(Glad to hear you’re feeling better!) Blackwatch Gabriel whipping Jesse’s ass to welts with his ridiculous BAMF belt after he says something particularly bratty about him in front of the other soldiers. Either bent over the desk in Reyes office or just in public where everyone can see jesse crying like a baby, idk XD nonnie has a corporal punishment kink. Either way, Jesse isn’t feeling particularly ‘bamf’ afterwards and blushes/thinks of hot angry reyes every time he puts on his belt.

Blood is dripping thick from Jesse’s mouth. He’s on his best way to biting through his tongue and doesn’t even feel it. There’s another slap and he jerks, hands sliding in the mess of drool and blood on the table, arms nearly giving way.

The smack of the belt is loud and meaty, resounding across the yard. There are people watching, he knows dimly, but nobody is making a sound. Everybody is eager to hear the next smack – the next impact of his own belt across his ass and the spread of his thighs.

His ass feels raw and Reyes’ hand on the small of his back is like a branding iron. Warm and grounding and so gentle for once. Like he’s almost sorry Jesse is a stupid son of a bitch and how he knows he can’t help his smart mouth.

The next slap has Jesse feel the brunt of the thick metal buckle and for the first time he screams – a spray of blood spewing from his mouth, one hand sliding away for good and chin connecting hard with the wood.

He passes out from the impact or something because everything is fuzzy for a while and needs time to drift back into focus. He feels Reyes palming the ruin of his ass and hears the jangling of his belt when he lets it idly swing in his big fist.

“You know to behave yourself next time, don’t you, McCree?”

“S…. Suh….” 

He doesn’t know if it’s enough – but he feels weight slowly lowering onto his back and hears the heavy foot steps of the Commander walking away; letting McCree stand with his pants down and his ass out, his belt lying on his back coiled like a sleeping snake.

McCree/Hanzo/Genji; Reaper/Soldier76 Commission

Commissioned by the very lovely and generous @filthinessabounds.

An Au wherein nobody seems to bat an eyelash at the fact that Reyes is grooming deadly soldiers into sexual slaves lol ; McCree gets caught by Hanzo and his brother and they have fun dehumanizing him and using him for their needs.

Slowly but surely, he worms his way into their hearts, though trololol

Warning: Shimadacest. Not too explicit but def there.


“Who’s that?” Genji asks, leaning across Hanzo’s shoulder and nuzzling the side of his face obnoxiously.

Hanzo grunts and leans away, throwing him an irritated sidelong glance before focusing back on the computer screen where a dark figure is slipping across one of their garden walls.

“Just some petty thief,” Hanzo murmurs, watching how the small figure practically swaggers across the premise and directly towards a corner of the main house behind which five guards are already waiting, silent and ready to kill. Hanzo frowns and Genji murmurs with an amused kind of wonder, “Is he insane? Maybe he’s a poor homeless idiot…”

They watch as he rounds the corner – and smoothly ducks, leg sweeping out to kick out the legs of two guards. Hanzo stiffens and Genji’s fingers on his shoulders dig in deeper as the brothers watch the shadow move fluidly – five flashes of light indicating the rapid, precise shots he fires to kill their men. A second later the growling boom of the revolver reaches through the open window behind them.

“Not just some petty thief, onii-chan,” Genji observes, eyebrows drawn together as he watches Hanzo zoom the camera in to get a better look on their reckless uninvited guest who is currently sifting through the dead men’s pockets.

“Oh,” Genji whispers when they get a look at his face. “He’s cute.”

They watch him stand back up – all long limbs and trim body encased in light armor that leaves little to the imagination. Genji’s hand slowly rubs across Hanzo’s shoulder and then slides down and into the open yukata; fingertips digging into the firm tissue around Hanzo’s nipple in mindless excitement.

“I want him, onii-chan.”

“Yes, Genji. I think this could be… amusing.”

.o.

Genji is looking excited when Hanzo steps into the room. There’s a feverish flush on his cheeks, eyes glinting from where he’s standing just out of sight of their captured prey.

Hanzo has left him more time than usual with their newest acquisition – and it shows. The naked man is flushed down his chest, his nipples an angry, almost inflamed red from getting played with.

His cock is big and beautiful and curved up towards his belly in eager anticipation. Hanzo allows himself a small smirk and ducks his head in deference so nobody would see. The first days with new prey were always the most succulent – when the knowledge started to sink in that getting horribly teased would be the only thing they could expect from their little stay.

“He’s American, onii-chan,” Genji suddenly pipes up, fingers twitching restlessly at his sides. “He has a cute accent.”

Hanzo nods at him solemnly, taking in the confused, nervous jerk of their captive’s gaze. He obviously didn’t understand a word Japanese, and it wouldn’t hurt to let him think they were discussing how to dispose of him the best.

“Did he say anything else? Who sent him?”

“No. Told me I was a pretty thing, though. And that he’d make it worth my while if I let him go.”

Hanzo nearly barks a laugh at the audacity. He watches the man strapped onto the reclining metal chair. He looks uncomfortable – but not enough to stop his cock from an overager flex against his clenching abs. He seems to have no idea whether what he found himself in was a good or bad situation. Maybe he was hoping for the former after Genji has had a little fun with him earlier.

Hanzo’s face stays an impassive, clinically scrutinizing mask as he leans over the man and inspects his wild eyes. He ignores the low, crooning sounds he makes, jaw working around his gag, and instead says, “A charmer, then. They never last long. Big talk and nothing to back it up.”

He was a gorgeous specimen, however. Long limbs, dark hair, soulful eyes – and a sharp jawline barely dusted with stubble that looked like it would be very comfortable and sturdy to sit on.

The man looked barely younger than Genji.

“What did he have on him?”

“Barely anything. His gun. Shells. Some kind of grenade.” Genji grins at Hanzo. “A communicator. We can give it a shot later. Trace back the signal.”

Hanzo follows the flick of Genji’s hand towards the table on the other side of the room currently full of their captive’s clothes and the meager gear he’s had on his person. How curious.

“Nothing else?”

“No, onii-chan.”

What had been the man’s orders?

Hanzo can see sweat forming along the brow of the man. There’s a certain kind of apprehension creeping into the brown eyes, and his cock starts to flag at last. Hanzo reaches out and shushes him when the man flinches away, stubbornly trying to turn his face from the approaching hand.

He scowls when it doesn’t really work and Hanzo taps against the slick rubber of the ball between his lips.

“So,” he says, at last switching into English. He sees a dull spark flare to life in their pet’s eyes: a spark of hope. Hanzo allows a cold smirk to curl the corners of his lips up. He uses the slick spit on the rubber ball to slowly, sensually, rub along the man’s lips. He can feel the warm, nervous huff of his quick breaths tickle his fingers. “Seems like a stray mutt wandered into our halls.”

Genji shifts, moving out from behind the man and to his side. Hanzo can see him flush an immediate, dull red when the sight reminds him of whatever Genji had done to him earlier. Hanzo wishes he would have let the cameras run. He is curious, but quite certain Genji will give him a minute replay of the happenings later.

“You know where you are, yes?” Hanzo purrs. He stops getting the man’s lips wet and glistening, and grips the point of his scruffy chin, demanding his undivided attention. The man hesitates, but nods eventually. “You know who we are?” Another nod – this one accompanied by a stubborn furrowing of his bushy eyebrows.

Genji reaches out for him and idly tweaks at one rust colored nipple until the man whimpers. Hanzo is struck by how gorgeously needy he already sounds even though basically nothing has happened. He shoos Genji’s eager fingers away with one quelling glare. Now was not the time to play.

“We don’t know who you are, though – and we are so very curious about our new guest. Will you tell us your name?” They stare at each other silently for a few seconds before the man nods cautiously.

He works his jaw, tongue darting out to lick at the tender corners of his mouth the second Genji loosens the straps of the gag and pulls it from between his obediently opened teeth.

“Howdy, partners,” the man finally drawls with a surprisingly pleasing voice, and Hanzo can’t help the small smirk twitching at his lips. He throws Genji a short glance, then looks back at their captive. Silent. Waiting. His eyes zero in on the movement of his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows nervously.

“The name’s Jesse McCree.” It suits him, even though it was most certainly fake or simply erased out of history from whatever organisation had sent him. Either way, they would run it through their data banks just to be on the safe side.

“Mr. McCree,” Hanzo greets him jovially, hand falling heavily onto Jesse’s naked abdomen. He can feel the muscles clench immediately – McCree was gratifyingly sensitive it seemed.

“Welcome to Hanamura.”

.o.

“He takes it so well,” Genji near-giggles, watching how McCree’s body opens up easily to the dildo he’s working into him. “I think he’s used to it.”

