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Just for Tonight

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“Valentine’s Day,” Hanzo hears McCree mutter behind him as he surveys the safehouse they’re going to be holed up in for the rest of the day, “They really sent us out on a mission on Valentine’s Day .”

“Be quiet,” he snaps at Jesse over his shoulder, muscles sore from use and cranky from being on his feet for the pat 16 hours,  “I dislike this situation as much as you do.”

That’s a lie.

He adores being around McCree.

The man is a breath of fresh air amongst the other Overwatch agents who are either entirely too friendly (which Hanzo can see as fake from a mile away) or distant and cold with him. Hanzo had anticipated the behavior towards him before he’d joined but it doesn’t make dealing with it any easier. Jesse McCree, on the other hand, approached him as a colleague without mentioning any of his baggage and has treated him like a teammate ever since. There’s never been a cold moment between the two of them, only playful arguments and trust. Although he’ll never say it out loud, he appreciates his company and his demeanor much more than the saccharine smiles and the distance he feels with the other agents. He covers up his true feelings with biting remarks that Jesse knows doesn’t have any ill will behind them.

He will admit that being sent on a sudden mission to scout out King’s Row was not in his Valentine’s Day plans but it’s proved to be far better than his actual schedule for the ay. For one, it’s much better than drinking good sake alone and passing out after a pitiful masturbation session, like he’s been doing for the past twelve years. For two, he’s on the mission with McCree, though they haven’t really… spoken much over the past few weeks, considering one very drunk night that Hanzo only remembers bits and pieces of but it’s enough to parse that the two of them had fallen into bed with one another. The situation between them has been slightly awkward ever since, as neither of them have made any move to mention what happened.

To be frank, Hanzo would rather die than jeopardize the friendship he has with Jesse by bringing up the fantasies he’d indulged in while his inhibitions were loosened by copious amounts of liquor. Knowing they had some fun together, even if his memory of the night is full of holes, is enough for him.

If he tells himself that enough, he’s sure to believe it one day.

Hanzo purses his lips, ignoring where his mind wants to go, and stares at the spartan accommodations before them. It smells of disuse, the air stale and full of dust. He strides towards the center of the room where a single light bulb is hanging from the ceiling and pulls the cord to turn it on. It casts a dim light all around the room but it’s enough. It makes him want to open a window, though of course there are none in this basement. It would really defeat the purpose of this being a safehouse if there were entry points like that. There’s a folding table in the corner with two chairs pushed in on either side of it, which is already much more furniture than most of the abandoned safehouses they stay in, a restroom to the right of that that Hanzo only hopes will have running water that isn’t glacial, a counter with a cabinet beneath it, and a single twin-sized bed shoved against the far wall.

“I mean, if they were gonna send us out on a mission on Valentine’s Day , of all the damn days in the month of February, why’d they only send the two of us?!” Jesse’s irritation mounts with every word, though Hanzo isn’t even listening to him grouse. He’s more concerned with the fact that there’s only one bed in the safehouse. The implications of it send a shiver up his spine as his mind decides to conjure up images of being pressed against Jesse McCree in a long, hard line as they both try to fit on the sparse mattress.

Jesse is still grumbling behind him, though now it’s under his breath and, again, Hanzo isn’t really listening. He steps around Hanzo and moves to sit down in one of the chairs at the table, which he immediately puts his long legs on, crossing them at the ankle and leaning back in his seat in a way that Hanzo thinks he shouldn’t. Who knows how structurally sound that chair is? But he’s not about to tell him not to. Jesse is a grown man, if he breaks the chair then it’ll be his own fault.

Hanzo goes to gingerly place the case with Stormbow in it near the restroom before he opens the door and walks in, flipping the switch on as he goes. The light flickers for a few moments before turning on, coming from an old fluorescent bar on the ceiling that casts a sickly yellow glow along the grimy tiles. He doesn’t dare touch the disgusting mirror or the yellowed porcelain sink that is covered in rust stains. Hanzo swears he saw a spider scurry along the ceiling and a cockroach or three in the tub, from what he can see of it through the papery thin shower curtain. The only thing that Hanzo can even think of using is the toilet and that’s only because he can stand a bit away from it while relieving himself. That is, he thought he could use it until he sees a bug about as long and thick as his finger slither out from under the back of the toilet and down.

Yep, that’s not happening. Hanzo flicks off the light, hoping that it won’t shatter from being on for a mere moment, and closes the door. Part of him wonders if he should break the handle on the door so no one else has to be subjected to the horrors he just saw but that would run the risk of the creatures inside escaping and he is not about to wake up to all manner of insects crawling over them.

“Uh, y’alright there, Hanzo?” Jesse says, snapping him out of his train of thought. Apparently he’s done complaining about being out on Valentine’s Day (though Hanzo knows for a fact Jesse doesn’t have a significant other to spend the day with– he’s asked around. For curiosity’s sake, he tells himself, although he doesn’t believe it in the slightest). Hanzo turns to look at him and sees him chewing on the end of an unlit cigar, one thick brow raised in question. He appreciates the fact that he’s not lighting up in the safehouse, it’s stuffy enough as it is in here without the smoke.

“The bathroom is a hazardous area.”

“Ah, bugs?”

“Yes, among other things.”

Jesse shakes his head and tilts his head back to the look at the ceiling with a scowl marring his features. Hanzo understands his frustration. The mission feels  like a bust as they’d combed King’s Row from the rooftops and the ground only to come up empty-handed with no more intel than they’d already had. And they’re going to have to wait until the following evening for pick up, as all their pilots are out for the evening.

