Soldier76/Zenyatta/Lúcio – continuation of this fic – contains coercion, non-con/dub-con, dirty talk, humiliation/degradation – Jack has the two of them at his home to perform for his pleasure…

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It has almost been too easy to get them to the point they are now at: softly humping on Jack’s unmade bed, pressing suckling little kisses against each other’s mouth while he sits behind the camera and films the whole thing.

It’s like they had almost been waiting for it. Like they had hoped someone would eventually stumble across them and unveil them as the dirty little tramps they really are. It would have taken all the fun out of having power to lord over them if watching them didn’t provide him with so much satisfaction.

“Yeah, you like to perform, don’t you?” he murmurs finally when he’s looked through the lens one last time to make sure they were nicely framed, then he takes a step back to watch the action unfold properly before him.

Zenyatta’s cheeks have flushed a nice dark red, and there’s a bit of a frown between Lúcio’s brows. At least they have the decency to look mildly ashamed by their whorish conduct. Jack pushes a hand unselfconsciously into his shorts and strokes his cock slowly, leisurely. He has all the time in the world, after all.

When Zenyatta twists his hips minimally away, ostensibly to lighten the pressure against his cock, Jack can see how tented both of their tight leggins already are. They’re as into the situation as he is, even if they played demure and horrified in the beginning. As he watches, the bright yellow-and-green pants Lúcio has donned slowly sport a wet patch where his dick is drooling into the fabric.

“Fucking sluts,” Jack grunts. It sounds disgusted even though it gets him off, and the flush on Zenyatta’s cheeks quickly spreads out to his ears.

He lifts his thigh – long and slender, just like the rest of the boy – and pushes his knee over Lúcio’s hip. Jack makes his way over to is old ratty armchair and plops into it, feet propped on the edge of the bed, not far away from the pretty boys making out for him.

“Sit on him,” he suggests and feels a spike of unholy pleasure when Zenyatta *does*, shoving himself astride Lúcio’s hips, their mouths finally separating with a wet little pop that goes straight to Jack’s balls. Their lips are plump and soft looking. Like they would look gorgeous around his dick.

He wonders if the little sluts even know how to treat a *real* cock. He’ll find out later.

They dry fuck for him, making little breathy sounds that seem straight out of some softcore porn. They drag their little cocks against each other, bulges pressing and rubbing and squishing as they get a bit needy and desperate in their need.

They even look at each other like they got stars in their fucking eyes. Lúcio’s hands are all over Zenyatta, squeezing at his small ass and supple thighs and urging him to grind down harder. Maybe make their little cute dicks hurt a bit… and how interesting of a thought is that?

But they also seem to have forgotten Jack, which… does not sit well with him. He frowns, thumb smearing across the crown of his dick, the tip of his pointer finger idly nudging its way into his foreskin to feel how much wetness has gathered in there already.

He rudely shoves one foot against Zenyatta’s hip, jostling both boys out of their lovey-dovey little bubble they’ve sequestered themselves into. When they glance at him, he makes a motion with his free hand.

“I wanna see you do a sixty-nine. Don’t get those little dicks out, though.”

He should be more adventurous, maybe – they *are* yoga teachers, after all, and nice and flexible – but for the moment he wants to simply bask in the fact that they do everything he tells him to.

They scramble to obey. They look lovely, faces stuffed with each other’s bulge, mouths greedy as they start licking and suckling through the thin fabric of their leggins. He slowly jerks himself as he watches them play for him, and has to stop once or twice just to let the feeling of orgasm recede again.

He feels delirious, almost in trance as he watches them. Listens to them. They are nasty little boys that make a lot of noise, and he *loves* hearing their little slurping sounds and sighs and thoughtless hums as they get more breathless, more eager. More needy. Their slim hips start shifting, motions getting a bit more sharp and demanding.

They want to shoot their nasty little loads, that much is obvious – and Jack could come just from the fact that they have to wait for *him* to give them the okay.

“Stop,” he croaks finally. They turn their heads towards him, staring, cheeks dark with a flush, mouths hanging open to pull enough oxygen into their lungs. He catches Lúcio’s gaze travel down towards the big cock in his fist, and Jack grins slow and satisfied. Of course they would crave the real thing after getting themselves riled up with each other’s little toy.

“Come here and suck my dick.”

They crawl towards him like kittens, sitting pretty between his thighs and getting at his dick like they are starved. He notices them holding hands, but does not have enough brain power to tell them to stop that because Zenyatta is slurping noisily at his foreskin while Lúcio is sucking one of his balls into his mouth, and *fuck* he is in heaven.