Alright ya’ll. @robotfvckers and I were really needing some Reapzenji fix (it actually started as feral!76 with Genyatta but kind of… morphed…)

and it is uh… I feel like it went p well ngl :O

we did have a few pics that def influenced Zenyatta’s Talon design so please look into them :3

Link 1

Link 2

Link 3

Link 4

Last but not least: it might end a bit abruptly but we also might be… uh… thinking of… a sequel…

---

Zenyatta has never been allowed on such a
big scale mission before and he supposed it might be a sign that they were
trusting him a little more after all, but the reality of the situation was that
he still wore his correction collar and was assigned a superior which he had to
follow while the mission lasted. 

Still, it had been…enjoyable for the duration, his every move carefully
calculated to not upset his supervisor. The shocks of the collar were seldom
enough to offline his systems but he was not tempted to try his fate.

He was tucked away in a corner of the ship’s hangar on their way back, sensors
scanning his surroundings in short, exhausting intervals to keep the rest of
the crew monitored. There was a certain kind of restlessness spreading throughout
the ranks, fuelled by the mission’s success and the unexpected
light-heartedness Genji brought to the table.

Zenyatta watched as the cyborg’s well-formed silhouette climbed along the
ceiling like a spider, his scarf hanging low enough for some of the other
agents to try and snatch at it. It was a stupid game, but one Zenyatta
appreciated; it meant there was little time for the weird mood to grow into
something more sinister and volatile.

Still, he could feel the occasional glance thrown his way; sensors picking up
on the hormones wafting into the air like smog, and his treacherous body…it
responded.

He kept carefully still, the lights on his
forehead dimmed, seemingly charging as he felt into his processes, the
mechanisms of his new parts warming up and lubricating themselves a routine by
now – one which he could not delete.

His body was only in name his, after all; so many programs installed to
overwrite most of his own will, and only part of the violation he has
experienced under Talon’s thumb.

He can feel his cunt throb, fans gently kicking in to filter in the hormone
ridden air and cool him down at the same time. He could feel his synthetic clit
swelling, systems telling him he was aroused already. Zenyatta kept his head
low, staring at his feet; new as well, more detailed and made pretty to be
aesthetically pleasing for the humans around him.

He bides his time until the ship touches carefully down on the ground.

There are protocols he must abide to, and
they’re a blessing as much as a curse. While the rest of the agents file into
the hangar, he stays to get inspected. His collar is scanned once more, making
sure it sustained no damage throughout the fight.

His internal systems get scanned made sure he hasn’t been hacked, and it feels
even more of a violation than his forced bodily modifications. Still, when one
of the two agents murmurs “Good cunt,” his pussy throbs as if eager
for the compliment, and Zenyatta wonders whether the dark of his silky pants
was already starting to wet through.

He bolts the moment a grudging clear is given, and pretends he doesn’t feel the
clumsy hand gripping for his wrist or hears the soft command to stay a little
longer. Be a little sweet on the soldier after the big mission. There is enough
noise going on in the hangar to make an accidental overhearing feasible; to not
kick his new programs on that made him be a lapdog to Talon’s wishes.

Still, he feels followed as he makes his way through the area, quick and
carefully twisting around waiting agents.

It’s dangerous to stay still for more than
a few moments, but perhaps equally as such when he files out of the hangar and
into the cramped hallway leading towards the dorms. It’s here where he is
accosted most often, trying to reach the safety of the closet-sized room
serving as his quarters.

Hungry eyes. Hungry hands. Against the wall, sequestered into the locker room.
Used. It hurts; there is no kindness to be found in this place, though his body
aches for it. The greedy press of thick, rough fingers against his new parts,
shoving inside with little care. Fucking him so hard he can’t adjust, not
fully, swollen and needy with it when they fill him up all too soon, leaving
him wanting. For what, he could not say. He used to fight against it, but the
collar swiftly overwhelms his protocols, sending enough of him offline to
reboot trapped beneath one talon operative or another.

The smell of humans, sweat, adrenaline, smoke and arousal intensifies, twisting
his alien guts. The hallway splits up ahead, left towards the locker rooms and
the right his own sanctuary. He quickens his pace, but the operatives are
packed tight, start to notice the squirming bot as he weaves as inconspicuously
as he can through the crowd.  A hand brushes down his spine, another cups
the swell of his ass, squeezing tight before he skirts out of reach. Zenyatta
manages to quell the small sound threatening to escape him, processors reacting
to stimuli so easily now. To others’ desires.

“Hey, don’t leave.” A voice
grumbles from behind, nameless and unfamiliar. Zenyatta spots an opening along
the wall, calculating the risks before he slips into the space. Putting himself
at the wall could be dangerous. Every second that passes he expects the
telltale jolt of his collar, and he thanks the Iris that no higher-ups with
control have spotted him.

A hand locks around his wrist, huge and firm, yanking him backwards. Zenyatta
bumps into two other operatives, who growl but continue on, uninterested in his
plight. Someone tugs his hood, sensors adjusting to the added light as he’s
exposed. Lips whisper at his neck, too warm and calloused.

“Show me your cunt, omnic.” Someone says, hand slipping between his
new, smooth thighs, cupping the swollen space between them. A burst of static
escapes as pleasure signals pour through his processes. “I still remember
how greedily you clenched around me. All that complaining, but you loved taking
my cock, didn’t you, slut?”

