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Chapter Text

“Zenyatta…”

Genji tenses up as the enormous Ravager traces Zenyatta’s jaw with one finger. Zenyatta seems to pity him; his head tilts to one side as he cups his angular faceplate, and Ramattra leans into it, melting into his touch with such astounding ease. Interesting, how not even the most skilled warriors can kill a Ravager, but Zenyatta, ever peaceful, can completely dismantle him without raising a hand. 

“Zenyatta, please,” he moans, completely distraught. His voice trembles in a way Genji doesn't expect. “Do not leave me, beloved. Not again.”

He laughs, pretty as a bell. “I will come back, Ramattra. I shouldn’t be gone but for a few hours.”

“Mere minutes feel like eternity without you.”

Genji huffs. It seems like both of them have a passion for speaking in prose. 

“I will return, and we will spend the rest of the night together. As long as you wish.”

The lights of his array flare as he tilts up his chin and presses them against his forehead. Blue against red, they blink in sequence. An Omnic kiss. 

“I’d like that very much, my dear,” he utters tenderly. 

His hands clasp together behind his neck, under the ribbon cables on his crown. “Then you’ll have me. But my duties lie with Overwatch. They need me.”

“Master,” Genji speaks. Ramattra seems to stiffen and draw himself up in response to the sound. “You need to go.”

“Why don’t you two spend some time together?”

Genji looks at Ramattra. Ramattra looks at him. 

“If that’s what you want.” The Ravager is obviously not very fond of him. 

That’s fine. Genji doesn’t like him, either. 

But Zenyatta knows best, I suppose.

“I must go now, brother, but I will be back soon enough.”

“I hope so.”

Zenyatta bids them farewell. But not before sharing hugs with each of them, forcing them close together. Genji can feel the heat of Ramattra’s exhaust pipes blasting onto his sides. The warmth would be comforting, were it not for the aura of discord emanating off of him.

Ramattra looks at him and seems tense. 

Genji doesn’t know what to do. Zenyatta has always been incredibly attuned to the emotions of others, even the invulnerable ones. Surely he knows that the two of them aren’t exactly on steady ground with each other. But he would certainly be heartbroken if they disliked each other, and the last thing he wants to do is hurt his master. So Genji elects to open the floodgates and try to bridge the cold gap between them. 

“So you led Zenyatta to the monastery?”

He only realizes after that Ramattra might not want to talk about his past with Zenyatta. Then again, there’s only one way to find out, and now is his chance to try and figure out what their relationship is .

Not that it isn’t obvious. Details.

“I did,” Ramattra answers stiffly. 

“And mentored him? For how long?”

“Many years.”

Maybe inflating his ego will open a path for him to take. 

“He’s a great fighter. Hard to beat. You must be a formidable force in battle.”

“So I am told.”

Maybe not.

There’s silence for a moment after. Genji averts his eyes. 

“I have heard the same of you,” he says quietly. 

His synth is low, as if he were saying it under his breath and had not intended for Genji to hear. But he hears regardless.

He huffs. “I would hope so. I have been training my entire life, and would be sorely disappointed in myself if I were not a daunting foe by now.”

He knew he was. Zenyatta often told him, and he was far from the only one; pretty much everyone had positive things to say about his skills in battle. But as always, he was his own harshest critic.

Ramattra finally turns to face him wholly. “I’ll spar with you sometime.”