Hanzo looks up from his perusal of their guest’s meager possessions and makes his way over. He stares into the flushed face; the way he has his eyes clenched tightly shut. He looks embarrassed.

“Is that so?” Hanzo asks, voice pitched low in a parody of companionable understanding. “Were you someone’s toy before?”

The dog groans and suddenly starts jerking, ripping at his ties with renewed, desperate vigor. He’s gnashing teeth into the gag they forced back in place and wildly shakes his head.

When he realizes his fervent denial has had the exact opposite effect, he sags back down into his chair – dejected.

Genji looks delighted as he rubs his cheek against the inside of McCree’s thigh and slowly presses the toy deeper until their captive grunts and his knees jerk.

.o.

“Smile for the camera, dog.”

Hanzo leans back to better get all of McCree’s body in the shot; the angry, swollen line of his cock against his messy belly; the arch of his back from having to lie on his bound arms; the cum on his bleary face dripping down his scruffy chin – he finds McCree was making a rather fetching sight. Especially when Hanzo nudges his hips forward, pushing in deeper into the welcome gape of his body. He takes another picture the second the dog’s face crumbles in almost reluctant pleasure, eyebrows drawn together and mouth dropping open as he groans.

“I think your contact will enjoy this one,” Hanzo tells him sincerely and smirks at the pitiful groan of his captive at getting reminded of his predicament.

It had not been hard to trace the signal of the dog’s communication device back, and even though the talk he’s had with the deep, growling voice of an ill-tempered man had been short and nothing short of volatile, he was more than pleased with himself.

“He will look for you, yes? You said it yourself…” Hanzo’s hands travel down the wide spread of McCree’s thighs, feeling up the trembling muscles still fighting against the ropes curled around his ankles and holding his feet up in the air.

McCree’s face flushes a dull, angry red and he grits his teeth – he hadn’t spoken for the better part of three days out of sheer stubbornness after his idiotic blunder, but Hanzo wasn’t too concerned. Sooner or later, he would sing for him.

He reaches down, curling a hand around the feverishly hot cock and gives it one gentle pump. McCree howls and arches, neck straining and body trying to writhe; to get purchase and aggressively fuck into Hanzo’s fist – needless to say he doesn’t manage any of it.

“You can come,” Hanzo coos at him, hips working torturously slow; dipping into the American’s body at his own leisure. After a second of building up McCree’s hope, he continues: “If you tell me who you’re working for.”

The dog clenches his eyes shut and harshly breathes through the process of crawling away from the very precipice Hanzo had brought him to yet again.

.o.

“P-p-p-please, I can’t. N-no.”

McCree is a blubbering, mindless mess, his lean body drenched in sweat. Hanzo suspects everything that was holding him up by now was the harness around his belly.

“I’m sure you can, Mr. McCree,” Genji tells him with a sincerity and understanding that Hanzo thinks is almost worse for the man than the insistent fingers rubbing up against his prostate. McCree is flat-out sobbing, voice cracking – and Hanzo is secretly glad he managed to stabilize the connection just in time.

“Show some backbone, boy! I can’t believe this shit. Maldito.”

The rough voice of his commander did not seem to help – if any, it was making McCree more frantic, fingernails digging against the floor until they were chipped and bleeding.

“Please stop!” he’s howling and throwing his head around, staring back to Genji who is kneeling behind him and watching with almost fond curiosity how certain movements of his fingers were causing McCree’s cock to drool out even more cum.

“I thought you wanted to come,” Genji tells him – not unreasonable, too. Hanzo watches with morbid fascination as Genji leans forward and presses a kiss against their toy’s ass. “I’m just helping you. Your poor cock looked so fat and stuffed. I think you will feel so much better when I’ve drained you.”

He is petting him, too – rubbing a hand down the dog’s sweaty back in a gentle, soothing rhythm that actually started to calm him down.

Hanzo sometimes envied Genji’s gift this particular cruelty – though, looking into his little brother’s face, he wasn’t quite certain anymore if it was still just an act.

“McCree!” the voice from the phone barks, “Don’t you dare-” he interrupts himself. Hanzo could practically hear the grinding of the man’s teeth. “McCree,” he tries again after a second, crooning this time – changing up his tactic – “You are better than this, kid. You know we’re going to get you out of there. Just hang on, alright?”

McCree whimpers. He is caught between a hard place and a rock and Hanzo feels a peculiar tug in his belly when he watches how he lets his head hang low, tears dropping from the tip of his nose.

“That’s it,” Genji coos behind him, fingers lovingly massaging their toy’s prostate into the most unsatisfying orgasm; milking him dry into a shallow bowl he put beneath the wet head of his cock earlier. “Good boy.”

McCree shudders out a breath and becomes pliant and accepting of his fate for the night.

.o.

Hanzo sits back in his chair, a scowl firmly in place.

“Again?”

“Yes, onii-chan.”

Hanzo blows out a very slow, careful breath, trying not to let his anger show too much. Genji rounds the desk and makes his brother roll back in his chair so he can place himself in his lap.

“Are we sure it was the same people?” Hanzo murmurs, stubbornly insistent on not letting Genji’s nuzzling against his throat deter him. Genji sighs and pulls back.

“There is almost no doubt. They obviously want their toy back by all means necessary. At this rate we’ll soon be defenceless because all our guard will have been taken out.”

They are both quiet as they chew on that bit. Eventually, Genji rests his head against his big brother’s shoulder and presses his face against the side of his throat.

“I like him. I don’t want to give him back,” Genji mumbles, and not for the first time Hanzo wonders if maybe his little brother hasn’t gotten too attached to the captive they’re holding in the basement.

.o.

McCree hasn’t seen daylight for more than a month and while Hanzo doesn’t find anything wrong with that, Genji is insisting that their pet should be allowed one little stroll in the neatly kept gardens behind the main house.

“He’s going to get sick if we don’t let him move his muscles more,” Genji muses while they are standing in the special basement and staring at McCree. The man in question is disoriented and trussed up, his blindfolded face twitching into the direction of their voices. He always looks more nervous when they talk Japanese, but for the first time Hanzo realizes how gaunt his cheeks are.

McCree is shivering even cramped up into a kneeling position as he was now, drool slicking out of his open mouth and onto the floor because Genji likes having unhindered access just as much as Hanzo, which is why Jesse more often than not had a spider gag prying his jaw open.

Watching McCree, he kind of did look… sad. Small and afraid, cock perpetually hard from them playing with him and not giving him release.

Hanzo scowls and turns away.

“I will need to double our guards. Make sure he is secured. I don’t want any mishap. No longer than 30 minutes.”

Genji seems mighty pleased by Hanzo’s acquiescence and squeezes his brother’s hand before setting to task on getting the dog ready for his walk.

They end up sending whoever McCree’s commander is a video of the mutt lying in the grass, still naked and hobbled but looking more content than either of them had ever seen with his head in Genji’s lap and his bruised-looking eyelids closed against the sun.

Hanzo is quiet while he films Genji stroking McCree’s dirty hair and down to scratch beneath his chin until McCree is tilting up for it and rumbling low in his chest.

He quickly stops to film when he feels his throat go strangely tight and he has to look away.

Twenty minutes later Genji is taking pictures of McCree lying stretched out in the warm grass and cuddling with Hanzo’s cock as if he was making love to it. There’s a certain kind of serenity in his face that had not been there yet as he drags his tongue slow and familiar across the swollen head of his master’s cock while sunlight warms his back.

They end up sitting and choosing various pictures of McCree’s relaxed face sticky with cum and him trying to lap at what has seeped into the beard that had grown in his captivity while McCree is rolled up at their feet and dozing, his hard dick getting tickled by the grass. For once, he doesn’t seem to mind not being able to come without their permission.

Genji finds out that McCree loves sweets and promptly proceeds to let him lick melted chocolate from his fingertips – and then his nipples – when McCree has eaten his daily meal like a good boy.

Hanzo, in turn, finds out McCree has a thing for cigarette smoke, after blowing it into his face on an idle whim and listening to McCree groan dragged out and needy, nostrils flaring and chest heaving as he tries to suck in as much of the smoke as possible.

They record the dog’s pathetic begging for more as Genji edges him slowly with a thin, faintly vibrating rod that he slides round and round the angrily swollen cockhead, and Hanzo blows smoke into his eyes because he likes how their pet looks when his bleary gaze clears after hectically blinking.

(Genji takes a picture of him directly sharing a drag of his expensive cigarette by kissing the mutt lewd and deep just because he had been wondering how those little, needy sounds would feel on his tongue.

They don’t send that picture but still keep it for their own purposes.)

“Please, please, please,” McCree is whispering, ass high in the air and hands clawing at his own cheeks to pry them apart and show off the soft gape of his hole; the flushed, swollen rim and his tender looking balls peeking out between his thighs. “In here,” he whimpers, voice rough and broken on a sob.