Zenyatta knows the voice, remembers the person, remembers, and the first
trickle of slick pulses out of him, unbidden. He slams a bound foot down on the
man’s boot, startling him enough to connect his metal elbow to his chin. The
operative roars behind him, more eyes, more faces find him, and Zenyatta gives
up all pretense and breaks into a stilted run, angling towards the first door
he sees. He processes the hiss of the door sliding open, muffled by the rising
din of the operatives behind him, their fingers skimming over his clothes,
grasping and almost gripping him, yanking him back.

Zen is nearly inside when the first shock
fires through his body, lightning quick and undeniable. His glitching fingers
manage to hit the lock button before he pitches to the ground, voice box going
haywire, pained little pops of noise as he twitches on the floor. The shocks
disrupt everything, his body confused and sending back error signals by the
handful. His cunt throbs, more slick than requested wetting the fabric of his
pants, he tries to clench his thighs together but he can only squirm until the
aftershocks pass.

Seconds tick by, and he returns to himself. Hear the pounding of the door and
the rustling of something else. Twitching, he drags his head up.

Two beings stare at him from a few feet away, locked in each other’s arms. He
has never seen Genji without his faceplate on; nor his human face, pale and
scarred with pink, kiss-swollen lips. The other wavers in his optics, dark
ashen skin, red eyes. Large, white teeth, black facial hair. He doesn’t know
this…humanoid, though the outfit is familiar. He’s still staring at the
larger man’s lips when a long tongue darts out to wet them, his eyes drawing to
half-mast. The smell of arousal spikes, and Zen moans, quiet but abrupt.

A litany of swears and abuse shake the door, rattling it on its frame.

“P-please.” Zenyatta bites out, voice popping, still recovering.
“Claim me.”

The calculations had been done quick and
precise despite the screaming of his sensors and his glitching visuals. Genji
always has been… kinder, than the others. He, too, had cheeky wandering hands
that liked to slip where they had no business of being, but their grasp was
softer, well modulated—designed to make Zenyatta gush for him.

He was a prankster, but Zenyatta had yet to be part of his jokes.

He also was…half machine. Achingly familiar.

He did not know the other person, could barely make him out with his visual
sensors resetting, but the decision seemed sound, his checks coming back green.

“Please,” he begs again, fingers curling against the floor as he
sways on all fours but manages to stay upright. The pounding from behind
vibrates through the ground and makes his sensors shiver, firing strange,
confused signals all through his systems. His cunt pulses, swollen and ready,
synthetic clit primed so much for intercourse it is practically vibrating.

“What are you doing here?” Genji sounds confused and mildly amused.
Zenyatta feels arms curling around his shoulders as he’s getting pulled up,
then finally his visual sensors come back online.

“It is obvious what he’s doing here,
is it not?”

The voice of the other man was sinuous and deep—and familiar, even if the dark
figure was not. Reaper. Zenyatta had never even…

“The little whore is fleeing from a bunch of greedy cocks.”

Genji clicks his tongue, eyes roaming over Zenyatta’s form. He looks unfamiliar
without his visor. Less mechanical and comforting, yet when he starts slowly
pushing Zenyatta’s cloak from around his shoulders to better see his form, his
cunt readies itself all the same.

“They are ready for the celebration,” the cyborg purrs. Zenyatta’s
sensors pick up on the vibration of his voice, low and aroused. He can see the
crimson tint to his lips. They had been… They had been kissing, standing
close, grinding their bodies together…? He had been…

Zenyatta turns his head, looks around the room he stumbled into. It looks like
someone’s quarters. When he focuses back forward, his systems spike with
readings: Reaper is suddenly closer; close enough to see the blood red of his
eyes.

“I’ve never had him,” he purrs, watching Zenyatta carefully. “Is
he any good?”

“The men seem to think so,” Genji answers, and then adds with a
certain kind of defiance, as if there weren’t still men banging at the door
behind them: “I think he’s cute.”

“Do you now…” Reaper slides even closer, arm stretching, sharp
talons barely scraping in the imitation of a caress along the side of
Zenyatta’s faceplate.

“I have to admit…he interests me…”

Zenyatta presses forward into Genji’s
touch, voice lowering into a well modulated murmur. “I will not forget
your kindness, if you indulge me. Please, I—”

He sees the smile on Genji’s face—but also the impatient frown on Reaper’s, and
he knows who he has to convince here.

“I need it so
bad. Need your cocks, I… please.” He is not good at this; has not been
equipped with any databanks on how to… to dirty talk, and he thinks it might
just have been one more cruelty on top of so many: leaving him bumbling and
foolish as he asks for his defilement.

Reaper snorts, sharp claws wandering beneath Zenyatta’s chin, making him tip
his head back and expose the vital cables and metal making up his main energy
conduit throughout his body.

“I will take care of the ruckus outside…and then I want to see what he
can do.”