Genji is surprised at the genuine amusement in his synth. “I’ll have to take you up on that.”

~~~

“Your body.”

“Hm?”

Ramattra is peering at him intently, scanning him up and down. Genji can almost feel his eyes sliding across each metal panel and over his wires. It sends a strange and warm sensation over him. 

“What happened to you?” he asks. “Surely you were not made that way.”

He shakes his head. “No. I nearly died, and my body had to be rebuilt.”

“How unfortunate. It must have been quite a struggle getting used to it.”

“It took me a long time to grow comfortable in this body, yes. I spent many nights hating what I had become and struggling with my own existence. But through the Shambali, through Zenyatta, I have found peace.” 

There is amusement in his synth when he next speaks. “He has blessed us both in that way, I suppose.”

They sit there in silence for a long moment. Genji listens to the satisfying click of his mechanical parts, the hiss of his exhaust pipes. His eyes continue assessing him, sliding over his chest and arms, examining his struts. His gaze is intense, and he suddenly feels very hot. 

“I suppose you wish to inspect me.”

He barks a laugh. “It is tempting. Your technological makeup is unlike anything I’ve ever seen, and I have always learned best with my hands.”

Genji looks at his hands. They’re enormous, far larger and bulkier than his. Strong enough to rip him clean in half, too.

He doesn’t like Ramattra. Doesn’t like the thought of his hands roaming over him, not nearly as merciful or friendly as Angela. He knows that Zenyatta would like them to get along, but surely this isn’t the only way to do it. There are other ways to bridge that gap. Zenyatta of all people would understand Genji forgoing an activity he is uncomfortable with; he worked for many long, fruitless hours trying to get him out of his shell. 

But he has always enjoyed learning about his new mechanical body. There are no better minds than those of the engineers and mechanics that built him. He vaguely remembers the muffled sounds of their voices whispering over him, gushing over their newest work. A cyborg, a human machine. Isn’t that part of friendship, showing interest in their hobbies? 

“I’ll allow it.”

“Are you certain?”

He’s aware of how invasive it can be. It can be personal, deadly, or even pleasurable under different circumstances. All it would take is a single misstep to damage him beyond repair. 

Or draw him towards something else.

Not that he’s ever experimented with his own wires that way, let alone allowed someone else to do it. 

He doesn’t fully trust Ramattra. He can’t, knowing what he’s done. But Zenyatta trusts him, and despite his optimism and hope, he isn’t naive. He doesn’t trust blindly. His trust is like a gold star, and Ramattra might as well be collecting them from him at this point. He can’t trust him, but he can tolerate him. Any friend of Zenyatta is a friend of Genji, right?

(Friend? Lover? Teacher? What are they?)

He crosses his legs in front of him in a lotus position and bows his head for Ramattra, exposing his spine. “Go on.”

The Ravager hesitates for a moment longer. He listens to him breathe before shivering when his hands gently stroke his spinal plates. 

“It is quite beautiful craftsmanship,” he says. “I must admit, I’ve been admiring it for quite some time.”

“I agree.” His voice is more breathless than he’d like.

Fingertips dance across his shoulder blades and spinal struts. He feels his blades gently removed from his back and set aside, not without great care. Genji has to force himself to breathe when Ramattra squeezes his shoulders and neck, warmth ebbing out of his palms and into his aching silicone muscles. He mutters to himself absently, counting in sequences and taking note of the unusual. The ninja listens with interest and amusement. 

Sensors are toyed with as he explores his shoulder blades. His fingers dip into little crevices, navigating exhaust pipes, prying into the little nooks between plates. Genji leans side to side, forward and backward, to grant him access.

His hands travel a bit lower, to his mid back, and spread out like spillage. “I wonder…”

Buttons are pressed. Genji gasps as cold air washes over his back, the spinal plates receding to expose the remains of his pale, blemished skin. Ramattra’s cold fingertips trace the edges of his armor and make him shiver again. 

“Clever,” he whispers. “You’re a fast learner.”

“It is your master who taught me observance.”

His back isn’t composed of flesh anymore. Much of it is a hollow, synthetic carbon fiber shell lined with silicone and wiring, boned with steel. Now that the wires are exposed, Genji is a lot more receptive to his touch. Ramattra brushes against his back, strokes little cords here and there, and merely explores. Genji finds himself jumping sometimes, jolting up and twitching when he touches some things. A warm sensation pools in his stomach. His face goes ruddy.

“I gather by your responses that you do not often expose yourself this way.”

“No..”

“How does it feel?”

He grows absorbed in the way his hands gently dance across his shoulders and down his spine to his hips and back again. He whimpers in a broken way, tries to suppress his trembling, and can’t. Doesn’t want to.

“I-It feels…good.”

“Some find it invasive,” Ramattra says. “Let me know if you want me to stop.”

“Don’t stop.”

“You like it?”

He strokes his wires experimentally. Genji trembles.

“Yes,” he says. 

He’s surprised at his own desperation. Ramattra’s hands leave him for but a moment and he whines in earnest, shoulders tensing up. Luckily, the Ravager is surprisingly generous; he is very thorough in his examination, slow and calculating, with the methodical presence of an enchanted engineer. He doesn’t comment on the way Genji squirms, coming undone in his hands. His cooling systems kick up in an effort to water down the flames in his chest. His hands clench and unclench on his knees.

Either he is extremely sensitive, or Ramattra is incredibly skilled with his hands. 

Makes him wonder how good it must feel when he’s purposefully stroking his cords. 

Ramattra pauses and chuckles at the disappointed noise he makes. “I suppose I can almost understand Zenyatta’s fondness for you.” One more gentle tease. One more twitch. “You’re almost cute.”

“ Thanks ,” he grumbles. 

“Ah, where does this little wire go?”

He traces its length down his back and towards the dimple of his tailbone. Genji jolts, and Ramattra moves a hand to support his lower back. His palms are warm and hold firm. He finds himself trusting him a little more. He relaxes into his grip and leans more into the pleasure.

He traces the cord down, and with a little twist of his fingertips, Genji’s modesty panel recedes.

“Ah.”

He isn’t sure whether that noise comes from Ramattra or himself. 

“Oh, of course you have a penis. You had a human body. They would want to create it faithful to the original, wouldn’t they?”

Genji doesn’t respond. He is far too in shock to say anything.

Ramattra has his head on his shoulder, peering over it, examining his fully aroused cock, albeit with a clinical eye. He’s mortified .

“So aroused,” he remarks. “Have you never toyed with your own wires?”

“N-No…” 

While he is surprised at how quickly he had succumbed to the pleasure, he feels no desire to cover himself up or stop this. It’s been so long since he’s felt this good, and he wants to feel it harder. The discomfort begins to bleed away.

“Does the length of this penis match that of your previous body?”

“In large part, yes,” he replies.

“Do you have an entrance as well?”

“Yes.”

Ramattra’s tone is suddenly lower. His deep voice rumbles sensually in his audio sensors, vibrating the metal. “Why is that?” he asks. “Surely you don’t produce waste.”

“For…pleasure, I suppose. A-And out of faithfulness to the original.”

“I understand you humans are quite protective of your genitals. I won’t touch where you do not desire.”

He’s struck by that. Ramattra wants to explore him, even there, and is asking permission to do so.

Why, then, does he nod his head? “You may touch me anywhere, so long as it feels like this.”

Little shivers race up his spine as Ramattra scoots him back a little bit, lifting him by his waist. He’s so tiny compared to the Ravager. He picks him up effortlessly, like a sack of flour.

“Very well.” His faceplate tips to one side. “Would you prefer a more private setting?” he asks with a chuckle. “I would not want to bare your interior to any unsuspecting visitors.”

“Y-Yes, that would be highly preferable.”

Something about the thought of Ramattra spreading him open to examine his insides makes his liquid cooling system kick up a notch.

(He’s fantasizing about him now? Iris, forgive him.)

His legs are shaky when he swings them over the side of the table and stands. His entire body is trembling, electricity arcing across his wires. He’s almost ashamed; a mighty warrior, ever strong in the face of such atrocities, felled by a sensual touch. Pathetic. Perhaps this is a skill he can hone.

Then again, it wasn’t even sensual, was it? Ramattra was an engineer, a mechanic fascinated by the construction of his metal body, and merely sought to explore. That was all.

Was it?

As Genji guides him hastily to his room, he asks the Ravager “Is touching one’s wiring… supposed to feel so pleasurable?”

(Lubricant is collecting at his entrance and slowly leaking down his inner thighs. It’s never done that before.)

“It can,” Ramattra replies. His tone is abnormally gravelly. “It depends on the sensitivity of the recipient and the skill of the explorer. I was not trying to bring you pleasure. You must be exceptionally sensitive, or inexperienced.” He sighs and laughs. “Zenyatta was the same way when I first performed maintenance on him.”