With their significant others.

Because it’s Valentine’s Day.

Hanzo heaves a sigh. McCree’s irritation at being sent out on today’s holiday suddenly makes a lot more sense. He knows the reason why they were sent too– being single can have its perks on any other day than Valentine’s Day. Considering they’re two of the only people left in Overwatch without a romantic partner, it’s no surprise that Winston sent them out today.

“Alright, I’m done moping,” Jesse proclaims loudly as Hanzo walks past him to the spartan bed. What a surprise . Hanzo presses a hand against the mattress and grimaces at the feel of the grainy, dusty sheets covering the rock-hard slab. He hears McCree stand behind him, spurs jingling with every step he takes towards the door. “I’m goin’ out to grab us some grub. Y’need anything, Hanzo?”

“A bed without moth-eaten sheets that we can perhaps stand to sleep in.”

“Hah! I’ll grab some actual bed sheets while I’m out then. Keep yer comm on,” Hanzo turns his head to look at McCree just as the man tips his hat and gives him a wink, “I’ll be back in an hour. And, if I ain’t, then avenge me. Got it?”

“I will hunt anyone that dares harm you to the ends of the Earth, I assure you,” Hanzo quips back with a wry smile that he hopes disguises the true nature of that statement. By the goofy grin he gets from Jesse in return, it worked.

“Then I got nothing to worry about.”

–––––––––––––––––––––––

Hanzo busies himself with locating cleaning supplies and manages to find a broom and a dustpan, as well as a spray bottle with cleaning liquid and paper towels that should probably crumble to dust the minute he touches them. Luckily, they do not, and he takes it upon himself to sweep the floor and dust off the counter and table, making the space more livable for the night. Part of him wants to tackle the disgusting interior of the bathroom but the thought of setting foot into the cursed space makes his skin crawl. If they must relieve themselves, there’s sure to be a restroom somewhere nearby. Neither of them should be subjected to the horrors that lie within , he thinks with a cursory glance at the foreboding bathroom door.

By the time Jesse gets back, Hanzo has changed out of his mission gear into a pair of sweats and a t-shirt, and is seated at the clean folding table with his data pad in front of him. He’s busy reading through the news and clicking the ball of his tongue piercing against the back of his teeth when there’s an intricate series of knocks at the door that he recognizes as the passcode. Hanzo still grabs the handgun he keeps in the case with Stormbow before he goes to answer the door, just in case.

Hanzo opens the door with the pistol behind his back. He’s relieved to see Jesse is the only one there, one hand full of paper bags that Hanzo just knows is full of greasy food, a case of water bottles at his feet, and a plastic case with fresh sheets under his unoccupied arm.

“Honey, I’m home,” he declares with a grin. Hanzo ignores the way his stomach flips at the offhand term of endearment and rolls his eyes instead before he stoops to grab the case of water off the floor. He carries it over to the counter that is now dust-free, Jesse follows after him, whistling loudly when he sees the now livable conditions of the safehouse.

“Well damn. Can almost call this place home now,” Jesse mumble under his breath. Hanzo cannot help how he visibly preens at the praise. The interior now smells like lemon-scented cleaner and, after locating his incense burner and a lighter in his bag, the spicy-sweet smell of smoke. He’d managed to unearth a vent while sweeping through the thick layer of dust and, after inspecting it for creatures like the ones in the bathroom and deeming it clean, had cracked it open just enough for some air flow, which already has made the room feel more lived in with fresh air replacing the stale.

“Thank you for getting new sheets,” Hanzo says while grabbing the plastic case from Jesse’s arm, “I could clean everything except for the bed.”

“‘S not a problem. Especially since we’re both gonna be on it for the night.” Jesse says the last bit hesitantly, as if he’s expecting Hanzo to snap at him and tell him there’s absolutely no way that he’d sleep in the same bed as him and that Jesse would be sleeping on the floor for the duration of the evening. A tense silence follows his statement in which Hanzo nods in response rather than saying anything, not trusting his voice to sound as eager as he is.

Jesse takes the food to the table and starts pulling burgers and fries out of the bags while Hanzo pulls the decrepit sheets off the bed, vows to burn them before they leave, and remakes the bed. It even comes with a pillowcase, thank the Gods, which Hanzo hastily puts on the pillow he’d beaten the dust out of earlier. Once the bed is made, Hanzo grabs two water bottles from the counter and his sake gourd from his bag before sliding into the only unoccupied seat at the table.

“McDonald’s? Really?” The disdain drips off each word as he eyes the paper-wrapped burger and the large fries in front of him.

McCree shrugs as he takes off his serape and lets it hang over the back of the chair. “I’m sorry, darlin’, it ain’t the finest dining but it’s all that’s open this late.” He reaches across the table and snags a sugar-infused fry from Hanzo’s share before he pops it in his mouth and winks. “Did you want somethin’ else? Maybe… McCree’s ?” Jesse punctuates that with a truly absurd eyebrow waggle in his direction.

Hanzo isn’t able to hide his snort, nor the smile that instantly splits his features fast enough. He’s an absolute dork, charming and funny and kind. The frustration of the day bleeds out of the two of them as they forget about the festivities going on out in the world and focus on the easy back and forth they fall into. As far as they’re concerned, there’s nothing else aside from the two of them in this safehouse.