The pressure at his
throat disappears. Zenyatta’s sensors flicker as Reaper softens suddenly, smoke
where once stood a man, sweeping through his circuits in a strange, fluttering
sensation, soft, whispering caresses. He shutters, body reacting to even that
slight stimuli. Genji stares over his shoulder at the door, lips quirked, eyes
alight with interest. The pounding stops, voices drop off, grow loud again. He
hears Reaper talking, gravel rough. Then yelling, shuffling. The door groans as
something heavy crashes into it.  Screams.

“Hey.” Genji says, catching his attention again. This close, Zenyatta
can see flecks of green in his dark eyes. Genji runs his hands along the cables
of Zen’s neck, trailing his fingers along the pistons and down to his
shoulders, brushing sensitive nodes. Zenyatta shakes, trying to stand still and
chirping at the gentle touch. “We are going to take care of you.” He
murmurs, lips catching against the edge of his gold faceplate.

Genji tugs slow and even at the drawstring holding Zen’s cloak, and it drops to
the floor with a soft ripple. The man’s eyes covet the lines of his body,
pupils growing large. Zen’s pants are flattened to his plating, slimy with
slick. His modesty panel had been stripped from him with his upgrades, the
swollen mound of his cunt outlined against the cut of fabric. Genji whistles
low and sweet, cheeks darkening.

“Wow, you really are easy, aren’t you?” Genji doesn’t cup him like
the others, rough and mean. A smooth, cybernetic finger trails down the top of
his lower plating, touching his—

Zenyatta groans, startled, back hitting the door. Genji follows him, hand
finding his swollen clit again, a small press, then slipping against the ruined
fabric, lower, finger pressing lengthwise against the wetness between his legs.
He says something in a language Zenyatta doesn’t understand, worries his lower
lip.

“Sensitive.”

It grows quiet outside,
and Genji licks his lips. He steps back as smoke billows in from beneath the
door, licks the remnants of Zenyatta’s slick from his fingers while Zenyatta
curls his own hands into the metal behind him, fasciated without knowing why.

Reaper reforms, seated on the bed, larger, his sensors report, than he was
before. Eyes glowing bright, pulse strong and even. More alive. Genji follows
him in short order, sitting astride him, curls his hand inside Reaper’s thigh,
the cut of his muscles noticeable even through his clothes. Reaper stares
Zenyatta down, eyes tracing his body as Genji’s had. His smirk is all smoke and
teeth, practically purring when he says.

“What are waiting for? Strip.” Reaper adjusts, settling more
comfortably. “We’re doing you a favor, after all.”

Zenyatta jerks, light alignment flaring. He glances to Genji, whose hand trails
closer to the front of Reaper’s pants, teasing and nimble, but he offers no
help.

“I…” He nods, numbly, hands struggling to unknot the ties that keep
his loose pants in place. Reaper sighs, frustrated, the noise speeding Zen’s
hands. Knots undone, he’s forced to peel the fabric down from his thighs, tacky
with lubricant. He stumbles a little as he steps out of his pants, leg
wrappings bound over the fabric.  He can feel them staring, heart rates
quickening, arousal elevated. Shame burns along his chassis, but he keeps his
hands clenched at his sides, finally looking up.

“Dios mio, come closer. Where did they even find a thing like you?
Got you fitted with Numbani-grade parts but you don’t even know what you’re
doing.”

Zenyatta bristles, keens when a fresh line of slick spills down his legs,
almost toppling him over. He finally stumbles to the foot of the bed, and even
though he has to look down at them he feels small, helpless.

“Ah, what a cute
color. Let us see.” Genji whispers, eyes staring at his groin, hand
kneading at Reaper’s cock, the barest outline of it growing thick and
noticeable beneath the fabric.

Zenyatta struggles to spread his legs and stand upright at the same time,
quaking. Soft little hummed whimpers hiccup out of him. Why won’t they just
touch him?

“I still can’t see.” Genji pouts. “Spread it open with your
hand.” Reaper leans back against Genji, pressing slightly into his touch,
eyes never leaving the omnic.

Zenyatta splits his
fore and middle fingers, slotting them against the teal lips of his pussy, and
even that has him gasping softly, dragging in air he doesn’t need, pheromones
in the room heightened. His fans whirr in the relative quiet. His pretty lips
part beneath his hands, so silken soft and slick. His tilts his head down
 into the crook of his shoulder, ashamed, looking unwilling but he’s
twitching and dripping more than he ever has. Why would they program him with
shame and desire in equal parts, buzzing along every sensor?

Genji makes a soft
sound of appreciation that hums along his sensors and makes new need shudder
through his circuits. His clit is pulsing, feeling almost obnoxiously swollen
and exposed between the V of his fingers. There is slick everywhere, stretching
in glistening faintly teal-tinged strings between the soft fiber lips of his
cunt, and—as they watch—dripping down towards the ground.

“Messy,” Reaper comments. It sounds simultaneously like praise and an
insult, and Zenyatta can only produce a pathetic static crackle in response,
his programs alighting his visuals like a Christmas tree with all kinds of
information; from the body heat of his potential two lovers to the saturation
of hormones in the air.

It is hard to make out the important stuff in between—like Genji beckoning him
closer and telling him to crawl onto the bed; show them from up close his
“pretty holes”; Reaper’s added “Sloppy holes” low and rough
as he grinds up more insistently into Genji’s hand.

Zenyatta’s movements are jerky as he crawls onto the mattress. He can feel the
mechanisms of his cunt working: tightening up and expanding, getting ready to
clutch silky and wet around anything that might be given to him.