Genji elects to completely ignore the thought of Ramattra exploring his master’s body (for now). 

“I have not ever been touched that way while conscious. They feared the wires would electrocute me, and always sedated me to perform maintenance.”

“So this would be your first time?”

“Yes.”

“Ah, that would explain it.” 

Genji’s room is very plain. It has merely a twin mattress, dresser, and bathroom. He doesn’t have many belongings. Ramattra, as complex as he is, looks very out of place.

“On the bed, if you please.”

Genji does as he’s told, albeit hesitantly. 

Ramattra seems to notice this hesitance as he crouches on the floor beside the bed. “Do you not wish to continue?”

“I do,” he mutters. “It just…are you trying to woo me now, or still simply exploring?”

The Ravager laughs, though it is not as hearty and loud as his other laughs. “‘Woo’ might be a bit strong. I was not trying to seduce you initially, but now you are very clearly aroused and, as you have stated, have never experienced sexual gratification in this body. I feel obligated to help.”

“You don’t have to,” Genji says firmly. 

Ramattra’s hand settles on his leg and stills him. 

“I want to.”

He traces the synthetic muscle. Genji relaxes into the gentle dance of his fingers, breath quickening, as they make a path up his inner thigh. 

“You do not have Zenyatta’s appeal, but you are quite alluring nonetheless.”

His voice has that gravelly lisp again. “And what do you get out of it?”

“A glimpse into technology I have not yet explored. The fruition of an experiment.”

He palms Genji between his legs. He gasps, back arching.

“And my own pleasure.”

Ramattra cups his genitals. His hand is large enough to tease the tip of his dick with his thumb while simultaneously tracing the slick green ridge of his exterior gate. Genji struggles to close his legs with the weight and width of his arm between them, so he opens them wider instead, giving the war machine more room to work. Ramattra hums appreciatively and spreads his thighs with his other hand. 

Genji gasps. His back is arching terribly into the bed, fingers grasping at the sheets, threatening to tear. His breath and sweat is beginning to condense on his visor, so he locks it onto his forehead instead. It offers him a clearer view of Ramattra as he methodically strokes his turgid length up and down. His fingertips catch on the ridges of his cock and slick themselves on lubricant. He can hardly stand to watch, so he turns his face into the mattress instead. 

“Mmh,” he rumbles. “You are quite cute, Genji.”

“A-Am I-?”

He laughs fondly with a few quick tugs on his dick, making him moan wildly each time. “Yes. Look at how needy you are. Your hips are machines on their own, the way they fly up to meet me when I touch you.”

Ramattra stops the motions of his hand. Automatically, without a given command, Genji’s hips thrust brokenly into his grip, desperate for friction, bracing his legs on the bed to bridge the distance. It makes his legs quiver with the effort, and Ramattra pities him, pressing him back down and bearing down on his penis again. 

“About time I encountered another automatic sexual response system,” he mutters, tone begrudging. “All the other Omnics I have toyed with have manual response systems. Quite slow, and I dislike the halt of progress.”

“A-Another-?” he sputters. “You h-have genitals?”

“I do. I was born with a mix of reused blueprints. The model used for my pelvis happened to include an entrance, shaft, and modesty panel, and since the Omnium was abundant with those parts, Anubis felt no need to exclude them.”

(He wants to see his shaft and feel it inside of him, explore him the way he is being explored. But he decides against voicing those wishes for now.)

“I am aroused,” he adds. “If you are interested in seeing.”

( You read my mind. )

“I-I think I would like that…”

He somehow completely misses the notion that the show he’s putting on is arousing to the Ravager.

Ramattra chuckles again. “I know you humans appreciate reciprocation during sex. If it makes you more comfortable, I will expose myself as well.”

He admits it now. They’re having sex. Genji finds he doesn’t mind the thought as much as he would have a few hours ago.

“Wait.”

Ramattra pauses. Ever patient, just like his previous student.

“Zenyatta…”

He doesn’t know what his relationship is with his master. The two of them are very affectionate with each other, and intimate as far as he can tell. But they haven’t been together for years. He doesn’t want to ruin his relationship with Zenyatta, or Ramattra’s. A heartbroken Zenyatta is not something he ever wants to witness.

He chuckles. “You care deeply for him, don’t you?”

“As do you. I don’t want to hurt him.”

“And you won’t,” he says. “We are affectionate with one another, yes, but we have an explicitly open relationship with one another. I wouldn’t even go so far as to label us lovers except for simplicity. I have explored other options, as I’m sure he has, as well.”

He sighs. “I’ve been…wondering about that.”

“You aren’t the only one, I suppose. Yes, we were very close in the monastery, but we never sought to apply human labels to our relationship. Now that we’ve reconnected, we apply the same rules; We simply…are. That is that.”

Genji nods, his uneasiness relieved. That’s all he needed to know. 

“Are you fit to continue?”

“Yes. Go on.”

His modesty panel (not terribly hidden like Zenyatta’s or Genji’s are) recedes, and his enormous segmented cock springs to attention in its wake. It is huge and pitch black and intimidating, just like the rest of him. 

“You may touch me anywhere you like,” he says. “Just to be fair.”

Genji springs on the opportunity. He leans forward and takes him in hand, rubbing over his gigantic length and squeezing. Ramattra stiffens with a deep inhale, but does nothing to stop him. Lubricant leaks out onto his hand and spills between his fingers. He lets out a tiny little grunt for his efforts.

“Mmh…”

Genji teases him too. He stops the motion of his hand and merely holds him. Ramattra whines, and he moves to pick up the slack, bracing himself against the bed frame so he can thrust slowly into his grip, tearing a groan from him at each stroke. 

“Ugh. Right there…”

His hand gently closes around his wrist and keeps him still. The rapid motion of his cock slings lubricant across his lap and bedsheets, his hands clenching and unclenching as he throws his head back. Ribbon cables spill out of his scarf and drape across his back and shoulders. 

“Good boy, Genji…”

“Get on the bed.”

“I’m not so sure it can handle my weight.”

“Try.”

He plants his left knee onto the bed. He groans, cock bobbing up into his stomach as he settles onto his arms. Crawling. The frame creaks under him, but does not give.

He nods. “It’ll hold, so long as we aren’t too…rambunctious.”

Genji’s eyes twinkle. “Leave the rambunctiousness to me.”

“Very well,” Ramattra says with equal mirth. “Would you like to see if-“

“-your dick will fit inside me? Very much.”

He chuckles darkly. “Perhaps we are more alike than I thought.”

Genji lays flat on his back and spreads his legs as wide as he can. By now, the insides of his thighs are slick with lubricant and his entrance is loose, ready to be penetrated. He never thought he’d be so receptive to sex, let alone with someone like Ramattra , but he doesn’t care for his pride right now. The Ravager spreads his legs, holding him firm by the ankles and scooting up so their pelvises meet. He scoops his hands under him and palms his buttocks, merely feeling him, and Genji encourages it by wrapping his arms around his neck.

They’re so close like this. He can feel every minute movement of his body. He can feel the warm kiss of burnt fuel blasting from his exhaust pipes. His body is warm, and he craves it.

“Please, Ramattra…”

“So needy,” he remarks with a laugh. “Give me a moment. I need to prepare you.”

He slides his hand down under his twitching cock and prods at his entrance. Slick moistens his fingertips and Genji gasps when he begins the slow slide into his clutch. His fingers dig into his shoulders as he pushes, tightening up around the intrusion. 

“Relax, Genji,” he whispers into his audio receiver. “I won’t fit anything inside of you if you are tense like this. Relax for me, and the pain will pass.”

“I-I could… ah ..loosen it m-manually…”

“But it won’t be pleasurable that way, trust me. Just relax.”

He sucks in a few deep breaths. Ramattra coos in his ear “Good boy, Genji. So good for me.” His fingertips finally slip in and the ninja gasps under him. He grabs the ribbon cables on his crown and pulls. “Keep breathing. Just a little more.”

He keeps gasping for breath, bowing out under Ramattra as his fingers press into his interior. His digits rub his insides and flip fiery switches inside of him, sparks of pleasure racing up his body. He screams his name out to the heavens, thankful for the soundproof walls. Pain begins to blend into pleasure, more lubricant added to ease the transition. 

“Such silky insides,” Ramattra comments, his tone professional. “I wonder if they truly emulate a human rectum. I’ve never fingered one of those before.”

Genji gasps as his knuckles press against his buttocks and hold fast. The two center fingers, middle and ring, have been taken to the knuckle and spread out to stretch him open. He’s trembling uncontrollably, spasming as he reaches the precipice of orgasm. 

“O- Oh god …Ramattra, Ramattra…” he chants. 

“Genji, Genji,” he whispers in reply. “I’ll push you over the edge, if that’s what you want.”

“I w-want to.. please …”

“Very well.” 