Hanzo pauses for a second, eyebrow furrowing in surprise. He flicks a gaze towards Genji who looks like he’s going to vibrate out of his skin behind the camera he’s holding.

“Yes?” Hanzo murmurs, one hand gently petting down the slope of their pet’s back towards his tailbone. He plays with him – fingertips rubbing along the very edge of his well used hole. “You want my cock?”

“Y-Ye…” he chokes on his own drool in his excitement, fingernails digging harshly into the skin of his pert ass. “Yes, please! Master, please!”

“Don’t you want to come?” Hanzo prompts gently, shuffling forward and replacing his teasing finger with the flushed head of his cock; dipping it into the needy gape and pulling away before McCree can try to suckle him in. The dog sobs but doesn’t strain backwards into the touch. He stays right where they put him and doesn’t move an inch.

“N…no… please. Want your cock,” he rasps.

Hanzo leans over him as his cock slides slow and smooth into a now familiar and well-loved space. Fucking McCree has become somewhat of a comfort, he realizes dimly as he puts his hand into the back of the dog’s neck and holds him down – needlessly, to be honest, since McCree is not going to go anywhere and just moaning rough and happy on his cock.

It makes for a better visual though, he finds – especially when he looks up directly into the camera and grins triumphantly, because whoever McCree’s commanding officer is, and whatever organization had sent him: now they had to know that the little fuckdoll was theirs.

Hanzo was quite pleased with himself – even though in the end, McCree was just as much a mystery as he’d been the first night. They had never gotten him to tell them anything; a fact that made Hanzo begrudgingly respect the little slut.

.o.

Their game had been fun two months ago. Now, several well-trained guards and expensive resources later, Hanzo was getting more than tired of it.

Had it been any of their other pets, he’d have killed it and thrown it out as a warning to its ilk long ago. As it was, however…

…they were in a stalemate; as simple and as complicated as that. He recognized that the man pulling the strings on the other side was just as stubborn as he, and it made for a volatile and drawn-out game of cat-and-mouse.

Sometimes Hanzo wondered about this other man and how badly he wanted McCree back. It couldn’t be out of too much affection, really – from what he and Genji had surmised from the dog’s reactions at the beginning, he’d been well trained and often fucked, yes, but also nearly pissed himself on the occasions Genji was too enthusiastic and got him to choke on his cock.

In the end, it didn’t matter too much – and didn’t change the fact that having McCree in their possession was simply expensive.

It was amusing – though not surprising, if he was honest – when the growling voice on the other side of a sudden late-night call was begrudgingly telling him the same thing.

“He’s a good cock sucker but honestly not worth the effort. I propose a deal between you and me.”

“Is that so.”

“Yes. That’s how it is, puta. Now listen up.”

.o.

“I’m surprised you actually agreed to this, onii-chan,” Genji muses, focused on the jaw he was carefully shaving. McCree was sitting still, eyes half-closed and content. He did not have a gag in this time, and all he’d said when Genji had let him spit it out into his palm was ‘Thanks partner.’

“Mostly I’m curious about this man. He did train him well.”

They watch as McCree, looking very handsome and very young without the scruff he’d had amassed, nuzzles affectionately against Genji’s shoulder. There is none of the previous apprehension he had shown whenever they had talked in Japanese around him; an easy trust radiating off of his whole person.

When Genji puts a hand on his thigh and pets him there, he eagerly opens his knees; giving them easy access to everything. Hanzo can’t help the fond feeling bubbling up in his chest, but the communicator in his ear crackling to life saves him before he does anything stupidly sappy.

‘Your guest has arrived, sir.’

Hanzo straightens and slides hands across his front to smooth down expensive, silky fabric.

“I will go and welcome our guest. We will be coming when all the… formalities have been taken care off.” McCree’s gaze flickers over to him, face losing a bit of its color. He seems nervous and apprehensive, but doesn’t bring his earlier vague protestations about the meeting up again.

(‘Don’t you want to see your old master again? You must be missing him,’ Hanzo had asked in mild amusement, sniffing delicately when all McCree did was squirm on the spot.

‘Is he dangerous?’ Hanzo had queried further, voice silky, fingers gentle as he scratched their pet behind its ears. He wondered if this was it – whether now of all times he’d finally get the answers he had been looking for.

McCree had closed his eyes, nuzzling against the inside of Hanzo’s wrist.

‘’Course he is, master,’ had been all he had been willing to say on the subject.)

Hanzo dallies a little longer, waiting for McCree to voice his protest again. When all he does is look up at Genji in embarrassed arousal, gaze flicking towards the shiny machine not far away, Hanzo huffs and makes his leave.

McCree was infuriatingly loyal.

The man had introduced himself as Reaper with a sardonic grin on his face and a hard glint in his eyes – and Hanzo had realized that yes, this man was dangerous; but also that they were cut from the same cloth.

Little was exchanged apart from sharp nods and almost begrudging greetings. The money was digitally transferred in the solemn silence and isolation of Hanzo’s office. He refused to be intimidated by the sheer bulky size of the man on the other side of the desk.

He had been waiting the duration of their bitter silence for Reaper to give in and ask to see his pet one last time, but was sorely disappointed. The man stood like a rock, scowl firmly in place and mouth pulled into a frown. From the looks of it, he had been ready to abandon the dog in favor of his own wounded pride.

Hanzo could… respect that.

“A last… parting present. If you will,” he had conceded eventually, gesturing towards the door with a small, economic motion. Reaper had shot him a scowling, wary gaze, then huffed out a laugh, uncrossing his arms from his wide chest.

“I hope it’ll be worth it.”

“Oh. It will.”

It is.

Genji has prepared the dog beautifully; long shaggy hair brushed out to a shine and pulled back into a low sitting ponytail to show off the contortions of his face; oil rubbed into his skin to get it slick and shiny for their added viewing pleasure where he kneels above a low stool with a thick, sturdy leather seat that Jesse could push against in abandon and get out all of his frustration without fear of it breaking down or him hurting himself in his efforts.

Standing to the side, Hanzo is struck again with how plain gorgeous McCree is. Limbs long and with lithe, quivering muscles as he strains aimlessly against his bonds. He has long since stopped actually fighting their appropriation of his body; all his shifting and jerking just a mindless reaction of his overloaded brain as the machine behind him works relentlessly at driving him insane.

The apparatus was as sleek it its design as it was simple; one piston of stainless steel gleaming wet and oily in the warm light of the single lamp whenever it pulls back enough to show before driving in once more; sliding in buttery smooth and getting McCree to whimper.

The sound is muffled around Genji’s cock, wide brown eyes looking up at his master with loyal adoration.

“Well.”

Reaper doesn’t say more for the longest time. His face has taken on an almost wistful expression before a smirk pulls at the corner of his mouth and he slowly makes his way over; steps carefully measured and heavy on the bare concrete of the floor.

Hanzo can see the dog stiffening, body jerking against the low stool Genji has bound him to. He wants to turn his head but Genji’s hands are there holding him, not letting him pull off his cock as he nudges in deeper until he was pushing against the resistance of McCree’s throat.

McCree, in his inattention, gags – the sound wet and soft and adding to the lewd noises plainly audible above the low electrical buzz of the machine fucking into him.

His eyes have turned, rolled to the side, trying to get a glimpse of his old master as he listens to the boots step closer. Heavy and foreboding.

“You look comfortable, whore,” Reaper purrs finally. He squats down, pushes the edge of his beanie up with two fingers – not to see better but so McCree can clearly see his face.

McCree whimpers and chokes, a thin line of drool slicking from the corner of his mouth. He is shaking when Reaper puts a big, gloved hand onto his bad and slowly scratches the sweaty small of his back as if petting a pet behind its ears.

McCree’s cock, Hanzo sees with mild amusement, jerks against the smooth leather of the stool. It is as eager as it hadn’t been in a few weeks, even though – or maybe because – Jesse looks terrified.

His hips wriggle, trying to get away from the relentless fucking of the machine, eyes going big and scared when Reaper laughs at him and smacks his ass harshly, then proceeds to slip big fingers down the sweaty cleft and nudge the well prepared muscle.

“They spoiled you,” Reaper accuses, fingers dipping in alongside the steel cock driving into the man. Hanzo can see McCree’s eyes roll up, gurgling out unintelligibly as Genji keeps fucking him; makes him choke on his cock while petting his hair in adoration.

He wonders idly whether they would be able to drive McCree insane with all the differing sensations – the gentle petting and rough fucking. Telling him he’s a good boy in one ear and accusing him of being a bad one in the other.