Reaper and Genji are
kissing while he adjusts his position, tries to wrangle his limbs to comply
with what he wants.

It is languid and slow. His sensors pick up soft, wet suckling sounds as Reaper
starts pressing his lips against the corner of Genji’s mouth and coaxes him to
stop staring at Zenyatta and pay some attention to him. He feels on the verge
of a shutdown as he watches them, the visual frizzing out every now as he sees
Reaper dominate the kiss, clawed hand at Genji’s augmented jaw, keeping him in
position but not meanly so.

His sensors pick up on the visual: make his clit thrum with the faux sensation
of those warm, soft human lips on his sensors. His head falls back on a
crackling, static moan—he is sitting and leaning back, legs spread…and hand
already between his thighs again, opening himself up without having been told,
but also closing again…and again…the sensation vaguely stimulating his clit
and making his systems heat until his fans have to kick in and cool him down.

“Naughty little thing,” Genji purrs. He’s closer suddenly, perched
like a tiger between Zenyatta’s legs, hands on his knees—keeping him open.
“Are you just having fun for yourself? Touching your slutty cunt like
that…So pretty, so…oh—what’s this?”

His voice is gentle, teasing, the insults sounding more like praise. Zenyatta,
hand snatched away from his pussy, watches as Genji reaches out, blunt
cybernetic fingertip moving, circling the small teal lined posterior hole. It
is easy to slip inside, wriggling against the clinging, silky walls with the
help of all of the slick that had started sliding down along Zenyatta’s
chassis.

He chirps high and a little glitched as he feels the intrusion, body going
stiff, carefully held still as Genji coos and fingers him.

“Such a sweet little hole you have back here…now why would they give
that to you? You’re a proper little whore, aren’t you?”

Reaper is behind
Genji, towering and dark, looking so impossibly thick after his short foray
outside the room.

“Well now it is getting…interesting,” he purrs and slides around to
come closer, get a look at their toy for the night.

“He’s so soft inside. Damn. So small back here…I don’t think you’d even
fit.”

Reaper snorts in derision, the sharp taloned glove vanishing in a plume of
smoke as his thick arm reaches to where Genji is slowly fucking a slim
cybernetic finger into Zenyatta and making his vision flicker. “Let me
see…”

Zenyatta groans
uncertainly, the sensations strange, electric. His hips stutter, and he bears
down on the finger, earning him a small word of praise from Genji, who curls
his digit, brushes against something inside that makes him thrash. Zenyatta
hums, high and needy.

“Just need to be touched, don’t you?” Reaper whispers, fingers
tracing the mesh skin between his plating, just circling that swollen teal nub.
Zenyatta surges, trying to angle his hips to catch his fingers against it.

“P-please.” Zenyatta moans when one thick arm presses on the cables
across his narrow hips, pinning him to the mattress.

“Such a demanding thing. Aren’t you supposed to be the one pleasuring
us?” Reaper replies, still teasing around his folds, fingers skirting the
pulsing, dripping slit, watching it clench as Genji slips a second finger into
that smaller, lower hole.

Zenyatta wants to protest, feels stuffed, but his body recalibrates, adjusts to
it, the slick burn of the intrusion eased and hot, firing pleasure up the
cables at his spine. Close to something. Small runtime errors, processes
bugging. His fingers twist into the sheets, struggling against the arm pinning
him.

“Wh—something
is…w-wait..!!” His synthesizer can’t make his words sound right, all
other processes bogged down with reading and reacting to the pleasure firing
through him.

“I have watched the men take you before.” Genji says, eyes narrowed
with lust. “Do you know what is about to happen?” He presses his
fingers in deep, curling them, nearly too hard against that incredibly
sensitive node inside him, making Zenyatta strain, snapping his hips to get
more of it. The cyborg smiles, wicked and sharp. “You are about to come,
Zenyatta. No one has ever touched you with a gentle hand.” He bites his
lip. “I bet you could come just like this, from my fingers in your
ass.” Genji groans, keyed up just at the thought of it.

“You sure like to hear yourself talk.” Reaper growls. “Why don’t
you put that mouth to better use, cabrón?” Reaper takes his teasing
hand and sinks his fingers around the back of Genji’s skull, pressing the
cyborg’s face between Zenyatta’s legs.

Genji makes an
undignified noise that bleeds into a moan when his lips smack into Zenyatta’s
slit, warm and wet. His tongue darts out, eager and quick, tasting the teal
mess, amazed by the buttery softness of it, the vague, near tasteless sweetness
of him. Zenyatta shouts, hand clapping over his voice box to stifle the keens
ripped from his throat. He hears himself begging in a mindless barrage of
slurred, glitching words, his hand clamping on top of Reaper’s, wanting it,
something peaking—

Genji finally, mercifully flicks his tongue across his clit, feels molten hot
and wet and so good, then descends on it, moans vibrating against his most
sensitive node, sucking around it in soft little pulls and Zenyatta’’s
thrusting as much as he can and pressing Genji down.