He draws his fingers out marginally before shoving them back in. His knuckles continue to spread him impossibly, and it’s the stretch that sends him into overdrive. He hears liquid rushing in his ears as his cooling system kicks into maximum power. His back arches, and he screams, spasming in the light of the evening sun through the window. It glistens off of his metal plates and blinds him like the golden halo that envelops him during his overload. Ramattra places his hand on his chest and guides him back down to the mattress. His chest flutters where he touches it, like wildflowers in his hands, like butterflies, and for the first time in a long time, he hears the ghost of his heart pounding in his head. The adrenaline crashes and all that remains is a delicious, soothing ache, like golden honey, settling over him. 

He pants for a long moment afterwards. Ramattra simply watches, still buried deep inside of him. He has difficulty catching his breath with the rest of his visor covering his mouth, so he removes that as well, his tongue hanging out, pale skin running red with embarrassment. 

“That was overload?”

He nods. “Yes. How did it feel?”

Genji closes his eyes, reminiscing of the fleeting taste of it. “ Incredible …”

“I would understand if your energy were too depleted to continue,” Ramattra says. His tone is amused yet sympathetic. “Overload can be, as the name implies, overwhelming , especially for a virgin.”

“No. I am fit to continue. It is only fair to bring you to overload as well.” Genji prides himself on his stamina as well as his skills. Now is the time to exercise it.

Truth be told, he is embarrassed that he had finished so quickly. Ramattra seems like an understanding individual, but he finds himself ashamed nonetheless. 

“Very well.”

He is nearly disturbed at the easy way Ramattra slides his slick fingers out of him. Cold air rushes into the cavity after him, immediately blocked by his dick as he lines it up to his gate. Genji whimpers; the thing is enormous at the initial touch. 

“Be at ease. I’ll be gentle, I promise.”

“I’m not worried about thAT-!” He is caught completely unawares when Ramattra thrusts, and he’s shoved halfway up the bed when he doesn’t open up to it. “ W-Wait! ”

He laughs very loudly. “Forgive me, I couldn’t resist.”

Genji grumbles under his breath. “I’m worried about ,” he says, accentuating each word. “You splitting me in half. I wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t been gentle already.”

“I won’t split you in half. Just relax, and let me in, and we won’t encounter any problems.”

He is more than eager to ‘let him in’. He spreads his legs as wide as they’ll go and invites Ramattra to continue. His grip closes around his waist, holding him down, pressing him onto his spear, and Genji acquiesces, squirming and keening as the pressure grows. He tries to keep his breathing steady and relaxed, but all of his progress shatters when the crown of Ramattra’s member finally pops into him. 

“Keep breathing,” the Ravager whispers. His synth is beginning to halt and stutter as he gives in to the pleasure. He continues pushing in, pulling Genji onto his cock little by little. “I’m almost there.”

He focuses more on his breathing and lets Ramattra take him. He’s twitching and moaning beyond help, back arching into his waiting grasp. Ramattra reaches down to stroke his length. Genji gasps, crying out in pleasure. He’s embarrassed by how close he is already, how easily it is to teeter over that razor’s edge. Ramattra’s member buried deep inside him, deeper than anything has ever gone, going deeper still as he thinks, his entire face exposed and red, squirming and writhing and moaning as he lays strung out under his eager touch. It’s all so intimate . More intimate than he’s ever been with anyone; even his friends, even Zenyatta, who he thinks knows him best. Just a few hours earlier, he would have said he despised Ramattra. Embarrassing. How the mighty fall. 

His shame overwhelms him as he turns his ruddy face into the sheets and closes his eyes, away from his partner. The Ravager takes hold of his dick and strokes him idly. He thrusts up into the fingers teasing his shaft. “D-Don’t!” he screams, even as he leans into it. “I-I’m about to..!”

“I want you to,” Ramattra says. “Come for me, Genji.”

That voice. Low and intense and intimate . It pushes him over the edge.

Ramattra finally hilts inside of him and grinds (he hadn’t even realized his progress had halted). His grip tightens on his dick. Genji moans brokenly and comes, spasming uncontrollably, back arching into his messy sheets. He’s still riding the faint high of his last overload, so when this one arrives he nearly loses his mind, so overwhelmed by the tingling sensation that rushes through his circuits. His head lolls and he merely lays there and pants.

Ramattra’s rumbling laugh brings him back to reality. “That makes twice now,” he says matter-of-factly. 

He glares at him with fatigue weighing on his plates. “Thanks for keeping track. Oh, god. ” His words fall flat as Ramattra sweeps up his release, metal and silicone sliding into his insides.

Warm, solid metal plating presses against his rear and Ramattra sighs. “Impressive,” he breathes. “You took every segment. You’re such a tiny thing, I thought you would have given up by now.”

Genji takes a moment to collect his breath. He feels like it’s been knocked out of him, even though he hasn’t suffered any blows. “I-I…I would never give up..so easily… ha …”

“Pace yourself, little dragon. I haven’t even started moving yet.”

He takes a better hold of Genji and strokes him idly, making him squirm. Already, his member twitches in interest. 

The ninja grabs Ramattra’s wrist and bites down on his tongue. “P-Please…don’t. I feel like my dick is about to fall off.”

The Ravager laughs heartily, but does as he asks. He braces himself against the headboard, looming over Genji, ribbon cables draping over his shoulders and framing his ivory faceplate. He looks so strangely beautiful, the evening sun a halo around his silhouette, and Genji finds it difficult to look away from him. He’s everywhere; above him, beneath him, inside him.

Ramattra wiggles and adjusts his hips. The movement loosens one of the segments of his dick and it comes free. Effortlessly, he slips it back inside, and the sensation sends a full-body shiver through him. 

His hands meander down from the bed’s frame and trace his metal pectorals. He strokes his shoulders and arms and stomach, exploring just like he had been earlier.

“Are you in any pain?”

“N-Not anymore..”

“Then you are prepared for me to move?”

“Yes. G-Go, before I lose my mind.”

He abruptly pulls out three segments in rapid succession before slipping them back inside. Genji moans, long and loud, completely cutting down his restraint as Ramattra looms over him, hands on either side of his head. He hears the bed creak as he picks up his pace. The motion becomes more and more seamless. The pair are a symphony of movement and rhythm, skin against metal, metal against skin.

Ramattra’s faceplate is static, and therefore doesn’t display any semblance of emotion. But he can hear his synth degrading and his ventilation kicking up. Genji can’t pick apart the sections of his shaft anymore; the whole thing is a single, turgid pillar that thrusts into him rapidly with little give, slicking its path with lubricant as it goes along. He wonders how experienced Ramattra is; looking at him through bleary eyes, Genji feels awash in the presence of a divinity, someone whose whole body moves as a singular, synthetic muscle. He can’t tell if Ramattra’s just that good or he’s just that bad.

Regardless, his hands tear at his iron wrists. His legs fall apart, useless. He thought that the lack of motion would make him lose it, but it was the motion itself that drove him that much closer to the brink of insanity. 

“Oh..It’s been so long …” Ramattra braces his arms on the headboard, clutching at the wood as he loses himself. 

“A-Are you… close ..?” 

“Getting there,” he says. “Did you want me to speed up?”

 He bites his lip. Ramattra continues peering at him from between the trembling ribbon cables on his crown. Genji wishes, absentmindedly, that he had lips that he could bite instead. 

“No. In f-fact…could you-“

“Slow down?”

He does as he asks, as if to demonstrate. His hips roll into his rear, slow and deep, and Genji makes the most egregiously erotic noise he thinks he’s ever heard in his entire life. His eyes roll back and his spine arches impossibly.

“ Ohhhh god …y-yeah…just.. mmf ..just like that.” He stumbles over his words like marbles over glass.

Ramattra grunts comprehensively. His hands wrap around his waist and the ninja love-drunkenly believes that his touch is almost tender . 

“Do you have hair in that little hood of yours?” he asks. As if in question, his hand drifts from his waist to the crown of his head, tugging absently at the fabric and carbon fiber.

“I d-do.”

His rolling hips slow to a stop. “May I see?”

His brows furrow, but he reluctantly takes his hood off. Eager to see every bit of him, isn’t he? His short crop of black hair slips out from under the fabric. 

Ramattra hums, leans forward, and rakes his fingers through his hair. Like a deer in the headlights, Genji freezes, eyes wide. He tugs on the strands and gently strokes his scalp. Exploring, just like he always does.

“Mm. You are cute.”

“How many t-times are you g- uh -!”

He’s interrupted by Ramattra thrusting back inside of him and filling him out. The erotic noises return at full force. He closes his eyes and enjoys the sensations of being full to the brim .

“I’ll say it as many times as I like,” Ramattra teases. “It’s true.”

Genji isn’t fond of being interrupted, but he supposes he can let it slide this time. 

The war machine gently thumbs at his leaking cock and he lets out a rather undignified squeak . The sound makes him laugh. “Aw. Is that too much, little dragon?” He palms his shaft, rubbing it sensually up and down in tandem with the movement of his hips. 