“You just lie here and let them service you. You’ve gotten lazy.” Reaper sighs, pushing in deeper rough and too fast until Genji has to pull back because McCree needs to howl and get it out of his system. His cock is jerking and slapping relentlessly against the leather, body vibrating and toes scrabbling as best as possible against the floor as he tries to somehow breathe through the pseudo double penetration.

“I think I won’t miss you. I’m not one for lazy sluts, as you know.” Reaper finally pulls out – Jesse whimpers and clenches his flushed hole around the suddenly insufficient width of the dildo – , just to reach further down between McCree’s thighs and take a hold of his feverish cock.

“Are you going to come for me, little whore?” Reaper purrs, voice deep and ominous. The dog lets his head hang low. He’s wordlessly sobbing and shaking his head, shaggy hair slowly coming loose of the pretty ponytail.

“No. He isn’t allowed to,” Genji suddenly says, voice gentle and full of pride. He kneels down in front of Jesse and lets him mindlessly nuzzle against his chest.

Reaper looks intrigued, hand squeezing just this side of too tight as he gives Jesse a few jerks, measured to align with the harsh fucking of the machine from behind. McCree screams against Genji’s chest, smearing tears and snot against it – but doesn’t come. He is sweating bullets, hips flexing with shivery nervousness to and fro. He is unable to find even one position that doesn’t put him into agony; either he strains back into the machine, letting it push and nudge up against his prostate, or he hunches into Reaper’s fist and the tight agonizing drag of his leather glove against the overheated swollen shaft of his cock.

He is shivering and mindless in his need, a pure receptacle for what they have in store for him, and he wasn’t even begging them to stop.

He’s a good boy.

“Still…” Reaper sounds almost put out. Like he’s pouting. “I don’t think you’d last longer than my new pet.”

Now that intrigues Hanzo.

He clears his throat delicately and draws Reaper’s gaze back to him.

.o.

Hanzo has to admit: watching two pets fight for their masters’ approval was… exhilarating. Reaper’s boy was, in fact, no boy anymore – but his body was just as tight and eager to provide, even as scarred as it was.

Watching them practically snuggle with each other, exchanging wet little kisses for their viewing pleasure, pink slips of tongue visible every now and then… it was nice. Very, very… nice.

“I want to invite them more often, onii-chan,” Genji whispers into his ear, breath warm and a little wet. He’s excited, pulling his brother’s hand over and into his lap, and Hanzo can’t help but lovingly squeeze the warm bulge he can feel as he watches ‘Soldier’ – they hadn’t been given another name – eagerly mount one of McCree’s thighs to rut against.

They are silent at first; making no sounds other than sharp, little puffs of breath and the wet smacking of their needy kisses – until Reaper slams his fist onto the table next to him and stretches out more decadently on the couch they’re enjoying the show from.

“Louder,” he demands – and the pets follow blindly. Eagerly. Sweet little moans with rough voices drifting over to them as Soldier hunches and bucks against McCree’s hairy thigh, getting the crisp hair sticky with pre-cum.

Jesse, as much as he had turned around and was happy with the two brothers, very much was still tuned into the sinuous drawl of his old master’s voice, it seems.

Soldier’s hands are in McCree’s shaggy hair, taking generous fists full of it and pulling Jesse’s head back to practically attack his jaw with biting little kisses that have the dog whining and straining up – both of them trying to hump the other, their movements frantic, almost feverish.

“How long did you say since he was last allowed to come?” Hanzo asks idly, hand slipping secretly between the folds of Genji’s hakama until the young, sleek cock practically springs into his palm.

Reaper makes a flicking gesture with his fingers – uninterested and distracted. “A month. Maybe two.”

Hanzo grunts – more to disguise Genji’s needy gasp and how he is squirming; fucking up into Hanzo’s fist and clawing at his arm as they watch Soldier and McCree wrestle with each other; shoving and pulling, biting at whatever skin available in their need to make the other come, until they are finally in position: Soldier on his back and Jesse kneeling above, their hard cocks flushed painfully dark, bobbing right into each other’s face.

“Don’t you dare fucking shootin’ before he does,” Reaper growls, dark eyes boring into the action, an obvious erection tenting his black combat pants. Soldier whimpers – a strangely alluring sound with his rough voice – and jerks his hips up mindlessly. His cock slaps into McCree’s cheek before Jesse can open his mouth and try to catch the bobbing, wet tip.

“Fuck!” Soldier shouts, fingers digging into Jesse’s ass. He is panting, chest heaving with his quick little breaths, blue eyes wide and panicked as he flicks a gaze towards his master, then stares blindly at McCree’s dick and the dark, ripe swell of his balls just centimeters from his nose. It takes him a second or two – with Jesse slurping loud and lewd, eyes closed in bliss – until he can get his bearings back under control and dives right in.

Hanzo thinks he’s never watched anything more beautiful than those two sluts fighting for dominance – sucking for all they were worth and utilizing dirty tricks to achieve their goals.

Jesse was the first one to cave for it; letting Soldier’s cock slide out of his mouth so it could slap wet against the tight clench of his abs before he ducked down lower, lips wet and needy as they got dragged across the older man’s balls.

Soldier whines – muffled – tendons in his neck straining as he scrabbles for any semblance of tranquility all the while choking himself on Jesse’s cock.

“You’ve always been working dirty, McCree,” Reaper says, a laugh in his voice. He seems almost begrudgingly admiring.

Soldier, for his part, manages to wet a finger before rudely pushing it against the tight clench of Jesse’s hole; making him loose rhythm and equilibrium as he gets sucked and stimulated from the inside at the same time. Hanzo can see those brown eyes getting large as he chokes and has to pull back, hips canting back needily into Soldier’s ministrations.

Hanzo clenches his teeth, fingers wet from his brother’s cock sliding silkily between them. Genji is panting wet and warm against his neck, one eye constantly on the display of the pets.

“Dog!” he growls – and McCree jerks back to work, drooling eagerly all over Soldier’s flexing cock as he licks it back into his mouth to suck on with gentle pressure.

In the end, it is an innocent hand that tips the scale – McCree petting lovingly, mindlessly along Soldier’s side and lying low on the desperate clench of his abs where he sweeps his thumb along the skin in slow sweeps. It is like the orgasm gets shocked out of the older man – he’d not been prepared for the simple show of affection; whining as he slings his arms around McCree’s hips in a crushing hug, howling his climax against the inside of Jesse’s thigh.

They can’t see the cum – but they can hear Jesse swallowing; his face smug and dreamy from the nice, warm load he had been treated to.

Reaper hisses obscenities in a language Hanzo can’t name. He is furious and his pet looks heartbroken even as it’s still shuddering through the mild aftershocks, chest heaving and face flushed. Hanzo can’t keep the smug smirk from his face; eyes wandering to McCree’s face, lips swollen and parted, and eyes glassy in dumb animal need.

Oh what a good boy he was.

.o.

“You look gorgeous,” Hanzo croons. McCree really does; kneeling on a plush, richly ornamented cushion in Genji’s rooms, clad in nothing but a silky, expensive yukata that can’t begin to hide his eager erection – not that it was supposed to.

McCree grins from ear to ear. He looks almost drunk, eyes heavy lidded in pleasure, body straining towards Hanzo with the need to get over to him without actually moving from the spot they had put him on.

Genji is still rummaging around in the bathroom after having spent the last half hour hand feeding their pet little bites of delicacies.

“Good pets always get treats,” Hanzo promises him and steps closer into easy range, hands carding through his shaggy hair as McCree nuzzled forward into his crotch, breathing in deep the smell of his cock.

He lets him play; even as Genji finally comes out of the bathroom, triumphantly holding up the special sleeve they purchased just for their pet.

Hanzo hugs Jesse’s head to his abdomen as Genji kneels down behind him and presses a kiss against the back of his neck, hand with the silicon-filled sleeve coming forward to gently push it around McCree’s weeping cock.

Hanzo can feel the slut’s shout even before he hears it; has to hold him as McCree jerks forward, hips stuttering helplessly into the seemingly wet, silky clutch around his cock.

Genji holds it steady, letting Jesse fuck into his hand. He is whispering encouragement against the back of his head – almost babytalking him as McCree desperately fucked the toy, hips jerky and coltish.

“You can come,” Hanzo promises him when he turns his head and throws a feverish, panicked gaze up at him. “You can come as often as you like today. Good pets always get treats.”

Being allowed to come to his heart’s content until he was shivering and oversensitive, cock messy and pink from exertion, had not been McCree’s first treat – just the beginning of many.

Hanzo had to admit that watching the dog carefully stretch out on one of the huge cushions in their private home at the back of the Shimada estate was a treat in and off itself. Jesse McCree looked like an exotic bird with his warm brown skin and hairy countenance in midst the traditional Japanese setting and Hanzo already knew that he would use every opportunity to show him off like a precious, raw jewel.