His voice box offlines halfway through his screams as something rips through
him, unbelievable and inescapable, sending all his protocols into chaos. His
cunt clenches, pulsing out hot waves of slick, catching Genji’s chin, the line
of his throat. Zenyatta’s whole body shakes with it, squeezes around the
fingers still pistoning inside him. His sensory array shuts down for a few
moments, and he hears Reaper’s rough “Oh, fuck” as he begins
to recover.

His sensors pick up
on the burned ozone in the air. He wonders what has short circuited inside his
systems but he couldn’t start and try to run a check when the sight between his
thighs makes him stutter and halt, a glitched little trilling sound, distinctly
questioning chirping from his struggling voice box.

His programs slowly, haltingly start back up again, saturating the black and
white feed he has almost reluctantly with color. Genji is still between his
thighs, nose nearly brushing the mess of his cunt. Reaper has straddled one of
his thighs to better get close, cock out of his hastily opened pants, broad
hips rocking carefully to drag the thick shaft along Genji’s reverently opened
mouth.

“He got me so messy,” the cyborg groans indistinct, lips
mouthing at the veiny shaft, turning his head and smearing the slick Zenyatta
had coated him with against Reaper’s cock.

Zenyatta makes a soft sound, almost wondering, fingers curling against the
bedding. His sensors are still prickling with the sensation that had him almost
offline. His clit is pulsing still. Needy. Ripe. Another feed comes back online
and suddenly he becomes aware of the cheeky tongue flicking against his folds
every now and then, Genji turning his head, languidly suckling at his folds.

“Bet he comes
even better on a nice cock,” Reaper growls, hips moving, fucking forward
against Genji’s mouth before he probably gets fed up with the half-hearted blow
job and Genji’s preoccupation with Zenyatta’s cunt. He grips a fist full of the
cyborg’s hair, shoving his head to the side so he can slot himself in, hips
moving, fucking, sliding the thick ash gray shaft along Zenyatta’s swollen,
messy folds.

The omnic jerks, startled, hands fluttering down between his thighs seemingly
uncertain of what to do before he settles on folding them across Reaper’s cock
and pressing it against himself, letting him coat his shaft with slick while
little sizzling spikes of pleasure shoot up his spine.

Reaper is massive between his thighs, large hands on Zenyatta’s knees, pressing
them apart as he fucks languidly, almost as an afterthought. His armor is
peeled apart enough that he can see the plane of his belly tensing and rippling
whenever he curls his hips forward.

He seems happy enough to let Zenyatta cradle his dick and give him a tunnel to
fuck into, but his words are amused and disparaging.

“Fuck, you are
bad at this. Don’t even know how to handle a nice cock when you get one offered
on a silver platter. What did those bastards do with you?”

Genji is close, his face peering around Reaper’s hips, cheeks tinted dark as he
watches.

“Just laid him
down and fucked into him,” he comments, voice rough—aroused, Zenyatta’s
sensors tell him, and he makes a needy sound, face turning towards the cyborg.

“Please,” he says, seemingly the only word that he was capable of
anymore: mindlessly begging for them to…to please him. His fingers start
curling a little, folding tighter around Reaper’s girth; assessing for the
first time, wondering how it might feel…

“Pumped him full and left him dripping,” the cyborg continues like
Zenyatta hadn’t said anything. “Even though he got so nice and hot for
them. Frenzy little fuck on any cock that would come by…”

Genji’s eyes get glassy. He is moving a little, rocking, and Zenyatta thinks
with a soft, startled noise that he’s fucking his cock against the bed; aroused
by what is happening. He is suddenly pushing against Reaper’s hips, impatient,
voice trembling.

“I wanna make him cum again. Fuck. He goddamn squirted,
Gabriel…”

Reaper makes a soft disgusted sound. He seems reluctant but moves away all the
same, laughing when Zenyatta chirps, body curling up and towards him, trying to
keep a grasp on his cock.

“Fast learner, are you? Gonna teach you to worship a cock properly,
yet…On your knees.” Reaper says, strokes his own cock once, gritting his
sharp teeth, watching Zenyatta struggle to turn over, the pool of slick on the
bed catching his legs, smearing it everywhere.  "Head down. Make
yourself pretty.“ Zenyatta groans, presses his face into his forearms.

The words burn, cunt twitching at the filthiness of them. One of the worst
things about his containment, Talon’s adaptive programming, new processes
designed to destroy themselves at a human’s command. Someone inhales sharply,
Genji, he assumes. He feels a line of wetness drip out of him, stretching until
it plips into the sheets, joining the ruined mess there. Even at the
lowest setting his sensors detect the intense, human smell in the air, of sex
and sweat, heady and sweet.

A sudden hot swipe at his cunt has Zen pitched forward, fingers twitching
against the sheets. Tongue. Genji’s tongue, the reverent, fucked out moan makes
it an easy guess. Genji surges forward, tongue dipping deep into his wet slit,
and Zenyatta growls, wants more, shifts back against it.

"M-more.” He whispers, crackling.

“What’s that?” Reaper’s voice comes from his side, way closer than it
should be. Zen tilts his head, another moan escaping. The man’s eyes are blown
black, eyebrows drawn tight, always looking off-put, but there’s undeniable heat,
like Zen is worth looking at, worth teasing and toying with, worth pleasuring.
“Speak up.”