They finish their greasy food and trade flasks and  stories of their do and dare. Hanzo regales McCree with the time he’d managed to seduce an assassin sent to kill him and ended up distracting him by biting down hard on his cock, enough to break it, and then slitting his throat to stop him from screaming. Jesse, despite grabbing at his crotch in mock horror, is doubled over laughing by the end of it, mostly from Hanzo’s horrible descriptions of the man.

“Have you ever seen a popped balloon? That’s what his balls looked like, only covered with hair.”

Holy fuck , Hanzo, please–”

“I’m surprised I was able to suck his dick for as long as I did without vomiting. I’m pretty sure more than half of it was covered in dick cheese.”

“Fucking– first of all, that’s gross as fuck and I feel bad for yer mouth. Secondly, you say these things with the straightest face an’ that makes it so much funnier .”

Hanzo deliberately deadpans on his next response. “That’s the straightest thing about me.”

He’s glad the safehouse is soundproofed, because Jesse ends up howling at that.

They clear through about half of each other’s flasks before Hanzo feels the exhaustion of the day starting to weigh on him. After the third time he’s caught hiding a yawn behind his hand, Jesse insists that they get ready for bed. They venture out into the chilly streets to locate a bathroom first, where they relieve themselves for the evening and brush their teeth, and Jesse changes into his own pair of sweats and a t-shirt proclaiming, “Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy,” that Hanzo is embarrassed to even see , let alone be seen with. Before they know it, they’re back in the safehouse, as clean as they can be.

Now they just need to… get on the bed.

The twin-sized bed.

That’s supposed to fit the two of them for the night.

Hanzo can admit that he likes McCree. A lot. More than he should, for certain, but he’s not made any moves on him other than what happened a few weeks ago and, to be fair, he doesn’t actually remember what led to their tryst. Considering the fact that Jesse hasn’t brought up what happened, it’s safe to assume that the interest is unrequited. He was just a means of release for the night. While that makes him feel cold from the inside out, it’s the truth of the matter. He doesn’t mind it. He doesn’t.

Jesse climbs into the bed first, as nonchalant as can be, and scoots as close to the wall as he can. There’s still not enough space but it’s enough for Hanzo to lay on his side and for there to still be a few inches between them. The mattress, even with new sheets on it, is still not the most comfortable thing in the world, but it will do for the night. That, and the dim light coming from the only light in the room, makes for slightly difficult sleeping conditions, but it’s nothing he can’t handle. The only thing Hanzo needs to do now is go to sleep.

That proves to be incredibly difficult with the object of his affections so close to him.

McCree has no problem falling asleep, as his breathing deepens and he starts to gently snore within minutes. Hanzo is left to lay there, petrified. His fingers itch to grab at Jesse’s hip, to push his hair out of the way so he can lean in and kiss at the back of his neck. Every part of him wants , and with Jesse so close, within reach, his mind conjures up the most traitorous images.

They’re both a little tipsy, right? Is that enough for McCree to want him back, just for tonight? Hanzo shudders, thinking of how Jesse’s lips would feel against his, how his hands would snake up his shirt to cup his pectorals and thumb his pierced nipples, the things he’d whisper in his ear in that whiskey-smooth voice of his. It takes a lot of willpower to resist what he wants to do so badly that he can feel it in his soul, an aching need that won’t leave him alone.

Stop , he chastises himself, He doesn’t feel that way about you. You were good for sex then but he’s not going to want to stick around if you drag feelings into it, Hanzo.

Hanzo suppresses the sigh that threatens to escape him. He knows that he’s right. But he can’t help it, can’t fight the way his body responds to McCree and his presence so eagerly. It’s natural to want when the person he wants is right there in front of him. Hanzo sucks in a deep breath instead and shuts his eyes, ignoring the way whole body thrums with their proximity, and focuses on trying to go to bed. In the morning, they’ll go back to base, and Hanzo can pine from afar again.

He falls into a restless sleep, dreaming of how McCree might taste on his tongue.

–––––––––––––––––––––––

Hanzo wakes up in the middle of the night from the bed shaking.

Well, it’s not really shaking , per se, but it’s moving a bit. Enough to wake him up.

His fight or flight instinct kicks in immediately at the unexpected movement and his eyes fly open, every muscle in his body tensing instinctively. He doesn’t dare to even breathe, ears perked up as he listens for the sound of footsteps behind him, or the sound of another person’s breathing, but he can hear neither, nor can he sense someone else in the room besides the two of them. All he hears is Jesse’s breathing in front of him, though it’s not steady like it was earlier. It’s a bit… strained. Tense. Like the rigid line of his spine.

What is he up to?

Hanzo watches Jesse with narrowed eyes as he carefully matches his breathing to the cadence it is when he’s asleep, waiting for… Well, he doesn’t know what he’s waiting for, but it’s something. After a few minutes, Jesse relaxes just the slightest bit, enough that his shoulders fall from where they were raised to his ears, and he moves, making the bed creak slightly with the way his weight shifts.

Hanzo is not at all concerned with that, though.

He’s more focused on the way Jesse’s arm is moving in a circular motion, doing something that he’s obviously afraid to get caught doing. And, by the way he’s breathing, labored and stifled, Hanzo has a guess on what it might be. The idea sends tendrils of delicious heat through him, radiating out from his groin to each of his body’s extremes. He doesn’t make a move, though, doesn’t shift to place his hands on Jesse, or lean in to kiss his neck the way he desperately wants to. Who’s to say the reason why he’s doing that right now is because of him? It could just be leftover stress and frustration of the day that he needs to get out. It’s not like he can use the bathroom to relieve himself, considering how disgusting it is.