They got him two servants to attend his grooming – pretty little things as demure as they were efficient – and Hanzo had come to watch that first time after Genji had called him over excitedly; standing in the doorway and watching his pet’s confused, almost fearfully-aroused look as he lay on his back and stared down his long upper body to where the two girls were handling his cock expertly between their small hands, pushing it this and that way to carefully groom the unkempt tangle of his pubic hair into a pretty, silky mat of shortened stubble.

He’d been making soft, nervous sounds in the back of his throat, toes curling and hips carefully still, obviously eying the sharp blade so close to his cock with trepidation.

As a treat for being a good boy, they jerked him off and let him come across their strong, talented fingers.

Not seldom was McCree presenting him or Genji with a pretty, new accessory the two had gotten for him; a new yukata tailored to perfection; a toy stuffed into his hole and shown off with his ass in the air and sweaty face pressed against the floor…

McCree had a good – if… exhausting… – life.

“You’re going over to onii-chan like this, yes?” Genji purrs right into his ear, arms hugging him from behind – actually hugging. Genji is the most demonstrative with his affection; keeping Jesse close even as he makes him ride him for the second time as Jesse’s legs start shaking in exhaustion and his lungs burn with the sharp, panting breaths he is taking.

Genji is gentling him through all of it; whispering praise and encouragement as he trails gentle fingertips along the straining length of Jesse’s cock.

“I’m going to get you sloppy and full, and you’re going to crawl over to onii-chan and let him have you like that.” Genji is babbling, his happy unashamed filth making McCree’s ears burn and his ass clench in eagerness. Fuck yes, he wanted to get sent to his other master filled up and dripping. Fuck yes he wanted master to fuck into his sloppy ass and use him…

“And when he’s done with you,” Genji murmurs, bucking up and McCree see stars as he pushes right against the ripe swell of his prostate, arms still hugging him like a big teddy bear and keeping him on the seat of his master’s lap even when he gets light-headed and loses control of his limbs, “You’ll come back here and let me give you your present. I want to fill you up until your belly is bulging. Want you to look like our pregnant little house whore… lounging on our cushions and getting spoiled…”

McCree whines strained through the makeshift gag Genji had stuffed into his mouth – probably his underwear or something – eyes rolling towards the equipment to the side; the one that would fill him with an artificial, harmless substance that would keep him full and bloated…

“You like that, precious pet?” Genji whispers, hand lovingly stroking McCree’s flat belly and feeling up the shivering abs.

“Yes,” Jesse mumbles through the gag, drool soaking into the fabric. “Yes, please!”

Hanzo likes to have McCree during the times when everything is silent and only the night shift guards awake.

Jesse has to admit, he likes those occasions the most; when he can sit on a plush pillow between his master’s thighs and listen to him typing away or scrawling on a piece of paper; working relentlessly while Jesse is keeping his cock nice and warm, a spider gag helping him to keep his jaw open.

He’ll be allowed to rest his head against his master’s thigh when he gets too sleepy, tongue rubbing against the soft cock whenever he can remember to do so.

Master never seemed to care about him not paying perfect attention at these times – like he was favoring Jesse’s companionship even above the use of his mouth.

Every now and then, his master’s hand would slip down and give him an affectionate scratch behind the ear.

Jesse was in heaven.

@hon-art take a small young!McCree getting wrecked by thighs and ass.


Reyes slams McCree to the wall, arm at his throat and pressing in until the kid is flushed and gasping for air.

“You think you’re hot shit, don’t you, pendejo?”

McCree’s face crunches up, hands clawing at Reyes’ arm. He’s flushed and his eyes a little too glassy – probably has had too much punch already.

“C’mon, pardner,” he whines, “it’s the goddamn Christmas party. I thought I had a wish or somethin’?”

A death wish more like; Reyes narrows his eyes at the new one – freshly off the hook. Having dodged jail by the skin of his teeth seems to have given him an extra boost of confidence – it was the only explanation Gabriel had to this ingrate slapping his ass at the buffet table and telling him in a slur and with an infuriatingly charming grin: “My wish is ta get buried between those cheeks, commander.”

“You’re a fucking idiot,” Reyes tells him low; almost gentle with a kind of regret that makes McCree blink stupidly at him. He was a pretty enough kid – only had shit for brains, it seems.

It only takes a second to have him on the ground, groaning and rubbing the back of his head – and then crying out in confused alarm when the world goes dark as his commander takes a seat right on his face, rubbing his taint and balls against the bridge of his nose.

“Get to work,” Reyes growls, thighs clamping down around McCree’s ears until the kid is whining into his ass crack and desperately clawing at his back.

“Get to work, damn you!” Reyes hisses, grinding down and dragging his hole across a protesting, babbling mouth. He reaches down and pinches McCree’s nose shut until the kid finally gets with the program and starts licking out of sheer animal desperation.

A few seconds later he is moaning like a whore, clawing fingers loosening until he can hold big, comfortable hand fulls of his commander’s ass.

Reyes sighs and closes his eyes, hips gently rocking on top of McCree’s face. The kid was a sloppy eater and got tired too fast – but he’d train that out of him soon enough.

And throwback to that catch me if you can au, where hanzo was still goading reaper. Imagine reaper getting a phonecall from hanzo, untraceable ofc, and mccree is on the other side moaning and begging for Hanzo’s dick. And hanzo telling mccree how much he likes it and Gabriel is fucking FUMING

Hanzo harshly flicks the very tip of McCree’s ear, making him flinch and howl in enraged indignation and pain.

“No, dog. I haven’t given you permission yet.”

He watches McCree in the mirror ahead; the way he gingerly moves his jaw, teeth clacking on the metal bit Hanzo forced between them earlier. He is tilting his head blindly, cheeks flushed a dull red beneath the blindfold.

Hanzo curls the reins once more around his fist, watching how it pulls McCree’s head back; showing off the strong line of his jaw, liberally peppered with stubble. He would need to shave him if he were to sample the dog’s mouth between his legs again, but for now he had other ideas.

Carefully – silently – he places the phone on the floor in front of his stolen treasure.

McCree whines when the motion brings them closer together; Hanzo’s cock slipping into the crack of the dog’s ass, leaving a wet smear at his tail bone before he pulls back once again.

McCree huffs like a stallion and lowers his head, putting its weight on the reins in Hanzo’s hand. Hanzo can see the way his ribs expand with his careful, deep breaths. He delights in how vocal McCree is, and hopes his commander hasn’t hung up yet.

(He doubts he has. Reyes was obsessive enough to want to hear the degradation of his former toy.)

“Do you want this, dog?” Hanzo accompanies the leering question by slapping his cock against McCree’s ass. The mutt shuffles his knees farther apart, back arching down to try and open his ass up farther. Hanzo was quite sure he would have spread his cheeks for him, had his arms not been bound behind his back – pure safety measures.

And as lovely as the sight was – the knowledge that he’d broken the American dog down enough to get him to display like a bitch in heat – it would not do; no, not at all.

Hanzo jerks at the reins, and slaps his other hand against McCree’s thigh, connecting with a loud, satisfying smack.

McCree’s head rears back, a startled shout ripping out of his throat. His head tries to swerve from side to side, disoriented, blood that had rushed from his face, coming back to suffuse his cheeks as his shout dwindled into a moan, lips wet and swollen around the bit digging into the corners of his mouth.

“I asked you a question,” Hanzo goads, voice silky and dripping with venom. He pets a hand down McCree’s sweaty side in a parody of affection, then curls it around his cock once more to help himself slip it through the crack with slow, sensual thrusts. “Do. You. Want. This.”

His fingers tickle McCree’s bound testicles; feeling how warm and swollen they are. Filled with warm, thick cum that the dog had been collecting for a week now.

McCree looks feverish, even with his eyes blindfolded. Drool is slicking down his bottom lip, teeth gnashing on the bit as he shakes his head against the tight reins without any relief. Hanzo’s fist is curled tight around the leather, not giving an inch.

“Yesh,” McCree mumbles, voice wrecked and deep. “Pleashe… gi’ me… gi’ me…”

Hanzo’s fingers trail further up, easily dipping into McCree’s hole; soft and accepting from days of relentless fucking. It feels hot; the rim puffy and nearly inflamed looking. A pretty little thing mouthing weakly at the tip of his cock whenever he deigns to give it to him.

McCree sobs when he feels his captor’s fingers invade his exhausted body; it’s an animal sound; raw and beautiful. Hanzo feels his cock flex at the thought of what it had to do to his commander.

Oh how he wished to be a fly on that particular wall – wherever Reyes had holed himself up, trying to figure out where Hanzo had squirreled away his boy.