Genji musters up the strength to lean forward and slap his arm. “F-Fuck off y-you smug… oh, god …What are you-?”

His thoughts are cut off as Ramattra flips him onto his stomach. He’s careful; his thrusting never ceases, cock never leaving his interior. The movement reminds Genji of the achy trembling in his limbs, and he shivers. His warm black palms rest heavy on his back and slide down the metal plates. He squeaks again when the Ravager squeezes his buttocks, a laugh burbling out of his synth.

“Such an attractive build. Color me impressed. I’d love to meet whoever designed you.”

Genji thought that ‘whoever designed your parts’ might have been more comfortable for him, but he disregards it. Ramattra’s probably never been with a cyborg before, with his hatred of humans even permeating into the half-bloods. Still, he finds him attractive, something he never expected to hear from anyone, let alone Ramattra.

Genji gasps sharply when the Ravager leans fully over him, his hard front pressed against his back. His grunts and moans echo right into his audio sensors, so quiet and close, and his face immediately turns red. He can’t tell if Ramattra is doing it to rile him up, or if he really is enjoying himself.

“Do you want me to release inside of you, Genji?” he murmurs. 

The sound makes him shiver with a whine. “A-Are you..about to…?”

“Yes.”

There is a strong note of desperation in his synth, and it catches him off guard with how sincere it is.

“I-I wouldn’t… ah ..m-mind it…”

If only he had lips. Genji would make out with him like it were his last day on earth. But just because he doesn’t have lips doesn’t mean he can’t try regardless; Ramattra grunts with surprise as Genji grabs his chin and presses rough, desperate kisses to his angular faceplate. He acquiesces, and presses his red, surging array to his temple, the lights flaring brightly. An Omnic kiss. 

His fleeting touches grow harried as he nears his end. “Genji,” he whispers. “Genji, Genji, I-I…” Chanting.

“Come on, come on.”

Violet fingertips trace the edge of each spinal plate with a frantic shakiness. Genji bites his lip as Ramattra picks up his pace, losing himself in the final throes of pleasure. 

His cold faceplate makes contact with the flushed red flesh at the back of his neck, and he ‘kisses’ that as well with his final words whispered into his shoulder blades. “Fuck ..G-Genji-! ”

The strength of his orgasm sends his body into trembling convulsions. His grip threatens to crush his waist, core vibration and his synth ruined with static and moans of utter bliss. Genji hisses as hot lubricant floods his rippling interior and sends a warm surge of electricity up his spine. 

There’s a harsh grinding noise, and Genji startles as Ramattra goes completely still and silent above him. Struggling a bit with the warm wash of honey through his body, he turns around and glances at the Ravager. His red array is flickering, completely locked in place (aside from absent shuddering that he can’t seem to control). As he continues to watch, life returns to the bot with a flicker of light and a sigh. Genji half-smiles; his voice is broken .

“Are you alright?” he asks. He finds it difficult to talk suddenly, like the air has been punched out of him. “What happened?”

Ramattra sounds… embarrassed in replying. “My overload was so strong, my systems entirely rebooted.” 

Genji blinks.

“I…”

“Forgive me if I frightened you,” he continues. “It has been so long since I’ve enjoyed intimacy like this. I may have been overzealous.”

He can’t help but smirk , an act that seems to puzzle him as he cocks his head.

“Relax. I enjoyed it.”

Another small sigh. His joints slowly unlock and settle back into that familiar fluidity that is so lifelike for a machine of war. So natural, so alive . Genji stares and admires the way the sun hits the side of his face. 

Ramattra stares right back. Whether or not he expects the ninja to say something, he doesn’t give an indication. They are awash in afterglow, and despite the slight pinch of reality setting in, Genji is determined to enjoy this moment. Enjoy the warmth of the sun on his plating as it sets, the comfort of his bed, stinking of sex and oil, and (despite their differences) the strong body pinning him to the mattress.

He’s determined to enjoy it until he hears a knock at the door, and then the click of the latch coming undone. 

“Ah. I see you have been busy.”

Genji stares, absolutely horrified, at his master floating nonchalantly in the doorway as Ramattra completely disengages and spills lubricant all down his front. Genji squeaks as his interior gapes open, and his legs are closed immediately when Zenyatta glances at him. For once, he wishes his faceplate wasn’t static so he could determine how to feel about this.

“M-Master…”

Of all the people he expects to see in that doorway when he turns his head, the Omnic monk is not one he would prefer. 

“Zenyatta,” the Ravager breathes. He doesn’t sound at all mortified. His synth is just as easy and nonplussed as Zenyatta’s. “I was beginning to wonder when you would return.”

He nodded. “Indeed, I just came back. And you have been…bonding, as I suggested.”

Ramattra laughs heartily like he always does. Genji would have glared at him if he weren’t so open and vulnerable. “Indeed, we have. I’d go so far as to say that we’ve gotten along very well . Isn’t that right, Genji?”

Both of them look at him. Can they not see the abject terror in his eyes? Zenyatta merely cocks his head and giggles .

“Forgive me. I should have knocked. But I was concerned by the noise I heard, which I understand now was not quite distress.”

Oh, god. How long had he been listening?

Ramattra stands up. His cock is still half-hard and slinging the remaining lubricant all over the floor. Zenyatta doesn’t react except for a swift glance, nothing more. Genji finally musters up the strength to draw up his modesty panel and pull the blankets up over his head, shielding his burning face from their arrays. Ramattra and Zenyatta both laugh. 

“I will leave you to finish,” he says. “You may forgo our evening spar if you feel unfit to join me, Genji. In my experience, Ramattra can do… quite a number on one’s circuits.”

He did not need to hear that.

“Goodnight, Genji. Goodnight, Ramattra.”

“…g-goodnight, master…” he manages to sputter before the door closes behind the monk. 

A soft click. Genji is merely left with the sound of his rapid breathing and Ramattra chuckling. 

“Oh, get out from under there. Your plates will need cleaning.”

He pulls the blankets off of Genji, who has nearly broken into tears. Ramattra seems to soften at that, and his modesty panel pulls back into place and hides his member as he sits to comfort him.

His hand rubs his back gently. “Relax, Genji. Zenyatta does not mind.”

His mouth remains shut. As the minutes tick by, his breathing slowly steadies.

His master saw him buck naked , fucking his former partner.  

After a moment, he sighs and decides to completely shut down that train of thought. He’ll deal with it later. 

Ramattra moves to say something else, but Genji stops him. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Very well,” he replies. “Let’s get you cleaned up, yes?”

He tries to sit up. But he is suddenly overwhelmed by an ache ripping through his entire body, slowing his movement with a groan. It makes him panic. He’s supposed to be agile, capable, fast, and now he’s been compromised.

“Genji?”

His voice is smooth, rhythmic, and intense. It rumbles through his mainframe and makes him shudder. It brings him back to the real world; Ramattra’s hand on his back, tracing the spinal struts with an absent tenderness. Genji isn’t sure whether he’s doing it on purpose or not, but he doesn’t care.

“Can’t we bathe later?” he asks. His tone is exhausted and there’s nothing he can do to prevent it. “I’m tired.”

Ramattra is insistent, though. “I would rather not ruin a perfectly good set of blankets, or a perfectly good pair of machines. Come, it won’t take very long at all.”

He braces his arms under his body and picks him up without any effort at all. Genji falls completely limp in his arms, absorbed in his thrumming core and synth vibrating in his chest. 

Ramattra carries him into the bathroom and does exactly as he promises. He thoroughly cleans Genji’s plating and silicone parts, meticulously absorbing every bit of lubrication with a cloth and going over it with varnish afterwards. Genji is dry and clean afterwards, and exhausted as he is, he cannot help but enjoy it. It’s a much more thorough cleaning than he can give himself. He watches Ramattra examine himself in the mirror and clean his own parts. He hums to himself and speaks sometimes, to no one in particular, as he tilts his chassis back and forth and polishes every bit of steel he can reach.

Genji volunteers to change the sheets, but Ramattra sternly dissuades him, and places him gently in a corner armchair while he does it. He fumbles a bit with the fitted sheet, grumbling to himself. It makes Genji giggle, and Ramattra glares at him only to break into laughter himself. He fluffs the ninja’s pillows, tucks in the sheets and comforter. It looks so domestic for a war machine.

Eventually, Genji finds himself tucked into bed by the Ravager. His visor and helmet are gently placed on his nightstand, any extraneous armor bits neatly set aside. Ramattra sits perfectly still and glimmering in the remaining sunlight.

“Comfortable?” he asks.

“Yes.” He yawns. “Are you..”

He falls silent when Ramattra stands. He stares for a moment longer, does nothing, says nothing, before starting for the door.

He barely takes a step before Genji is reaching out for him. “Wait! Where are you going?”