Hanzo is just resolving to ignore him, to protect his dignity, and to try to go back to sleep, even if his cock is thickening simply from knowing what he’s up to, when McCree lets out a quiet moan.

Hah , fuck,” he hears Jesse swear under his breath. He’s never been able to stay quiet for long, even when he’s trying to masturbate with someone else in the same bed, apparently. “ God damn . Winston just had to send us on a mission together, jus’ had to give us the safehouse with one bed.” McCree pauses in his complaining to let out a shaky breath, his arm momentarily halting as he struggles to control his breathing before he starts right back up again. Hanzo watches the movement of his arm with jealousy biting at his insides. Who could he possibly be thinking of right now that got him randy enough to do this?

He’s not sure he wants an answer to that, if he’ll like the answer.

“‘S not fair to send me off on a Valentine’s Day mission with… with… Fucking Hell ,” McCree visibly tips his head back, enough so that Hanzo can see the way his eyes are squeezed shut and his brows knit together. The sight is almost enough to completely ruin his plan of ignoring McCree, until he remembers that Jesse doesn’t like him in that way, and he’s not about to start a casual sexual relationship with him when he knows how he feels. It would hurt him too much in the end, when Jesse inevitably leaves him when he realizes the extent of Hanzo’s feelings, even if he would get to sleep with McCree occasionally.

Hanzo squeezes his eyes shut. He just needs to go back to bed, that’s all, that’s it, once he goes back to sleep the night will end faster and they can get back to base where he can safely fuck himself to the thought of McCree like he usually does, and everything will be normal ag–

Hanzo ,” Jesse moans under his breath, low and quiet and dripping with need.

His reservations snap. Fuck ignoring him, fuck not wanting a casual relationship– he can’t take this anymore. Whatever deity out there deciding to fuck with him tonight has won .

“Don’t come,” he commands as he wraps an arm around McCree and places a hand over his, where he’s frantically rubbing at the front of his sweats. “Not yet.”

Jesse tenses even as Hanzo scoots forward enough that he can press himself against his back. He uses the grip he has on his hand to bat it away, though he doesn’t leave him without friction for long, as he places his own hand over the crotch of his pants. Hanzo sighs happily at the feeling of him under his palm, thick and hot even through the fabric. It feels exactly like he remembers. Although that night is full of holes in his head, he can still distinctly recall how big Jesse McCree was, has stared long and hard enough at his the obscene bulge in his groin time and time again, and tonight proves that wasn’t just a figment of his imagination.

McCree sucks in a stuttering breath, the hand he was using scrabbling back to grab at Hanzo. “H-How long–?”

“Long enough,” he answers, knowing what Jesse was going to ask before he was able to finish his statement. How long he’s been up watching him is irrelevant– all that matters is now . Hanzo gives in to his earlier desires and leans forward to kiss at the exposed parts of McCree’s neck, listening with satisfaction to the hitch in the cowboy’s breathing while he lavishes him with attention. Taking his time, he drags open-mouthed kisses along his flesh, savoring the taste of sweat on his skin until he feels Jesse twitch under his hand. Only then does he pull back.

“Turn around, let me see you.” It’s more of a request than a demand, but Jesse obliges anyway, turning in the semicircle of Hanzo’s arm until they’re face to face. The sight before him steals his breath away.

His amber eyes are hungry, full of lust and desire and just a touch of guilt. There’s no way he isn’t ashamed at being caught, though Hanzo knows he wasn’t exactly trying too hard to stay quiet. Perhaps there’s a part of him that wanted this to happen, that he wanted to be caught. Maybe he anticipated this The implications of such has ice and fire flooding Hanzo’s veins as he stares at Jesse’s face.

There’s a flush high on his cheekbones that he can barely see in the dim, darkening his sun-kissed skin in such a lovely way. His lower lip looks bitten already and wet with his own saliva. Hanzo wants to taste him, wants to sink his teeth into his lip and tug on it until Jesse is whining and flushed impossibly darker and surging forward to keep their mouths on one another.

Rather than do that, he speaks.

“Who were you thinking of?”

Hanzo asks him before he can stop himself.

Jesse blinks at him with wide eyes.

Fuck , he’s going to ruin this already and they haven’t even gotten started yet. He just has to go and ruin everything that’s good in his life, doesn’t he? Him and his big mouth and his jealous nature and his–

“You.”

What .

Hanzo doesn’t get a chance to respond, as one of Jesse’s hands tangle in his hair and he’s suddenly being pulled into a deep kiss. His tongue pushes into his mouth and greedily laps at his palette without warning. The implications of his response hit him as he gives in to Jesse. He opens up to him eagerly, sucking on his tongue and dragging his teeth along the muscle while whining low in his throat. The kiss is perfect, Jesse is perfect, the flavor of him is perfect– everything about this is perfect .

McCree tastes like lingering toothpaste and tobacco, a bit stale since he’s been sleeping for a few hours, and some spicy undercurrent that can only be his own unique flavor. Hanzo loves it . It’s everything he’s ever wanted and then some. And knowing that Jesse hadn’t been thinking of someone else, that he’s the source of these feelings of McCree’s makes it all the sweeter.

Hanzo will take what he can get tonight, even if it’s just for tonight.