Genji’s tongue flattens inside him, a finger slipping in along with it,
thrusting so shallowly,  dipping in only to circle his folds again, being
so gentle.

“More. Harder. Please—!” For the first time in his life, Zenyatta
would ask for it and speak true. He wants them to fuck him.

Reaper’s fucking into
his hand in fluid  snaps of his scarred, muscled hips, pearls of precum
bubbling from the tip of his throbbing cock.  "Yeah, look at
me.“ Zen half turns his body, face fully angled to stare along the lines
of Reaper’s body, half-clothed but undeniably hot. He hesitates, tries to
gather his thoughts enough to speak, fear spiking through him at his own gall.

"I—ah! Want to see you…” He almost buries his head again, afraid.
He does look down, bristling when Reaper laughs, low and dark like smoke.

“You got some balls for a omnic. Did I say you could look away? Look at
me.” The bed shakes behind him, and loud, muffled moans join his own
glitched chirrups. Genji rocking into the bed. Zenyatta stares at Reaper,
captivated by the dark, ashen skin as it’s revealed; Genji works two more
fingers in at once, tongue pulling out with a thick pop before it dips into his
posterior hole, licking it open so easily. He’s speaking, babbling against
Zenyatta’s holes, broken and quick. It doesn’t sound like english.

“Heh, you two aren’t so different. Look how slutty he gets.” Reaper
grunts, peeling out of the last of his armor, hand returning to his dripping
cock and working it just behind the glans. Reaper moans, closing his eyes once
before refocusing on Zen’s face, head tilting.

“I wonder…” Zenyatta nearly jerks at the even press of hands
cupping his head, feeling another orgasm sizzling along his plating. Something
clicks, depressurizes, and the lower panels of his faceplate shifts up.
New processes register, sensation blooming beneath his array, coming online.
“Hah, I can’t believe it. Oh, fuck, they really didn’t spare any
cost, did they?”

Zenyatta opens his
mouth for the first time, the feeling so alien he can’t register his readings.

“They even
installed skin-mesh around it.” Reaper whistles low. Rough, calloused
fingers stroke along the metallic-colored mesh and the smooth, matching lips.
Zenyatta reacts to the stimuli, mouth twitching into a small o, learning
how to move it. Then the finger, a thumb, dips inside, new sensation. Salty.
Bitter. Zenyatta flinches, reels back, but Reaper holds his face gently in his
grip.

“T-too much. What is—” Zenyatta’s lips don’t match his words, still
warbling from his voice box instead, seemingly detached from one another. His
whole body trembles, pleasure lessening somewhat as Genji drags his tongue away
to look at them both, fingers still scissoring inside him.

A litany of swears spills from the cyborg as he watches Reaper’s fingers
circling Zenyatta’s mouth, wettened by the same slick coating his own lips.

“Kuso. I
need to see this.”

Genji’s fingers slide out of the warm, welcoming grip of Zenyatta’s cunt with a
wet slide, gooey slick stretching between fingertips and plump folds until the
strings break. The opening gapes open soft and inviting for just a moment
before the mechanisms make it close up under the cyborg’s heated gaze—getting
everything nice and snug once more.

“Goddamn, but you have pretty holes,” he purrs, crawling around the
trembling Omnic to kneel at the head and see for himself.

Zenyatta looks at the both of them helplessly, the new program that flickered to
life forcing all the other ones to adjust and recalibrate. He hadn’t even…he
hadn’t known…

He can feel Reaper’s thumb rubbing along the carefully blunted tops of even
teeth, pressing down on them and feeling the minimal give of the synthetic
fabric—all for the pleasure of his users.

“Look at this. Even gave him a pretty little tongue,” Reaper purrs,
reaching in with two thick fingers and easily fishing out Zenyatta’s tongue:
segmented in small parts to allow articulated movement and glowing a soft teal.
It’s slimy like the rest of his holes and when Reaper squishes it gently
between his pinching fingers, they can watch more slick well up from between
the segments.

Genji’s mouth hangs open, hand around his synthetic cock, strangling it within
the grip of his fist.

“That’s…incredible… I’ve never seen…I didn’t even know there
was…”

Reaper seems to perk up at that, letting go of Zenyatta’s tongue to negligently
wipe the excess slick against his cheek.

“So you haven’t seen anybody using that yet?”

Zenyatta’s fingers
twist into the bedding, clawing at it as he tries to understand all the
readings popping up in his peripheral vision. He knows his tongue is still out,
obediently stretched across his lower lip, showing it to his two play mates, but
he couldn’t make himself close it up.

He was moving his…his jaw and even those new sensations, moving little joints
he hadn’t even known existed, had him shuddering, everything getting translated
to good yes thank you.

“Look at him. He’s helpless like a babe,” Reaper purrs. His large
hand cups the back of Zenyatta’s cranium. He lifts up unto his knees, bringing
his hips closer to the Omnic and starts rubbing the blunt tip of his cock
against the soft mesh that made up Zenyatta’s cheek, slipping again and again
against the very corner of his mouth but not slipping inside.

Zenyatta chirps, the sound embarrassingly like one of those ancient modems as
his new mouth eagerly fills with slick—a little thinner than the one from his
cunt but not less eager.

“That’s it. You want my cock, don’t you? Messy little bitch…”

Zenyatta angles forward, body posed on the precarious edge of toppling over,
jaw opening a bit wider, needy. Pleading.