Unfortunately for him, a dragon was very skilled at hoarding his treasure.

“You’re so open, still. A few weeks of good use and your body is gagging for cock. You did not have this in your old life, yes? Nobody to take care of your needs. Utilize you like your body craves.”

He is jeering, and he can see the dog’s hackles rise for just a moment before the fight seems to entirely go out of McCree. His voice is cracked, and weepy when he begs, “Please give me your cock? Please, I need your cock; need you to fuck me, need… need… p-p-puh-lease, master?”

He was barely intelligible, his blubbering only adding to the bit between his teeth – but Hanzo felt like the message had been clear enough. 

Oh – had it been clear enough.

“Good dogs do get a treat.”

He stares down between them as he starts pressing forward; feeding his cock inch by inch to the hungry, soft hole hugging him warm and tight the deeper he slips.

McCree is groaning mindlessly, weight hanging onto Hanzo’s fist as he starts sagging and not caring about the bit pulling painfully against the corners of his mouth.

It seems like he had finally broken this particular stallion in.

Hanzo fucks him slow and easy. There is no rush and no need for further needling – McCree, trapped in darkness, riles himself up better anyway.

He howls softly with every new gentle nudge inside, body sweating and shaking as he tries to anticipate whatever could come next.

When Hanzo lays his left hand on his right hip with a gentle pat, the dog nearly jumps out of his skin and needs to be – quite literally – reined back in.

He is drooling on the phone, Hanzo realizes dimly, however he is loathe to move and push it farther away. He just hopes it is still working.

Reyes is gnashing his teeth, cock angry and hard in his combat pants, fingers digging into the arm rest of his rickety armchair.

He would kill Shimada when he finally got his hands on him. He would kill him slow and painful; make him cry like a babe for his mamá.

But not before fucking his toy in front of his bloodied nose, and showing him how it was done.

[Part 1] [Part 2]

Gabriel’s grin is too wide. His teeth seem to be never ending in his jaw, inhumanly sharp and glinting like bone against the darkness of his skin.

“Hear that, Shimada?” he purrs, body bearing down on the other man. He is more mist than flesh – soot that wafts in and out of focus and that makes it near impossible for Hanzo’s scrabbling hands to get a grip as Reaper’s jaw falls open and a too long too dark tongue snakes out to drag along his throat and the soft, vulnerable underside of his chin. “McCree wants to replace you with the real deal.”

(McCree, for his part, is just staring, a numb whisper of “oh shit…” falling from his lips. He looks like he doesn’t know whether he should be afraid or turned on by the proceedings, cock half hard and undecided in his gripping, motionless hand.)

Hanzo growls, dark eyes flashing – blunt, human teeth bared in a surprisingly accurate facsimile of Gabriel’s demonic grin.

“I haven’t heard the good soldier protest either.”

He says it softly; whispers it into the vague shape of Reaper’s ear like a lover.

Gabriel freezes, the realization apparently just dawning on him, and Hanzo utilizes his lack of concentration to curl strong thighs around partly formed hips and swing them around onto their sides; giving himself room to breathe without getting smothered by the substantial, if formless, bulk above him.

Gabriel seems shocked into his human form for the moment; only little tendrils of smoke curling up around his shoulders as he stares at Hanzo.

When his gaze flickers over towards the two men standing to the side of the bed and watching, he looks almost… sheepish. Unsure. Shy.

The look vanishes as fast as it had come over him. Reaper tilts his head, pressing their foreheads together in a parody of intimacy, and reaches down, hand curling around one of Hanzo’s ass cheeks, fingers intrusively sliding in deep; rubbing across the warm clench of muscle he finds there.

Hanzo grits his jaw at the broad, dry fingertip trying to wriggle its way inside.

“You’re so uptight,” Reaper croons, amusement badly hidden, “no wonder McCree wants to swap it around. He wants to have a fuck that isn’t taking it like a fish. He wants someone that can give it back just as well as he dishes it out.”

Hanzo grins with one side of his mouth; sharp and sardonic as he gets one arm around the width of Reaper’s chest and pulls him close, their pecs squishing together and rubbing as he lets Gabriel drag his hips closer by the grip he has on his ass.

He is whispering something back, but it is drowned in McCree’s deep groan and his drawled “That’s what I’m talkin’ about… that’s a sight for sore eyes, I tell ya.”

And they would look like they’re about to bite each other bloody and get their hands around the other’s throat; dark eyes gleaming maliciously and noses curled in barely suppressed snarls – only that they’re hard and McCree can’t stop from staring at their cocks bumping and nudging; practically snuggled up against each other, and oh they’re suddenly kissing.

It’s aggressive and wet; more tongue and teeth than anything else. 76 is shifting next to him from one foot to the next, blue eyes focused with laser intent on the proceedings; and when Reaper starts lapping blood off of Hanzo’s mouth with his serpent tongue, Jesse wonders vaguely what the fuck he’d gotten himself into.

.o.

McCree might have forgotten how scared shitless he’d been of his old commander. Yes. He might have forgotten the part where he’d gotten confused, painful boners whenever Reyes had chewed him out in front of everyone back in their Blackwatch days.

How he’d found himself on ops with a small puddle of cum cooling uncomfortably in his shorts just from his commander barking into his ear to ‘take the fucking shot, pendejo’ and how he’d never been quite sure if he was going to nut or piss his pants because Reyes was fucking hot but also scary.

He was even scarier now, crawling towards McCree with a grin on his face that was warping; stretching out farther and sharper than humanly possible, eyes alight with a hellish glint. He wondered how Morrison got it up, let alone stick his cock anywhere near this mass of focused evil.

He wondered why the fuck he was so hard it hurt when Reyes was nuzzling up against his cock, tongue snaking out long and scary and curling a couple times around his dick. It felt cool and slick. Jesse’d never been so conflicted about his desires.

Morrison next to him seemed to have no hangups. He was carding fingers through Hanzo’s hair, and humming beneath his breath, hips rocking forward, trying to nudge the head of his cock against the archer’s soft palate.

Hanzo was staring up at 76 – and for just a moment, McCree forgot about the eldritch horror suckling his cock, because he was transfixed by the sight and sound of Hanzo taking dick. Eyes dark and needy, spit slicking from the corner of his mouth in his eagerness to try and take it as deep as possible and still have the head somehow drag across his tongue.

His inattention immediately was punished by teeth testing their razor sharp edges against the sensitive flesh of his cock. Eyes bulging, he stared down into the pissy face of Reaper. He was growling and… and that wasn’t helping. Not when it was vibrating along McCree’s dick and making his eyes water and balls throb in painful arousal.

“Oh lord,” he whispered, hands curling into helpless fists. He wanted to touch but didn’t dare to. Reaper was one hell of a frightening power bottom. He wondered whether he’d go out with both hands still attached if he touched him anywhere that wasn’t allowed.

“Hey, McCree.” Morrison’s midwestern drawl made him turn his head back slowly, dumbly staring as 76 easily hooked his thumb into the corner of Hanzo’s mouth, breaking the tight, suckling seal the archer has had on him until now.

Hanzo groaned, eyes already glassy, letting his mouth get fucked idly by 76’s finger as he kept the unmoving cock warm. His lips were shiny with drool.

“How ‘bout you take better care of my boy. I’m sure he’ll thank you plenty.”

“I’m honestly not sure anymore…” Fuck, where had his bravado gone? Lost and never to be found somewhere between Reyes crawling towards him and getting his teeth on his cock in a fit of petty jealousy.

Hanzo’s head turned minimally, eyes slanting in cat-like satisfaction towards Reaper. His eyebrows twitched up and McCree thought he’d never seen so much pure smugness in such a little gesture.

Reyes’ face… honestly, McCree couldn’t even try to fathom what that expression meant. He winced when Reaper suddenly moved, hands twitching belatedly towards his cock to try and shield it from whatever outburst would follow now – only for Reyes to nuzzle his dick with almost desperate vigor, mouth soft and needy as he ducked down and licked Jesse’s balls with reverence.

“Oh,” he breathed, staring down and then towards Jack who nodded at him and clapped him on the shoulder.

“That’s right.”

“…oh.”

.o.

Jack wondered vaguely what Hanzo and Gabriel might be thinking; side by side, scrabbling at the sheets on the bed to try and steady themselves as they get deep dicked; big cocks spreading their soft, spongy insides apart and blunt, swollen heads nudging against those deep, never fully satisfied places.. He wonders if they even think anything beyond getting fucked – beyond trying to spread their legs farther and bounce back with more vigor; try taking cock deeper and better.

They are looking at each other, their cheeks pressed against the mattress like sleepy kittens, eyes feverish and glazed, mouths open and drooling.