The sound of their kisses are like music to his ears. Slick and loud, punctuated by the occasional hitch of breath or aborted moan of the other’s name before it’s swallowed down, and the occasional click of their teeth together when they move too fast– it’s simultaneously cacophonous and harmonious. Hanzo loses himself to every swipe of Jesse’s tongue along his, every moan of his that he swallows and feels rattle through him, and kisses back until he fears he won’t be able to live without Jesse’s mouth on his.

“Good,” Hanzo gasps once they’re forced to pull away from each other for breath, lest they faint from the lack of air, “Always think of me. Never anyone else.” He wiggles a hand between the two of them to cup Jesse’s cock, which twitches in his palm at the touch. Hanzo keeps their eyes locked– Jesse’s are practically black, pupils blown so wide that he looks drunk, and Hanzo is sure his aren’t much better. Seeing his desire so plainly written in those eyes of his has heat flooding his veins.

Jesse answers him by flipping the two of them over so Hanzo is astride him. He’s a pretty picture like this, flyaway brown hair strewn across the pillow or sticking to the light sweat on his forehead, a smile tugging at his bruised, kiss-bitten lips, and brows raised in obvious amusement.

“It ain’t been someone else in my fantasies for a while now, Hanzo. Hell, I gotta say– was so damn pissed that Winston sent us off together cuz I had plans at home for a special Valentine’s with just you and I,” Jesse grins sheepishly after that, ducking his head down a bit and peeking up at Hanzo through those thick lashes of his.

There’s no way to stop the surge of affection that wells up within him at hearing that confession. His words set him alight with butterflies in his midsection and electricity under his skin, settling at the base of his neck in a lovely buzz that makes him dizzy. For a while now . Of course it’s been like this for some time. Hanzo feels like a fool for thinking Jesse McCree was anything other than head-over-heels in love with him, thinking back on all the signs that pointed towards what he’s been denying for months now. All the there’s no ways and it can’t be me he’s thought over the past few months… Hah . He won’t deny it any longer, not when he has Jesse pinned to the bed underneath him, looking up at him like he’s the best damn thing that’s ever happened to him. Hanzo knows his expression shows much the same.

“It is the same for me, Jesse.” One confession begets another. It wouldn’t be fair not to tell Jesse just how he feels about him. He drags his fingers down the front of Jesse’s chest, toying with the whorls of dark hair that cover his skin as he bats his eyelashes coquettishly down at him. “As for your Valentine’s day plans, how about we make tonight special, with just the two of us, hmm?”  

McCree beams up at him, a giddy grin splitting his features at the same time he worms a thick thigh between his legs, giving Hanzo something to grind against, which he’s incredibly grateful for. His neglected cock sorely needs the friction. Hanzo rolls his hips as he braces himself against the bed, hands on either side of Jesse’s head. Like this, he can watch McCree, can see his eyes wide and locked onto his face, and knows the gunslinger is watching him come undone.

“Gods, yer a sight,” Hanzo hears Jesse say just as he feels his hands settle, one hot and the other cold, on his hips. He huffs with a smile, hips undulating against the limb trapped between his thighs. Every slide of his cock against the thick appendage sends tendrils of shocking heat up his spine. It’s only when he leans in and kisses Jesse hard does the man beneath him actually move again. The way McCree’s fingers dig scrabble at his top, fingers both metal and flesh connecting with his skin as he pulls the offending garment up, has Hanzo’s insides twisting deliciously.

He pushes himself up to throw his top off when Jesse hikes it up to bunch under his arms, exposing his overheated skin to the chill of the room. Britain is cold this time of year and it shows in how Hanzo’s nipples are already perking up, the silver bars punched through each of them shining in the low light of the room. Good , he thinks to himself at seeing Jesse red-faced and staring at his chest beneath him. It’s certainly not the first time he’s seen these, right? Hanzo wears tight shirts around base and frequents the communal bathrooms after sessions at the gym often enough that Jesse should have absolutely seen them by now. Perhaps he’s looking like that because they’re within reach and ripe for being played with.

“Jesus Christ,” McCree moans out, his voice choked in his throat, and that’s all the warning Hanzo gets before he’s being yanked down and pulled forward on Jesse’s leg so his chest is within reach of McCree’s questing lips. Within seconds, one of his pierced nipples is in Jesse’s mouth, an eager tongue swirling around it, and Hanzo is pressing his knee against the thick length of the cowboy’s cock in his sweats. It’s only fair, considering the limb between his legs that he’s pushing eagerly against. And, by the way Jesse jerks and rolls his hips against Hanzo’s knee, the gesture is more than appreciated.

After that, the two of them devolve into a mess of moans that sound far too loud in the confines of the concrete safehouse and the slick noise of Jesse sucking on his nipples and kissing wetly across his chest. He should find it gross, find that noise to be obscene, but every sound he hears sends spikes of arousal to his cock. It throbs and twitches, begging for more more more . The most he can give it is rolls of his hips against the thick leg trapped between his own, all while McCree assaults his chest with nips and bites and kisses so damningly hot that Hanzo fears he’ll be nothing but ash by the end of this.

He finds he doesn’t quite mind that thought.

Jesse, bless him, takes mercy on Hanzo by pulling off his spit-slick, bitten and marked chest with one last kiss to his collarbone. He leans back from him to inspect his handiwork. Hanzo watches his abused lips curl into a wicked smile, watches those amber eyes with pupils blown so wide that they’re practically black flick along the expanse of his pectorals, and feels a shiver roll up from the base of his spine all the way to the top of his head. Jesse looks at him like he’s a feast laid out just for him and he wants to be devoured so badly by the man beneath him.