Reaper’s cock moves at that, presses into the little soft groove beneath his
lower lip.

“He is pretty,
though,” he concedes with a low rumble of his voice, the wet tip of his
cock sliding along Zenyatta’s lower lip like a thumb, sensors telling the omnic
about the saltiness in the fluid he leaves on the grey mesh, tacky and new.

“Pretty little holes to teach…just for us…”

He dips the tip of his cock in, then, under Genji’s watchful eye, just testing
the waters and breathing out heavily through his nostrils in lieu of a low,
needy groan.

“That’s it…now open up nice and wide…never got a big dick like this one,
hm? Gonna break your new cunt in with style, little whore.”

Surprisingly warm and
soft, salt and musk joins the other overloading sensations as Reaper pushes
inside his mouth. Zenyatta’s moans vibrates up the black column of his throat,
mouth quaking around Reaper’s cock. Slick drools past his lips and rolls down
his chin. Genji watches, fascinated, as Reaper’s dick disappears inch by inch
without resistance.

Zenyatta’s mouth doesn’t feel like his other holes, less sensitive, though he
is feeling something, sparks of pressure, tasting, mouthing, recording
Reaper’s expression as he catches his growls behind frowning lips.

Reaper tsks, hard and low, Zenyatta’s hands grappling at his hips as he
fucks into his throat. The man rolls his shoulders, withdraws though Zenyatta
tries to follow his dick as it leaves his mouth.

“You’re terrible at this.” He plucks one of Zenyatta’s hands from where
it’s clamped around his body and pulls it to his own lips, sucking the two
longest fingers into his mouth. Zenyatta groans, enraptured as Raper hollows
his cheeks, tongue swirling around them, dipping into the sensitive divots
where fingers connect to palm.

Genji watches, nippling at the pistons at Zenyatta’s throat, hands unable to
stay still. Caressing the small, delicate cables, following the rows of red
down his spine. He teases his fingers at Zenyatta’s ass, but his eyes are all
on Reaper, breathing so loudly against the side of Zenyatta’s head as he
watches his boss suck, beard growing damp from the sloppiness of it. Reaper
dips his chin to stare down the line of his body, tugging Zen’s fingers out of
his mouth roughly.

“Do it like that. It’s not hard.” The omnic’s hands shakily return to
the man’s hips when he tilts his head up again, presents his mouth, teal and
pretty, tongue held flat and soft. Reaper shuffles forward again, angling his
dick down by gripping its base, just pressing it to Zenyatta’s tongue, gauging
his reactions. Genji’s fingers speed up in time with his own hand against his
segmented cock.

“Zenyatta, hurry.” Genji bites out, his dick smacking wetly against
the omnic’s thin waist between a thick cable and his softer, dark middle,
whimpering. Zenyatta feels his precum smearing all over him, wonders vaguely if
he would ever be able to get properly clean after this, would go around knowing
he smelled like Genji and Reaper.

His lips wrap shakily around the head of Reaper’s cock, swirling, suckling once
it’s deep enough. His tongue slides beneath the silken foreskin, peeling it
back from the reddened cockhead; Reaper groans, swears biting out of him like
it hurts, but the hand on his head presses him down deeper.

“Suck.”

Zenyatta does, hollowing his cheeks, tongue mapping the underside as it pushes
past it, knocks against his palate and smooth teeth. His array dims as his face
hits the hard, clenching swell of Reaper’s stomach, voice box stuttering, not
from the intrusion, but the pulse of pleasure.

It feels amazing, clenching against the throbbing dick in his throat. His hands
at Reaper’s hips tighten, and Zenyatta pulls back an inch before burying his
face again into the overwhelming, heady smell of Reaper’s pubic hair. Reaper’s
dick slides over something inside that makes his whole body shiver. Reaper can
feels his balls draw tight, the knowing pressure building low in his gut.

“Gonna give you what you need. Fill this slutty hole up.” Reaper
growls, rabbit-fucking the omnic’s dripping mouth when he won’t give him more
than a few inches to pull back.  "So hungry for it. Fuck. Even
if you’re bad, a hole is a hole, right?“

He grows annoyed with the omnic’s attempt to control his thrusts, but chuckles
at Zenyatta’s needy synthetic noises when he forces the omnic’s head back. He
revels in the long, slick drag of his cock drawn between those lips at the pace
he allows, slow and breath-taking, grasping the back of Zenyatta’s head to keep
him from holding it in so deeply, from his throat constricting and massaging
every inch.

"Genji, are you gonna come like a schoolboy humping his stomach? Get it
together.”

“I’m trying, I’m
trying…Fuck…”

Zenyatta can feel Genji’s fingers clumsy and eager, touching against his back,
sliding along delicate little cables and gripping gold capped pistons. It is
distracting; almost like he’s getting pet. Soft sensations that don’t quite
touch any sensors but are tantalizingly just out of reach. They make him
tremble, cunt clenching and clit primed for more.

He wants…

“Suck, pretty little whore.” Reaper’s voice is low, an intimate purr.
He slides deep into Zenyatta’s artificial mouth, the slide slick and squelching
as the fat cock forces artificial saliva to bubble from the stretched mesh
corners of Zenyatta’s mouth.

