the sight of Jesse leaning back on his bed, biting his lips and trying so hard not to let his shivery hips jerk up coltish into his own, caressing fingers.

“I’ll be gentle with you, Jesse. Just go slow. You’re doing very well.”