But he won’t let him be the only one taking a bite.

“McCree,” he breathes out in a voice far more wrecked than it has any right to be, considering how they’ve not done that much yet. Wide eyes meet his as Jesse physically jerks at the sudden call of his name. Hanzo smirks down at him and digs his knee into his crotch just a bit more, just enough to feel the thick cock throb against him, even through two layers of fabric. He wants to feel it, wants to taste it, wants it to–

“I want you to fuck me.”

The vein on the side of Jesse’s neck jumps. His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat as he swallows in a way that would be audible if Hanzo’s blood wasn’t rushing in his ears. His hands tighten in their hold on Hanzo’s hips.

Oh, he’s interested.

Hanzo pushes himself up, shifting so his hands aren’t pressed against the bed on either side of Jesse’s head as they were, and looks down at McCree from where he’s sitting up straight now. “You want to fuck me too.”

It’s not a question but Jesse nods jerkily anyways.

Hanzo smirks down at him and uses one hand to push his hair all to one side while he sinks the other into the front of his sweats. He makes sure Jesse is watching the descent of his hand into the waistband before he says, “I know you keep lube on you, cowboy.”

McCree’s eyes snap up to his face just as blood visibly rushes his cheeks, taking the ruddy, lusty heat of his face to an embarrassed flush within seconds. “Wh–”  

“The third flashbang on your belt– it’s just a cannister you leave emergency cigars, a lighter, cinnamon candies, and a small bottle of lube in. For what, I have no idea, but I’m not going to interrogate you on it if you get up and go get it.”

“‘S for the joints on my a–”

Now , McCree.”

Jesse doesn’t need to be told three times, apparently. Hanzo slips back enough so the cowboy can get up and awkwardly waddle over to where he’d left his belt. In the meantime, Hanzo takes the time to slip his sweats and underwear off, leaving them in a pile on the otherwise clean floor. Even though he just swept this place top to bottom, he’ll definitely be throwing any clothes that touched the ground into the wash the minute they get home. Hanzo won’t be risking putting on the garments if any of the creatures from the disgusting bathroom make it out and decide to find a new domain in their clothes.

Hanzo leans back against the bed, stretched out on it like a languid cat despite the energy thrumming in his veins. He feels like he’s going to vibrate out of his skin with everything that’s happened so far tonight. Jesse reciprocates his feelings, apparently, and they’re about to have sex for the first time sober. He’s not sure how much drunk Hanzo got but that bitch doesn’t remember any of it so Hanzo is taking the liberty of counting tonight as his and McCree’s first time together.

By the time McCree comes back with a half-full bottle of lube (that, by the label, is absolutely not used for joints on his mechanical arm) held in his hand, Hanzo has taken the liberty of wrapping one hand around his cock and slowly stroking himself. Not enough to get off, of course, just enough to keep himself hard and to give him something to do with his hands. Well, one of them, at the least. The other is pinching and plucking at one of his reddened nipples, twisting the sensitive flesh with thumb and forefinger pressed to either side of the bar pierced through it.

Oh , fuckin’ Hell, yer tryin’ to kill me, ain’t ya, Hanzo?” He hears Jesse say in a choked voice after a ragged, sharp inhale.

“No, I’m trying to get you to get a move on and fuck me, Jesse McCree.” Hanzo quips back as he turns his head to look at McCree. The man is standing there, staring at him, frozen in place with the bottle of lube clenched tight in his flesh hand. Hanzo’s grateful it isn’t his prosthetic– nothing like an exploding bottle of lube to really ruin the mood.

The only problem Hanzo has with Jesse standing there, raking his eyes along his form and breathing ragged, is that he’s not touching him, not giving him what he’s wanted for so damn long now that he’d kill a man for it. That man will be Jesse McCree if he continues to stare at him with his mouth hanging open, like a fish out of water. He scoffs inside, wondering where exactly the confident man that left all these marks on his chest went in the span of a few seconds.

“Who was that Jesse that left the bed just a moment ago?” Hanzo teases. Jesse tenses up, brows furrowing as he snaps his jaw shut with an audible click. Hanzo swipes his thumb over the tip of his cock, finger digging into the slit and smearing the pre-come that had just beaded there along it. He twists his nipple and over exaggerates the gasp that he pulls from himself at the action. He makes sure to arch his back, to show off the ample swell of his pectorals that he can guess Jesse loves very much . Hanzo isn’t one to turn down the chance to put on a show.

McCree watches him with a desperate look in his eyes all the while but doesn’t make a move to join him. And, even though Hanzo loves being watched like this by a man he’s been interested in for months now, he wants him to quit standing there and hurry up .

Hanzo Shimada will not be denied this– not when it’s so close and he’s gotten a taste of it.

“Tell me, Jesse McCree– surely you aren’t getting cold feet now?”

Some good old-fashioned goading seems to be all that McCree needed, if the way he physically shakes himself out of his stupor and stalks forward is any indication. Hanzo watches, anticipation coursing through his veins in equal parts ice and fire, as Jesse tosses the bottle of lube on the bed and yanks his sweats down to pool at his ankles. Hanzo feels his mouth start to water at the sight before him.

His thick cock, far too heavy to stand up on its own, sways enticingly in between his legs. It’s rock hard and dark, protruding from a thicket of untamed dark-brown pubes. Hanzo briefly wonders how in the hell Jesse McCree can stand walking around with something so big in his pants but decides he doesn’t want to delve into the logistics of it, not when Jesse is grabbing his cock and stepping out of his discarded pants and towards the bed.