“I thought you would have preferred your solitude after we were finished.”

His synth is low, neutral. 

Genji matches his tone. “Maybe before. But not now.”

Another beat of silence passes. Distantly, walking through the corridors, Genji swears he can hear Zenyatta laughing. Maybe it’s just his imagination.

“Is there somewhere else you need to be? Want to be?”

“No.” He isn’t sure which end of the question he’s referring to. Maybe both. 

“Then stay with me. Please.”

He isn’t sure why he wants him. Maybe he just wants his warmth. Maybe he wants his strong arms around him again, to be held in a way he’s never been held before. Maybe they’re alike in that they haven’t been intimate with anyone in such a long, long time that the simple, primitive act of sex fools Genji’s brain, drunk on serotonin and the fading afterglow of their sex, into thinking he’s falling in love with the Ravager, and he wants to stay close to that source of tenderness and affection for as long as possible.

Regardless of his own reasons, withheld, Ramattra nods. “Very well.”

Genji crawls out from under the blankets. The mattress bends under Ramattra’s weight as he crawls onto it, flipping onto his side. He’s enormous, and the bed can barely accommodate both of them, but they make it work. Genji rolls to face the window, the blooming Sakura trees beyond the one-directional glass, and Ramattra’s body entirely cups his frame, so tiny next to his bulk. Steam caresses his chassis. He shivers when the machine gently tilts his head and lines the nape of his neck with a series of warm smooches from his array, from the intersection of his white faceplate and purple jaw, where lips would probably be. 

“Thank you,” he whispers.

“What for?”

“For staying.”

He chuckles. “You need not thank me, Genji,” he replies. “I wanted to stay all along.”

Chapter Text

Ramattra slips into recharge. His arms are still wrapped loosely around his partner, sharing their warmth. Genji closes his eyes, tries to get some sleep.

He can’t.

That rogue train of thought he’d put off earlier comes back and hits him as soon as his eyelids flutter closed. Zenyatta was always very skilled with masking his emotions. What if he hated Genji now? What if he was leaving base right now, never to be seen again? They were ridiculous thoughts, but he had them anyway. His circuits ran through with anxiety.

But he was never one to run away from his problems. Not after he’d made so much progress.

Ramattra groans as he gently slips out from between his arms. “Where are you off to, little dragon?”

If he looks pretty in the daytime, he looks so effortlessly gorgeous at night. He sighs. “I’ll be back,” he whispers. “Go back to sleep.”

He fusses, but doesn’t complain further. Thin fingers pull at the back of his neck as he leans forward and kisses his faceplate. Genji pulls on his visor, ignoring his aching hips, and dashes off into the night. 

He goes stealth and avoids the few night owls that occupy the alpha base. He isn’t in the mood for conversing; he’s busy steeling himself for the oncoming conversation. Ramattra had informed him of his relationship with Zenyatta, and though he does trust him more now than he did before (he kind of has to, with the shape of his dick imprinted in his guts), he doesn’t know for certain. He doesn’t want to risk ruining the best and most solid relationship he’s ever had.

(Not even for some of the best sex he’s had in over a decade.)

Even under moonlight, the summer air is blistering hot outside. The garden is in full bloom. Genji admires the beautiful flowers and lush grass under his feet before carrying on.

It’s times like these where he wishes Zenyatta could express emotions with his face. His static faceplate, downturned and complacent, is adorable, but not helpful in moments like these, where mere motion and vocal antiquities do not suffice. He turns to Genji where he sits, interrupted in his meditation, and greets him genially.

“Genji, my faithful student,” he says. His synth is calm and chipper. “Come, sit with me.” He pats the ground next to him.

Genji does as he asks. He’d grabbed his hoodie on the way out, and now he’s wringing the fabric between his hands, gingerly seating himself next to Zenyatta.

“It is a beautiful night tonight, isn’t it?”

The monk sighs. His shoulders roll and he looks up at the moon. Genji nods. “Very beautiful.” It doesn’t compare to you, though .

“I thought you would have fallen asleep by now,” he says. “Sex with Ramattra tends to be exhausting, in my experience.”

His experience. He doesn’t want to think about that right now. His face lights up under his visor. “I am sore…” He didn’t think he was capable of being sore in this body.

Zenyatta chuckles. “Let me help.”

He assigns one orb to hover over his head. Its warm glow washes over him, and he settles, small aches and itches melting away under its light. Without even thinking, he leans on Zenyatta’s shoulder. Before he can apologize and pull away, however, the monk laughs again and puts one arm around him. He’s warm and Genji can hear his internals functioning; coolant flowing, steam hissing, gears and joints clicking. His vocals hum and it drones into his core. 

“Thank you, master.”

“It is no trouble, Genji. Whenever you are in need of aid, I will be there.”

Right as the reason he’d come began to slip away, he grabbed onto it. Zenyatta turned to look at him as he sat up fully and puffed his chest.

“A-About earlier…what you saw..”

He makes a sound akin to that of a sigh. “Oh, Genji.” He seems tempted to say something more, but falls silent, something Genji is thankful for.

“He told me that you were in a relationship. But that it was open, and you laid with others just as he did. I trust his judgment, but I wanted to confirm with you, as well. I don’t wish to hurt you, master.”

“And you won’t.” He reaches out, takes the ninja’s hands and rubs them over with his fingers. Astoundingly daft, for a metal man. “His words are true, Genji. I love him, but I do not wish him to be attached to me, limited by me, and the same rule applies to him. We love each other, and everyone. That is our rule. You have not hurt me one bit.”

His tense shoulders fall limp, soothed by Zenyatta’s tender synth, and he finds the breath to sigh. “I’m relieved to hear that. I was so afraid I’d broken your heart.”

“Of course not. You never could.”

He leans forward and gently kisses the ninja’s forehead with his array. His face turns ruddy. Warm hands stroke his cheek, and his core thrums with fire.

“Did you enjoy yourself, Genji?”

He nods sheepishly. “I did. Ramattra is a..sufficient lover.”

The laugh he barks startles him. “‘Sufficient’ is one way of putting it, I suppose,” he says. “You were quite loud.”

“I-I thought the alpha base had soundproof walls!” 

“Perhaps I just have sensitive hearing. Or, just in case, you may want to schedule your lovemaking so that no one else is around?”

Genji groans, lays down fully on the grass and hides his glowing face in his hands. Zenyatta laughs and rubs his knee sympathetically.

“I won’t be making any love any time soon, knowing the entire base might be listening.. ugh .”

He sounds amused when he next speaks. “Going by the stories Hanzo and Kiriko have told me, I have reason to suspect that that would not stop you should you want it enough.”

He groans again, louder this time, and thrashes in the grass. He hears Zenyatta giggle. It soothes his uneasy soul; Zenyatta has always had such a bright and charming laugh. He can’t help but smile when he hears it, and he smiles now, even as his red face is hidden behind his hands. 

“You should rest, Genji,” he murmurs. 

He nods solemnly, bowing his head. “I should. Ramattra will be waiting for me.”

“He is staying in your bed with you?”

A sudden worry shoots through his system. “Yes. Is that alright?”

“Of course. I find it sweet. He must have grown quite fond of you. I believe he finds it difficult to expose himself so readily to those he does not trust. It took him quite a while to recharge beside me.”

Ramattra, fond of me. His exhausts kick up and shoot a cloud of steam out into the hot summer air. 

“Rāmrōsam̐ga sutnuhōs, Miṭhāsa,” Zenyatta says in Nepali. He takes his hand, turning fully to face him, and kisses his forehead again. The metal makes a soft ‘tink!’ noise as it connects with his faceplate. “Give Ramattra my regards, if he is awake when you return.”

“Oyasumi, sensei.” 

He stands to his full height, feels relieved as Zenyatta sings absently to himself in the garden, continuing his meditation. 

It is difficult to tell whether or not Ramattra is unconscious when he returns. He is sprawled out on the bed, taking up much of the space with his bulk. Genji undresses, slides back between the sheets (now rustled up a bit, not that he minds) and is immediately welcomed back into his arms. The Ravager groans and presses lazy kisses to his face.

“You spoke with him,” he mutters. His synth is a bit gravelly with static.

“How do you know that?”

Warm steel presses up against Genji. “I can feel his energy on you. I couldn’t describe it, it’s just…a feeling I get. Like a smell without smelling.”

His hands immediately begin roaming again, mapping out stretches of steel and carbon fiber. 

He snorts, raising an eyebrow. “You smell Zenyatta on me.”

“Nevermind that,” he says, with a bit of embarrassment. Genji smirks. “What did you speak about?”

He trusts Ramattra. Not completely, but enough to be honest with him.

(And fuck him, apparently.)

“I asked him if my relationship with you was truly alright,” he says. “And he said yes.”

Ramattra scoots back a bit to regard him, hands firm on his shoulders. “Did you not believe me?”

“I did. But I wanted to know for certain.”