There is no way they can sleep when they have cocks warming up their bellies from the inside.

McCree seems to have rediscovered his easy happy-go-lucky attitude. He has his left hand on Gabriel’s right hip and is riding him like a stallion, foot up on the edge of the bed and laying into Gabriel with sharp, overenthusiastic thrusts that smack loud and drive deep.

Gabriel – isn’t complaining. He is complacent like a pup, now that he finally gets what he’s always wanted: a cock splitting him open and someone rude enough to make him take it. He even has one hand on his ass, fingers clawing at the cheek as he pulls it to the side, trying to give better access. He can be so sweet and accommodating if he wants to.

Jack, for his part, feels almost drunk – or sick. His head feels hot and filled with cotton. His feet are tickling with pins and needles. Fucking Hanzo is like being on the brink of a seizure, and he doesn’t know if he could stop even if he wanted to.

The assassin is like silk around his cock – wet and clinging, insides moving in shivering little clenches that 76 couldn’t begin to wonder whether they were intentional or happy and nervous little spasms.

His back is sweat slick, muscles rippling, spine dipped into the most tantalizing little cup 76 had ever seen – he’s taking the force of his thrusts and just bounces back with a throaty gurgle and a roll of his shoulders.

He is muttering Japanese. Low, angry sounding hisses that couldn’t be anything but curses whenever the soldier’s cock slides against a particularly needy part.

When 76 reaches down, intent on getting his hand around that lovely, sleek cock he gets his hand batted away impatiently, dark liquid eyes staring at him over the swell of Hanzo’s shoulder.

“Let me come on your cock.” It’s a plea as much as it is a demand. His face is sweaty and flushed dark. He looks like he can barely breathe; as if the cock reaming him was not letting him get a good gulp of air in – and Jack had to admit, it was doing wonders for his ego.

“Damn, I love your ass. Always loved your fat, fuckin’ ass, Reyes.”

Jack’s attention swerved back to the side; to McCree’s almost maniacal grin as he suddenly stopped mid-fuck and pulled away to Gabriel’s unending dismay.

He was groaning, low and panicked, hands scrabbling backwards to try and have a grip at McCree’s hips, body starting to lose its form as he whines for the dick back; even asks with a sweet, surprisingly high voice – begs for Jesse McCree’s cock and doesn’t give a fuck that others can hear it because he’s deep down in his head and Jack doesn’t think he can think beyond a big, hard dick reaming him.

“Calm down. Jus’ turn around, will ya? Wanna get a look at your face when I finish off inside ya…”

Jack almost barks out a laugh with how frantically Gabriel starts scrabbling, before he settles on dissolving and reforming on the spot; knees falling open and slick abdominal muscles clenching.

McCree groans, hands stroking down the insides of Gabriel’s thighs and gripping big, rude handfuls of the thick muscle.

“You’re one scary motherfucker. But damn you’re a nice fuck when you got a dick inside ya.”

Jack snorts, one hand dragging down Hanzo’s spine in a slow, soothing pet. McCree looked like he was going to nut any second now, and he wasn’t feeling much better if he were quite honest.

He wondered how McCree would like a contest of who could make their pet come faster with a tongue in their sloppy, creamed holes.

Slanting a gaze over, McCree’s tongue was hanging out of his mouth, eyes fixed on the way Gabriel’s cock bobbed as he got fucked, hands on those wide, sturdy hips.

Yeah… McCree looked like he was up for anything.

Toys exist to get played with when one is bored.

Gabriel was often bored when there was no mission around; no target to eliminate.

Ergo, it was only logical that he acquired himself some toys to play with on his downtime. They were good toys, too. Durable. Flexible. Pathetic and needy.

He has his boots propped up on his window sill, eyes sliding lazily from the slits in the blinds towards McCree gasping on his narrow bed. Every now and then he jerks with an abrupt twitch, a high, reedy whine dragging out of his throat.

His face was as sweaty as the rest of his body. A good amount of it was plain and simple fear, even though his body was keyed up, his brainless cock bobbing hard and painful in the air whenever Reyes pressed the button again and watched his toy convulse on the sheets.

“Again,” he purrs. He doesn’t always give McCree a warning. Sometimes he just likes that short look of fear and resignation before another wave seizes the long body. McCree was still lanky as a boy. So young and tender. Only trying to grow into the massive size his chest promised he could be with enough discipline. (Reyes would be his discipline. The boy should fucking thank him on hands and knees and with his tongue on his boots.)

McCree can’t breathe for the long agonizing seconds that the electricity courses through his body, the muscles in his belly clenching and relaxing in sharp little bursts. The nodes were attached down his sensitive sides. (Reyes couldn’t wait for the moment he would burst into tears when his commander gently petted fingers down his ribs. Already, the boy was flinching away from these touches.)

The second Reyes’ thumb lifts from the button, McCree pulls in a sharp, gasping sob. Tears have been sliding down his temples and into his long, brown hair. He is sniveling and snotty, but his cock is still bouncing ridiculously up and down. He is not allowed to touch his dick – that, at least, he’d learned fairly quickly.

“Come here,” Reyes orders. Seeing McCree gasp for breath and cry like a bebé was only fun for so long. He watches McCree blink crusty eyes and wheeze as he tries to get his muscles under control and drag himself out of bed.

He crawls over on trembling arms and ducks automatically beneath Gabriel’s legs. Reyes grunts in acknowledgement and shifts his boots apart on the window sill and slides a little down in his chair to give McCree unhindered access.

“Having fun, little boy?” Reyes asks him, one hand in his shaggy hair to keep him away from just nose diving into his commander’s crotch.

McCree stares at him with blank eyes for a few moments before he blinks them clear. He slowly nods against the hold, jaw working like he wants to say something, but ultimately deciding against it.

Reyes laughs at him and lets go of his hair. He leans back into his chair with a sigh, eyes closing as McCree hungrily presses his face into his ass crack, mouth greedy and open as he presses it against his commander’s hole. Moments later, he tilts his head back and lets Reyes’ balls drag across his face with a low delirious groan.

Reyes is playing with the remote to the nodes in his hand. He knows McCree can see it out of the corners of his eyes. He likes keeping his toy on edge and guessing.

McCree and Reyes were so fucked up before the second rise of Overwatch :O only McCree kinda found his equilibrium back, it seems…


“McCree. Stay.”

Jesse winces and eyes his team mates as they file out of the showers hastily, leaving him alone with Commander Reyes. He tries to stand at attention, but he’s never been in the military, so he has no real idea of how to do it. He just makes sure to keep his back straight and tries to not look too self-conscious with just a towel around his waist and only one sock on.

Reyes stalks towards him; big and dangerous, still in his tactical gear from the training session they’ve just completed. His dark eyes give nothing away.

“You’ve got good aim,” he says, when he’s finally right up in Jesse’s face. Close enough that he can smell the sweat and feel his belly tighten in conflicting arousal. Reyes’ voice is low, almost a whisper, and Jesse hates himself for how warm the praise makes him feel.

“Sure, I-”

“How ‘bout you keep your fucking eyes on the target, then.”

Jesse’s stomach drops. He leans back and away from Reyes, as his face becomes hot with shame. Has he noticed-

“I don’t appreciate being watched.”

Yes. Yes, he noticed.

“Understood, Sir.”

“Hopefully.”

.o.

Jesse can’t leave well enough alone, can he?

He wants to say that it’s just because Reyes explicitly warned him not to do it. He wants to say that it’s just because he’s a bastard and he likes the thrill of the forbidden.

He knows it’s something else entirely, but he’d never go far enough to admit it to himself.

Instead, McCree finds himself loitering around base when he doesn’t have anything else to do. It’s not hard to find his boss, because he always was in spitting range of Morrison – and where Morrison was, recruits tended to flock.

Morrison was a likable kind of guy. Approachable and hard working. He gave off farmboy vibes, and McCree should’ve felt connected to him.

Instead, he could only stare at Reyes from beneath the brim of his hat, quickly ducking into shadows whenever he turned around, looking for the invisible gaze he could feel on his person.

It wasn’t that McCree wanted to make Reyes angry, per se – he just wanted… he wanted… 

Attention.

.o.

Jesse rounds the corner and abruptly stands still. He frowns as he stares down the corridor – no sign of Reyes. He could’ve sworn…

A heavy weight slams into his back and rams him against the wall. His vision is blurry from his forehead connecting with the concrete, and he can dimly feel a big hand on the back of his head before his face gets mashed into the wall.

“This is my last warning, McCree,” Reyes hisses into his ear. Jesse can smell whiskey on his breath; warm and familiar. It’s just as oppressive as the broad, unrelenting body pressing against his back – and he has the weirdest, most conflicted boner.