A prosthetic hand tangles in his hair before he can even realize it, too concerned with how Jesse is getting closer and the cock he’s been dying to remember for weeks now is within his reach. He doesn’t mind the slight pain as Jesse pulls him back by the grip he has on his hair. In fact, he welcomes it. It burns in all the right ways.

McCree stares down at him with eyes dark, brows furrowed. Hanzo watches him in return. The air between them is tense with something that he cannot quite place but if he thinks this is going where he wants it to go… Gods, the thought has his insides twisting in such a delectable manner. Hanzo waits for McCree to make the first move staring up at him and savoring the light throbbing of his scalp from the pain of having his hair pulled.

“How’s about,” Hanzo watches Jesse say after he licks his lips and sucks in a bracing breath, “You put that lil’ sassy mouth of yours to better use?”

“Yes, Sir,” Hanzo says without a second thought. Jesse chuckles at his eagerness and shifts forward, cock held up in his hand and pointed at Hanzo’s face in such a delicious way. He wants to surge forward and get his mouth around it, to lose himself to the musky scent and heady flavor he knows is waiting for him. Before he can do so, though, Jesse drums his fingers against the back of his head while humming to get his attention.

“Oh, and why don’t you prep yourself while you’re at it, sugar?”

Hanzo loves that look in his eyes. He doesn’t even think about denying him. He’s got the bottle of lube in his hands and is popping the cap in an instant, all while shifting onto his knees.

“My pleasure.”

Jesse coos, “Good boy,” down at him just as he presses the tip of his cock against Hanzo’s lips. He opens up for him easily while slicking up the fingers of his right hand at the same time. At the same time he feels a piercing he did not remember Jesse having during their last encounter press against his lips, he reaches behind himself and sinks his index finger inside.

McCree doesn’t demand anything else of him as Hanzo goes through the motions of prepping himself. The surprise he felt as Jesse’s unexpected intimate jewelry passes in an instant. What decoration he does or does not have on his cock is of no concern to him– what does concern him is getting as much of it in his mouth (and, if he must, his throat) as he can get. It serves as a good distraction from the menial but necessary task of spreading himself open enough to accommodate Jesse’s thick cock.

By the time he’s sunk a third and hopefully final finger into himself, he’s making the most obscene noises around Jesse’s cock, which he’s found to have a delightfully even amount of four frenum piercings, all along the underside of the shaft. He can’t help but shudder thinking of how they’ll feel pressing into his hole with every time they catch on the tight circle of his lips. He bobs his head and sucks on Jesse’s prick, thumb and forefinger of his left hand pressed against his pubic bone, framing the base of his cock.

Despite his best efforts, he can’t quite manage to take him all the way to the root, though he’ll make it his mission to work on it once they get back to base. He’ll be needing plenty of practice– Jesse surely won’t mind.

It’s only when the aching need for more becomes too apparent– and Jesse’s breathing quickens in a way that Hanzo is pretty sure means he’s getting close– that Hanzo pulls his fingers out of himself and his head off of Jesse’s cock. A thin string of precome and spit connect his lips with McCree’s dick still– he can see it, glistening in the low light of the room. It would disgust him, had Hanzo had any shame left. What a shame that’s all dead and gone.

“I’m assumin’ yer ready then?” Jesse asks, voice hoarse from the constant moans and praises he’d been letting out while Hanzo was giving him a blowjob. Hanzo, not trusting his voice to not also be wrecked from said blowjob, nods up at McCree. Frankly, he’s been ready for a while now, but demanding McCree rush would just have resulted in them both being uncomfortable for far too long during penetration. Better to have taken his time with it, no matter what his impatient body had to say about it.

Hanzo wipes his hand on the new sheets with only a twinge of guilt for doing so as he goes to lay back down on the hard mattress. Jesse scoops up the discarded bottle of lube off the mattress, squirts a generous amount into his hand, and tosses it behind him in an unknown direction. He’s quick but thorough in slicking up his dick, hurried in such a way that he looks as if he’s going to rub his dick clean off. Hanzo barks out a laugh at his overeager behavior, though it lasts not even ten seconds before he feels the blunt, blood-hot head of Jesse’s cock pressing insistently against his freshly prepped entrance.

He hadn’t woken up after their drunken tryst to the familiar soreness of being fucked, nor the taste of cock on his tongue, so he can only assume they had enough sense of mind to sloppily jerk each other off before McCree stumbled out of his room. So the way that Jesse feels, stretching him to his limits as he sinks into him, is an entirely new sensation for him in that he’s never felt it with McCree before.

Hanzo Shimada is no blushing, bumbling virgin, but even he’s never taken a cock this big before. Maybe he’s looked at a toy or three online that were this big but he’s never bought one, never used it. And even if he had, it wouldn’t have felt like this– no toy can compare to the real thing.

So hot, so big, twitching in his hole, as Jesse sinks ever deeper into him. The roll of piercings against his insides is also new and Hanzo finds he quite likes it. No, scratch that– he loves it. It’s an odd sensation but nothing he’ll complain about, not when they slide against his sensitive walls just so .

With a man as big as Jesse McCree, he has to gently thrust into him to open him up. It takes a few minutes to fuck the shape of his cock into him, to get him to open up enough so that he can get as deep as possible, but, Gods , the feeling is well worth the wait. Hanzo finds himself throwing his head back on a cut off moan of Jesse’s name when he finally, finally presses their hips flush together, as far inside him as he can possibly go.