He admires the strong column of Ramattra’s neck, framed with black ribbon cables woven through with a single red wire. One of Zenyatta’s spinal cables. His white faceplate almost glows in the moonlight coming from the window.

“You love him dearly, don’t you?”

There’s amusement in his synth that has Genji reeling. “As my teacher, yes, and as my friend.”

A strong sensation of argument blooms in his circuits. Denial . He pushes it down, like bile. He feels too warm and soft to be sick.

Ramattra hums, braces to say something, but lets the task fall stale instead, and settles into the mattress. Genji rolls over and allows him to spoon his body into his grip. Warm plates press into his back and soothe his lingering anxieties. He drifts off like that.

Ramattra stays up for a while, admiring the moonlight on his rosy cheeks.

Chapter Text

When he wakes up, Ramattra is gone.

The sun doesn’t quite reach this side of the base so early in the morning, and light is hardly able to pierce the sky when there are such thick, low clouds bubbling on its surface. Genji takes up the entire bed in a lazy sprawl, and the blankets are wrapped around his naked waist and tangled in his legs. 

He realizes dimly, as he groans and stretches his arms above his head, that he is laying in the deep, warm imprint of Ramattra’s body in his mattress. He still smells oil in his sheets.

He checks his phone, laid gently on his nightstand. It’s 5:30 in the morning; as always, his internal clock has woken him up precisely on time. Sitting up, he tests all of his servos and runs internal diagnostics to make sure nothing’s wrong. His joints click and wires settle into place as he smooths everything out. The room is cold, and he shivers as the blankets fall from around his body.

When did Ramattra leave? Why didn’t he wake him up? Considering his bed has memorized the outline of his shape, he can’t have been gone long. He wonders where Ramattra went. Perhaps he felt more comfortable starting the day in his own bed, or perhaps he had some mysterious business to attend to.

Genji examines himself in his bathroom mirror. He has a short crop of hair and sharp eyes a brown so deep they’re almost black. His eyelashes are long and pretty. His brows curve down in a sharp, angry V and his nose has the slightest crook in the center from being broken over and over again.

Three knocks on his door as he’s brushing his teeth. Rap, rap, rap. He leans around the corner. “Who is it?”

“Zenyatta,” a gentle murmur answers him. “May I come in?”

The mere sound of his voice muffled behind that door soothes something deep in his soul. His shoulders roll, the joints settling with a gentle whirr. 

“If you don’t mind me being naked,” he says with a scoff. 

He laughs, and it’s the cutest sound in the whole damn world. “No, I do not mind.”

The door opens and in comes the Omnic monk and his worried faceplate. Genji lights up as soon as he sees him, such a sleek, fragile frame, hands clasped tenderly at his front. 

“Good morning, Genji,” he says. “How did you sleep?”

He replies through a yawn. “Very well, master. What about you?”

Zenyatta seats himself in his signature lotus position on his bed and sighs, his shoulders settling gracefully. “I am fully recharged and looking forward to the day’s events.”
“Any spectacular dreams?” There’s a teasing note to his voice, but it is all out of fondness. He rifles through his dresser for a pair of sweatpants he can wear. 

“Nothing I have not seen before, but certainly nothing to complain about.” His voice is sweet and soft, like birdsong. “I dreamt I was a butterfly.”

The Butterfly Dream. He nods. “I wish I dreamt about butterflies like you do, master,” he says. And he means it; butterfly dreams seem like such a simple, unobtainable pleasure. 

Zenyatta chuckles again. “I wish the same for you, Genji. We will flit through meadows and forests together.”

He smiles. Alas, it was not meant to be.

Zenyatta cups his face without saying anything. Genji lets him. His fingers comb through his hair and tame the loose strands, thumbs tracing the lines of his eyebrows. His face heats up and warms his cold metal palms.

“You look lovely, Genji.”

Zenyatta’s sweet voice renders him speechless for a moment.

“T-Thank you, master.”

“How did Ramattra treat you once you were finished?” His hands return to his lap. Genji watches them go wistfully from the corner of his eye. “If you do not mind me asking?”

He smiles. “He was very nice, sensei,” he says. “He cleaned me up and changed my sheets.”

He glances back at his cold, messy, empty bed and sighs. 

“He did leave at some point during the night, though. I don’t know where he went.”

Zenyatta hums. “Do not take it personally, Genji. Ramattra is a rather socially anxious individual. It takes him a long time to trust the unfamiliar, even those he shares his bed with.”

The ninja sighs. He can certainly empathize with that. “I understand.”

He claps him comfortingly on the shoulder. “He will come around, eventually. Give it time.”

Genji pulls his sweatpants on, grabs a loose shirt and tugs it over his head, as well. His visor connects to his head with a soft click and all's right with the world.

Well, almost everything.

He used to be a very sexually active youth. A different person pulled into his bedroom each night, always exchanged for another, fleeting touches and tender moments traded constantly. Despite never being alone, he always was, and it was something he had grown used to. 

So why did it hurt when he woke up and Ramattra wasn’t there?

“I think I saw him this morning making his way towards the medical wing,” Zenyatta murmurs. “Would you like to go find him?”

Zenyatta, his cute little faceplate tilted, knows him far too well.

“Well, I’d like to stop by the kitchen for something to eat, first,” he says, bemused. “I’m starving.”

The base is dark and quiet as they walk through the hallways together. The silence is why Genji loves waking up as early as he does; he can always reliably look forward to peace and quiet every morning for a few odd hours. Zenyatta’s orbs chime and they don’t converse much. Genji picks up an orange from the kitchen and peels it on his way to the medical wing.

If there's one person he can expect to be up as early as he is, it’s Angela Ziegler.

He pokes his head around the corner of her office, expecting her intelligent eyes and blonde ponytail to greet him. 

What he doesn’t expect is Ramattra, a stack of papers cradled in his arms, hauling it from one end of the room to her filing cabinet in the corner. 

“Ramattra?” he asks.

Angela greets him before the Ravager is able to. “Guten morgen, Genji!” she says.

“G-Good morning, Angela. Ramattra, what are you doing here?”

He sets the papers on top of the filing cabinet. “I asked Doctor Ziegler if she had any spare time to educate me on the maintenance of your model. This was the only available time she had.”

“He’s helping me clean my office as a thank you,” Angela says. “Danke, Ramattra.”

“It is no trouble, Doctor.”

Genji cocks his head. “You wanted to know how to… perform maintenance on me?”

Is that why he had left? Why would he want to know how to maintain Genji? It seemed pointless, considering the legion of staff he had at his beck-and-call to take care of him. He was a living experiment, and common engineers and doctors weren’t well-equipped to perform maintenance on him, so he had trained specialists around every corner to assist him when he needed it. So-

“Why?”

He shrugs and gently thumbs through a couple manila folders. “Curiosity,” he says. “And to further offer my service to your team. I understand you already have a large team assigned to you, but it cannot hurt to have one more, can it?”

“No,” he replies with a whisper. “Not at all.”

He hadn’t been expecting this. He’d only met Ramattra a little over a month ago and now he was offering his service to him. Such a skilled engineer, joining his team, with nothing to gain from it, really. 

Zenyatta gently pats Ramattra’s shoulder. “How gracious of you, my love.”

“It is no trouble, brother. I might as well put my skills to good use while I am here.”

Angela gives her brightest smile to Ramattra. “He’s quite a skilled engineer. He has a very bright mind.”

Genji watches the group interact from the doorway, his orange forgotten in his hand. Ramattra looks uncomfortable wrapped in their attention, and is largely silent. Eventually Zenyatta and Angela trail off on their own and Ramattra is left in the center. His faceplate tilts up and he meets his eyes. 

“Are you going to eat that orange, Genji?”

His voice breaks him out of his stupor. The Ravager steps out from between the enthusiastic chat and takes it from his hand.

Genji pouts (though it hardly masks his smile), watching him separate a slice from the rest. “Yes,” he says. “If you give it back, I just might. Uzai..” He snatches the orange slice from his hand and stuffs it in his mouth. 

“Aw, I was going to feed it to you.” Ramattra huffs. Oh, now he’s pouting?

He peels another slice from the orange, tilting it in his fingers. He offers it up to Genji with an indicative tilt of his faceplate. He rolls his eyes, but opens his mouth. 

“Oh, now you want me to-“

“Just give me the goddamn slice, warugaki.”

He cups his cheek and gently feeds it to him, thumbing along his jaw as he chews.

“I’m sorry for leaving you, Genji,” the Ravager murmurs. “I would have left you a note, but our resident doctor has a busy schedule, and I was short on time.”

The ninja smiles and swallows the orange slice, watching as he gently plucks up another one to replace it. “It’s alright, Ramattra. I don’t mind. I’m rather surprised you would do this for me.”

He’s still a bit dumbstruck by that. Not long ago, the two of them quite clearly hated each other. Now the Ravager is willing to offer his engineering prowess to service him when he needs it. It’s a startling but welcome change.