“I don’t know what you’re getting at – but you should stop your little game. I am… not amused.”

Reyes gives him one more little shove into the wall, but all Jesse feels is the short nudge of his Commander’s hips against his ass. Reyes leaves him standing in the corridor with a bruise slowly forming on his forehead, and his cock throbbing helplessly.

.o.

“Good shot.” The curt, almost grudging praise had come crackling over the com right in the middle of the training session, and fucked Jesse right up.

He absolutely botches the rest trying to show off for Reyes. In retaliation, Reyes did… nothing.

He just did nothing. Didn’t even fucking mention it. Didn’t cuff Jesse around the back of his head, or called him a good for nothing ingrate. He didn’t threaten to give him the boot and kick him back to Route 66 where he’d found him.

He just… did nothing, and Jesse didn’t understand why. It wasn’t like he wanted Reyes to be mad at him or hit him or…

… It was like that, if he was honest.

He wanted to get pushed around, he wanted to get noticed, he wanted – 

“You don’t know when to stop, do you… little boy.”

Reyes sounds almost conversational. It’s too late at night to stumble upon him on accident here in the shower rooms, and Jesse can just stand and helplessly stare from the shadow of one of the lockers. There’s nothing he could say now.

He’d watched his Commander work out in the gym; stemming weights and pounding dummies for hours on end, face a mask of rage and hate that slowly seemed to melt away into grim resignation.

He’d just stood in the corner and watched, hand in his crotch, squeezing the bulge of his cock, and coming up with strange, nonsensical scenarios of how he could approach his boss. Get on his knees and mash his face into his sweaty crotch. Suffocate himself on the big, uncut dick and let Reyes fuck his frustrations out into his throat in sharp, violent thrusts.

“Come here.”

Jesse does. He feels strangely weepy, alone with Reyes and with his cock hard and throbbing in his pants. He doesn’t know what’s going to happen and yet he hopes it will be horrible. He wants Reyes to hurt him and degrade him and insult him – just… just pay attention to him.

He has no idea how he ends up on one of the benches, with his Commander slowly lowering his ass right onto his face. His brain shorted out; he doesn’t know what happened to lead to this. He has the vague recollection of Reyes talking to him with a low, painfully calm voice. 

He sounded soothing. Like he understood. Like he knew exactly what was going on in McCree.

He sounded like a father.

“I know what you need,” he can hear Reyes’ voice from above him. Strong fingers are in his hair, keeping him just the way his Commander wants him to be, before everything gets dark and humid and suffocating.

He can feel the heaviness of Reyes’ testicles against his forehead seconds before he has to open his mouth on instinct and give his hole a broad lick.

Reyes is drenched in sweat, and Jesse digs his nose in just behind his humid balls because his Commander’s low, rattling groan at getting his sweaty ass licked by his protege makes him teary eyed again.

“Good. You’re doing good,” Reyes sighs above him, thick thighs bracketing Jesse’s head. The muscles flex with Reyes’ little, rocking motions – as he drags his ass across Jesse’s tongue – and it was fucking scary to have his head in between them.

Jesse could imagine Reyes being able to pop his head with those thighs if he just put his mind to it, and it just made him sob against his boss’ slick taint, and a trickle of cum soak into his boxers.

He was a freak and completely broken, but he was okay with it because he could mash his face into his boss’ fat ass and get complimented for doing such a great job.

“You can be a good boy if you want to,” Reyes muses above him. He sounds a little out of breath, voice a deep, rumbling growl, and tears spring to Jesse’s eyes because he thinks I did that. I.

Reyes drags his cock unabashedly across Jesse’s face as he rides him; smears his low hanging, ripe balls right across his closed eyelids, and presses down with his weight to have him gasp for breath.

Reyes was a fucking bastard and Jesse was dumb enough to lap it right up, and thank him for the privilege of getting suffocated by his ass.

“I know exactly how to make it stop hurting.” Reyes dark voice is an insidious whisper that goes right to Jesse’s core and makes him try and press his tongue past the tight muscle he had been worshiping with kisses and licks.

“Say it, little boy. Maybe I will let you come, too. Just say it.”

Jesse squeezes his eyes shut tighter. His scalp was burning with Reyes’ unrelenting fingers tearing at his too long hair. His body was a bow strung too tight, and he was scared what might happen when he finally snapped.

Say it, Jesse.”

And maybe it was the sharp tug on his hair, or the insistent downward grind of Reyes’ hips – or the fact that he’d called him Jesse…

He had no idea what he was supposed to say until he actually did. It just tumbled out of his mouth, groaned against Reyes’ sweaty, gorgeous ass, with Jesse’s cock confusedly drooling little dribbles of cum into his underwear.

Daddy.”

Reyes laughed at him.

yo yo yooooo @abakkus


“You want to eat him out, don’t you?” Jack was crouching closely behind Reaper, one hand curled around his throat, thumb rubbing along the edge of the collar he was wearing. His other arm was slung around Reaper’s waist, giving him his too loose fist to fuck into.

Reaper’s head fell back against his shoulder with a low groan, hips jerking into Jack’s hand.

“Yessss….”

“You’ll have to lose your mask for that.” Jack’s voice was gentle, but resolute. He’d not let Reaper get away with it.

When Reaper hesitates, breath audibly hitching, Jack’s eyes travel towards McCree who is decadently spread out before them and lazily jerking off to the sight of Reaper being torn between keeping his last shield, and getting his face between his hairy cheeks.

“I think he’ll need a little more incentive. How about you give ‘im a little show?”

McCree grins sharp, and lopsided. He’s not having a cigar in the corner of his mouth but he’s still compensating for it anyway. It makes him look idiotic and endearing at the same time.

Jesse has no hangups with being lewd. He shifts and hooks his hands beneath his knees to pull them up and apart, before he thinks better of it and lets go with one to reach down to his ass.

Jack watches as McCree pulls one cheek to the side, showing them his hole. When he slides his fingers further in so he can circle it slow and steady, Reaper makes a sound like a kicked dog.

“Looks tasty, doesn’t it?” McCree laughs and lets go of his other leg as well so he can pinch his own nipple and tug on his chest hair. He’s still a fucking kid when compared to them, but he’s filling his role admirably. Reaper moves against Jack’s restraining hands; a wall of solid, shockingly cool muscle.

Jack curses low and grips him tighter, the line of his dick slowly, tantalizingly sliding along Reaper’s ass crack.

“Your mask, Gabriel,” Jack warns – and just like that, Reaper is Gabriel. He growls and sounds pissy and impatient, his hand fumbling with the straps and ripping it violently from his face.

He surges forwards once more, and this time Jack lets him go.

“Holy shit!” McCree shouts and laughs at the same time, one hand curled tightly into Gabriel’s dark, short curls, holding on for dear life as Reyes presses his face between his cheeks with what could only be described as the groan of a starving man.

Jack moves to the side, watching as Gabriel noses Jesse’s balls out of the way before he couldn’t be bothered anymore and just lets them rub across the bridge of his nose because he’s too busy sucking and licking at McCree’s hole.

“Help him,” Jack orders, voice hoarse and as authoritative as it was on the battlefield. Jesse obeys without thinking – reaches for his junk and holds it out of the way while he rides Gabriel’s enthusiasm out.

His eyes are glassy and his mouth dropped open in an ‘o’ of dumb surprise.

Gabriel, for his part, is single minded and greedy. He’s licking and sucking; getting the space between Jesse’s cheeks wet with spit as he presses his face in further and further, as if he’s trying to smother himself in McCree’s ass.

Jack feels stupidly fond as he lets a hand slowly slide along Gabriel’s spine and lovingly taps two fingers against his hole. He notes how Gabriel lifts his ass into the touch and it makes Jack feel warm in his belly.

“There you go. And when you’re done with him, I want a go as well. I’m gonna sit on your face if you want to. Do you want to?” 

He hooks fingers into the back of Gabriel’s collar and pulls – but Gabriel fights against the drag, so he wouldn’t get dislodged from his perch. Jack still can hear the embarrassingly high whine of eagerness.

Jesse grins like he’s high, hand just holding onto his junk; he looks like he forgot to jerk himself off, and is just enjoying the ride for the moment.

Jack can’t wait for his turn.

spartadog:

The 6′1 Club

Reaper considers combat foreplay. He fights his prospective partners every time someone wants to get frisky. If he wins, which is most of the time, he gets to top. But if he loses, he’s the most enthusiastic sub you can imagine and melts into a gasping mess of breathless moaning. And it seems 76 and McCree got the better of him this time around.

Must be 6’1 to ride.

Reaper, Soldier: 76, McCree © Blizzard Entertainment
Art © SpartaDog
Please do not repost without permission or remove/edit the caption.

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