“Christ,” Jesse sounds like he’s run a marathon when he speaks, and Hanzo can barely hear him over the sound of his own heartbeat in his eardrums, “Yer fuckin’ tight , Han. Ain’t nobody been doin’ this to you recently, have they? Nobody been treatin’ you right?”

“I’ve had maybe one fully penetrative sexual encounter in the past five years,” Hanzo admits, breathless, as Jesse hooks his hands under his knees and uses the grip he has on them to push them towards his chest, “And I believe they were half your size, and that’s being generous.” Jesse, bless him, barks out a laugh and grins down at Hanzo in such an adoring manner that his heart– which is racing at a mile a minute– skips several beats in pure joy. Hanzo continues on, wanting that sweet expression to stay on him for as long as possible. “My hand and my toy can only do so much, McCree.”

“Mmm, like the way you say my name,” Jesse purrs as he leans down, pushing Hanzo’s legs closer to his chest and bending him in such a delicious way. He feels the strain in his quads, the slight twinge of pain at being contorted into a position he’s not usually in. Hanzo loves it. Loves the lascivious look McCree’s giving him even more than that, and the way his face is getting closer to his. “Gonna make you scream it in a second,” Jesse whispers against his lips before taking Hanzo’s lower lip between his teeth and dragging it back. He can’t help the shuddering inhale he sucks in at that while winding his arms around Jesse’s neck, keeping him close.

McCree makes good on his promise. Hanzo can’t even find a way to quip back at Jesse (probably something about daring him to make him scream, or something along those lines– Hanzo can’t really think too well with so many pleasurable sensations assaulting him at the moment) before the man is drawing his hips back. The drag of his cock out of him is just as erotic as when he pushed into him, and it’s even better when he snaps his hips forward, punching the air out of Hanzo’s lungs and sending a delicious stab of arousal through his midsection.

From there, he’s merciless. He uses his grip on the back of Hanzo’s thighs (that Gods he hopes will bruise) to keep him steady as he fucks into him. Never one to keep things boring, he switches up his pace from time to time, between rabbit-quick thrusts while he’s deep inside of him to slow rolls of his hips, drawing his cock out as far as he can while still remaining inside of him before he slides right on in, back where he belongs. It’s driving him nuts, along with the way Jesse kisses at his neck hotly and whispers the most obscene things in his ear or against his kiss-bruised lips whenever he can.

“Feels like you were made to take my cock, darlin’.”

“Such a pretty thing with yer mouth around my dick.”

“Can’t wait to fill this lil’ hole of yours up with all my come, baby.”

Every salacious word only serves to twist the coil in his midsection tighter and tighet. Hanzo is dying, he’s sure of it, because his cock is leaking so steadily and he swears he feels every thrust in his very soul at this point, but he still hasn’t come . Gods, he just– he wants to, he needs to, swears he can feel McCree throbbing incessantly inside of him and knows he has to be close by now. There’s no way he can last much longer after all they’ve done leading up to this.

He finds he’s correct in that assumption when Jesse’s breathing suddenly becomes sharp and short, hiccupy moans escaping him as he shifts to brace both knees on the bed. “So close,” he feels more than hears breathed against his lips before they’re kissing and McCree is quickening his pace. He practically mounts him, fucks into him like a man possessed, the smack of their hips together practically deafening in the small room, and Hanzo, he’s– He’s–

Jesse slips his tongue into Hanzo’s mouth just as the coil snaps.

He feels electricity crackle up his spine. Every muscle tenses. His toes curl as his fingernails dig into Jesse’s back. And he comes across his stomach in spurts just as Hanzo feels Jesse groan into his mouth and the rush of something else other than his dick filling him up.

He could get addicted to this quite easily if he’s not careful. Might end up falling in love with the way Jesse moans out a mantra of his name as he rocks against him, cock and come filling him up to the brim and then some. He swears he can already feel some of his load dripping out of him, considering it has no where else to go as Jesse’s dick has taken up the rest of the space inside of him.

They lay there, breathing in each other and slowly kissing as they wind down from the sense of post-coital bliss. Hanzo is 75% sure McCree is complimenting him, whispering something about how pretty and perfect he is between their sloppy kisses. And, while both of those things are true, Hanzo’s not in much of a state of mind to be able to pay much attention to anything other than Jesse’s softening cock inside of him and the way he kisses so sweetly, like this is the last time they’ll do so.

It’s only when Hanzo cannot ignore the drying come on his chest and Jesse’s dick finally slips out of him do either of them bother to move.

McCree, the gentleman that he is, recognizes that Hanzo is in absolutely no position to move at the moment, and struggles onto his feet. His walk is wobbly-kneed (Hanzo preens silently at that) but he manages to go to the counter where the paper towels are left, and he scoops them up with a purpose. Hanzo lays there on the filthy sheets as Jesse takes his time wiping up as much bodily fluids as he can with the paper towel roll, before he tosses the soiled napkins in the direction of the rubbish bin and leaves the remainder of the paper towels on the floor beside the bed.

Hanzo accepts Jesse’s weight as the man crawls back into bed with him, his flesh arm wrapped around his midsection and head pillowed on his chest. They’ll have a lot to discuss in the morning, he knows that. The specifics of their relationship, what they’re going to call each other from now on, if they’ll go public with it or not. But right now, Hanzo is content to card his fingers through Jesse’s hair and listen to his breathing even out and deepen. This is all he needs, just for tonight.