They are both surprised when suddenly a new program kicks on, Zenyatta’s
systems calibrated enough to start reaching for the more sophisticated
functions, and a little pump springs on, starting to pump air out and creating
a gently suckling vacuum.

Reaper’s hips hitch, a startled swear falling from his lips. Zenyatta can feel
his cock swell against the sensors of his tongue, a generous squirt of pre-cum
shooting down his throat.

“Genji,” Reaper growls, hoarse, huge hands scrabbling at the back of
Zenyatta’s head and threatening to unplug some of the thicker wires in his
effort to get a good grip on him as he rocks into the suckling, wet vacuum.

“Either you get your cock in him now or you’ll have to deal with the
sloppy whore afterwards.”

Zenyatta loses a bit of time, then, because Reaper pulls back, extricating
himself from the snug, welcoming vacuum and producing a lush, filthy sound as
he breaks the suckling seal of Zenyatta’s lips. Immediately, warnings beep up
along his visual, body seizing as he is less than absolutely filled to the brim
(oh how naive he was…) and distorted, frantic pleas slip from his voice box
as he surges forward, mouth open and ready, slick dripping from him as he
mouths at the fat cock and tries to get it back.

Reaper laughs at him.
Ridicules him—but gives him back his treat all the same, slow and steady and at
odds with the sharp sudden fullness of his cunt as he’s getting spread so fast,
his mechanisms whirr embarrassingly loud to adjust to the smooth intrusion.

He pulls back, turns his head half around, the corner of his mouth getting
stretched with cock as he tries to peer behind, voice box warbling in the most
basic omnic chirps and clicks, questioning and confused.

“Oh no. You stay here. Give me your mouth, slut.” Reaper forces his
head back and ruts into his mouth while Genji still seems to breathe through
sinking into the lush, slick of a warm, synthetic cunt.

“Shit… I don’t know if I can…hold on for long…” He pulls back
and carefully, slowly pushes back in. Zenyatta can’t see the pinched look on
his scarred face, the way his eyebrows are pulled together in genuine distress.

He is preoccupied with trying to regulate his programs which are going haywire—
having to regulate two mechanisms at the same time suddenly and only managing a
spastic, nervous vibration along Reaper’s cock.

“Goddamn fuckin’—hold on, then. Don’t you dare come before I tell you.
Fuck, he’s getting better with a dick in his sloppy cunt. It’s…”

He doesn’t say more. He is baring his teeth and growling, hips rutting, large
hands cradling Zenyatta’s head as he starts for the first time to slowly fuck
him, really use his mouth with just a couple of inches of fat cock.

Reaper snaps his hips, each quick
pistoning forcing more sounds from Zenyatta’s throat, suctioning when he can,
noises obscene when Reaper withdraws enough to let the vacuum break.

“Fuck, I can’t get enough of that. Disgusting.” Reaper murmurs,
tinged with desperation. His hand scrambles to grip the omnic’s throat, forcing
Zenyatta’s back into a graceful, painful arc that Zenyatta’s arms tremble to
support.

Genji’s eyes flit between his dick disappearing inside that sopping slit,
Zenyatta’s smaller hole clenching tiny and teal, and the omnic’s mouth being
used to its fullest capacity.  His own metal hands grasp Zenyatta’s waist,
angle forward faster, unable to pace himself. Zenyatta’s cunt recalibrates,
sucking, tight and wet and perfect, like Zenyatta’s made for him.

“You should’ve come to us sooner…Hah, you’re incredible.” Genji
doubles over, mouthing at the thick cables at his neck, wishing he could mark
it up, let everyone know that they owned him. “No one’s gonna touch you.
You’re our little whore.” The cyborg babbles, hands grasping his waist
brutally as he fucks so hard it nearly hurts. “K-kill anyone that
dares.”

Zenyatta sobs, clicks and whirring and fans at full power but it’s not enough.
He feels hot to the touch, warning signals firing, each node and sensor
overloaded. He wants to warn them, afraid again, can he have this, will they
let him. His clicks and hums break high and screeching, jerking between them,
deeper, deeper, more he wants to say it but he can’t make the words form. It’s
good, he’s—

“Yeah, that’s right. Fucking—cum,
you little slut.” Reaper growls, and Zenyatta shorts all at once,
cunt and throat spasming, system errors, glitching and powering down,
everything jerking and twitching with misfires. He depressurizes so hard he
feels broken, splattering around Genji’s throbbing cock, coating his groin and
thighs.

Zenyatta can’t see, can’t sense, only feels the pulses of overloaded nodes in
his throat and between his legs. Reaper holds him up as his arms collapse,
unable to support his weight. The suction in his throat draws too tight,
malfunctioning, and Reaper roars, swearing harsh and guttural, filling him to
the brim. His throat is too shallow to hold everything in, and it bubbles and
spills, joining the lube and slick dripping down his chin and throat, coating
Reaper’s hand that’s clutching it.

Genji keens behind him, and he feels the hot gush flood him, the men clutching
him in place while he shuts down between them, each rocking into him with
rhythmless abandon. He thinks he’s begging, trying to beg, synthetic chirrups,
too much, as they milk themselves into him, only aware of the immediate
stimulation.