meeh not at all happy with this one. I started it like 10 times over and it just didn’t want to flow 😦 I’m just not good at writing Zenyatta *lies down and sobs because Zenyatta is so fudging cute*
take this version tho.
When McCree bounced, his whole body was in motion – from the thick meat of his thighs over the generous curve of his ass to the pouch on his belly. Even his pecs jiggled if he got only fucked hard enough, large barrel chest heaving, shaggy head thrown back in ecstasy.
McCree was, all in all, a very pleasing human to look at. Zenyatta’s favorite, in fact. He loved witnessing McCree’s pleasure; the way he easily started sweating, ample body hair matting against his skin, breath coming in huge gulping, rattling gasps that shook his frame just as much as Hanzo’s arduous fucking.
Zenyatta was fascinated by him – couldn’t, in fact, keep his fingers from that delightful, sturdy frame, carefully carding warm metal digits through the thick hair on his quivering thighs, pinching the muscle and fat between them, or sliding over the jiggling flesh of his hips to the heave of his belly, pressing down with the palm of his hand to feel the resistance of those spring steel muscles beneath the soft exterior.
McCree was everything Zenyatta was not. He was without abandon; a huge man towering above many his compatriots, with a will of steel and yet so ready to bend down for their benefit, laughing the whole way; so ready to let himself get pushed onto his back, willingly opening his long legs and showing off the dark, furry crack of his ass – long, thick cock nearly second to the wild, intriguing tangle of his pubic hair.
He was wild and unkempt and absolutely unapologetic about it. He was impressive. So very, very… impressive –
And Zenyatta wished he had the sensors to enjoy him in all his glory. To be able to feel the crisp texture of his coarse body hair and smell the thick spice of his aftershave, or the…
“Damn… Hanzo,” he grunted, half laughing half exasperated, trying to accommodate the archer’s head as he shoved it beneath one impressive biceps, nuzzling into the thatch of dark hair there even as his hips kept pumping, twisting, snapping, McCree’s plush ass cushioning the thrusts with noisy slaps.
Zenyatta hummed, hand smoothing gently across Hanzo’s head, voice holding a note of longing as he cooed: “You love smelling him, don’t you?”
And McCree, over Hanzo’s low, delirious, assenting groan, just laughed at them. Deep, breathless belly laughs that had his body moving, brown, gentle eyes trying to peek at them.
“Ya’ll are crazy,” he drawled, roguish grin on his face melting into something softer, full with adoration as Zenyatta cradled his large head between his hands and leaned above him, nuzzling the his smooth faceplate against the wild, sweaty mess of his face.
“You are extraordinary,” he promised him solemnly, staying where he was to let him kiss sloppy and wet all over his golden chrome jaw and the seam on his faceplate. He couldn’t feel it, yet he loved it all the same.
He reached for one dark, oval nipple, tweaking it carefully with modulated strength. McCree was trapped between their bodies and seemed content to wait out whatever they had in store for him; his big, powerful body relaxed and lazy, long, thick cock lying on the cushion of his own pudgy belly, making a sticky mess out of the hair there.
Such a curious human being. So very, very pleasing.
Cyberrat Writes 