“Any chance to expand my knowledge is welcome,” he says. “I’ve never seen anything like you. I simply had to learn more.” He toys with the orange, gingerly prodding its flesh. “I intend to speak with Torbjörn next. He’ll know more, I’m sure.”

“That he would.” 

His tone grows playful. “I would be open to a cuddling session, if you’d like to make up for lost time.” Genji giggles as he curls him into his arms, grabbing his waist and picking him up with no effort at all. 

“What on earth are you two doing?”

They stop in their tracks at Angela’s puzzled expression. Zenyatta watches on, and though his faceplate is static, he has a feeling he would be smiling if he were able to. 

Before Genji can make a fool of himself, Ramattra sets him down and straightens. “I was simply…testing some of the knowledge I have gained, doctor.”

She narrows her eyes knowingly, but says nothing more.

“I will be taking my leave now. Thank you for your time.”

She bids all of them farewell as they make their way out of her office. Genji’s face is still red.

“I am so proud of both of you,” Zenyatta says, his synth bright and whole. “Your relationship has truly blossomed.”

Ramattra laughs. “Your pet is quite charming, beloved. I cannot help it. He has won me over.”

“On that, we can agree,” Zenyatta replies. 

Both of them are comfortingly rubbing his shoulders and patting his back. All of the attention has him shrinking into himself like a turtle into his shell. It’s all worth it to hear them laughing together, a chime and a bell synchronized. 

Chapter Text

Ramattra’s room is on the far side of the base. The good news is that it probably gives him a gorgeous view of the mountains, and he has more space to himself, which he probably enjoys (and Genji sometimes envies). The bad news is that it takes the ninja forever to get to him.

He second guesses himself on the way there. Does Ramattra want him in his room? Have they gotten to the point where they can show up to one another’s quarters unannounced? Or should he stop and wait until he is explicitly invited? It’s a small thing, but to him it feels so large. Even his thick visor can hardly hide the way he gnaws at the inside of his cheek. 

He likes Ramattra. He wants to spend more time with him, especially now, knowing that the Ravager is at least curious about him and willing to learn more about him and how he works. At the very least, he’s willing to fuck him, and that has to mean something, if Zenyatta is right about him.

Surely Zenyatta knows more about him than anyone else. If Zenyatta is wrong, then he’s about to be in for a huge surprise.

The hallways are quiet. He can barely hear the sound of his own footsteps on the floor.

When he eventually reaches his door, he stands there and listens for a moment, waiting for a noise to leak out into his receivers. He finds nothing. Reluctantly, gritting his teeth the whole way, he knocks on the door three times.

Ramattra takes up the entire door frame. As soon as he sees him, he lifts his chin and resettles his weight onto one leg. “All those times I’ve visited your room, and now you have finally visited mine,” he says.

Despite his playful tone, Genji finds it difficult to meet his eyes. “Is this a bad time?”

“There is never a bad time for you to appear, Genji. Please, come in.” He steps aside and welcomes him into his…surprisingly cluttered bedroom.

The entire space is decked out to high heaven in various knick-knacks and trinkets. Small potted plants on every shelf and crude drawings done in crayon pinned to his walls. Small tapestries hang beside the door, and a sea of candles lay in various dishes on his overstuffed desk, filling their holding plates with colorful wax. His feet sink into an enormous yellow rug. His bed is covered in so many pillows and blankets that he can’t distinguish them from one another.

Suffice to say, this is the last thing he expected to see. “You certainly have…a lot of belongings.”

Ramattra chuckles. “Perhaps. I was scarcely able to keep much of anything during the war. I like to keep mementoes of this new life I lead. Anything I can, to hold onto and remember.”

Ramattra seems rather at ease in his cluttered, colorful room. Genji sits on a chair in the corner. 

“Does your favorite color happen to be yellow?” he asks.

The entire room is covered floor to ceiling in gold; golden rug, golden pillows, golden star decals plastered on the ceiling. He smiles at an adorably crude crayon portrait of Ramattra’s faceplate pinned to the wall above his desk.

“Yes, it is my favorite color. It reminds me of sunshine and starlight. And Zenyatta.” 

“You must have had a field day moving everything in here.”

Ramattra laughs and seats himself on his bed that is barely large enough for him. “I had plenty of help. It was no challenge.”

The monk sticks relatively effortlessly to the rules of the Shambali, even though he is no longer a part of them. He has very few belongings, and therefore both his quarters and body are always barren, save for a few small tokens; drawings given to him at the Shambali by visiting children, a collection of pressed leaves and flowers, labeled with the species name, pictures of his brothers and sisters, the sash that decorates the front of his tattered yellow trousers and a soft blanket he had cut and sewn by hand. 

Ramattra, however, is the polar opposite. Every square inch of the room is covered in one thing or another. Genji can’t make out where one object ends and another begins. All of it is bathed in warm candlelight and the soft glow of the sun rearing up from behind the mountain peaks. Ramattra’s logic makes sense; the whole beginning of his life had known nothing but endless battles, and his existence itself allowed no possession. Why, then, would he not take advantage of his freedom and hold onto everything he could see, with a future as uncertain as his? Shambali rules be damned, he was determined to keep his entire life crammed in his arms, memorized through paintings and pillows and a soft, warm bed. It is so different from his own room, as skeletal as his master’s. It’s comfortable. It’s welcoming. 

“What is your favorite color, Genji?” 

Ramattra has his pretty faceplate tilted, watching the ninja puzzle over an open book on his desk. He turns around and purses his lips. “Green.”

Another laugh. “I never would have guessed.”

He sits next to Ramattra on his bed, observing the mountains way off in the distance. 

“You got lucky with the room lottery,” he remarks with a smirk. “Look at that view.”

“It’s quite nice to wake up to each morning.”

Ramattra, without saying anything, tugs the ninja into his lap and begins fiddling with his spinal plates. Genji lets him, relaxing his shoulders to give him access. One by one, the clasps come undone, and his primary cords are exposed to the open air. 

“Ah, that makes much more sense, now,” he murmurs. “It’s much more convenient having names to attribute with these parts.”

“Testing your knowledge, Ramattra?”

“If you don’t mind.

“Not at all.”

It takes a long while for Ramattra to name all of Genji’s parts. He turns him and gently taps each one to further memorize where they are and what purpose they serve, from his neck to his legs. The ninja silently allows him to touch and maneuver his parts how he wishes, serving as a real life version of the diagrams he had been observing that entire morning. He watches the sun slowly rise from the corner of his eye, and finds he doesn’t mind the passage of time. 

“-and this tangle of wires act as the nerves for your lower half, from the hips down,” he murmurs. “I can switch the nerves off by flipping this little switch here.”

A soft click echoes out from Genji’s spinal maintenance cavity, and suddenly every sensation from his thighs to his toes is replaced with an absent tingling. 

“How does that feel?”

His eyes go wide as he pokes his own skin, trying to prompt a sensation out of them. “I-I can’t feel my legs.”

“So it works! Fascinating.” He prods Genji’s hips and thighs, toying with his prickly legs.

“Why would you ever need to turn off my sense of touch?” he asks. 

“In case of injuries, it can nullify the pain and make treatment easier.” He plucks Genji’s ankle up from the bed and stretches his foot. “You can’t feel that?”

Watching his limb move but feeling nothing except fuzzy static is almost disturbing . “N-No.”

“But manual processes can still be activated.” His fingers roll over to another wire and pinch it. “This bundle goes to your toes.”

A few easy tugs make his muscles twitch, and he watches with wide and awed eyes as each of his toes flex individually, synthetic flesh rippling. 

Ramattra cackles in utter delight. “Beautiful! The muscles can be individually flexed with manipulation of the synthetic nervous system! Such a fascinating design!”

“I feel like a dead frog,” he comments. The legs being separated from the brain, but still able to flex and move all on their own.

“Would you like me to stop?” 

His voice grows tender and sincere, and he looks at him with genuine concern, his fingertips still pinched around his cords. But he’s never heard his synth sound so bright and joyful. It’s a gorgeous sound. He would kill to hear it again.

He smiles. “No, it’s alright. Just…odd.”

“Wonderful.” He can hear the grin in his vocoder. “I can do that with your other limbs, too.”

His hand reaches up further into his maintenance cavity, carefully navigating around his spine and wires, to find the bundle near his arm, and he switches it off. Genji furrows his brows as his left arm slowly goes numb.

He leans around his front, cupping him further into his lap. “Gone?”

“Yes.”

“Perfect.” Another little click, and his sense of touch returns. He flexes his hand to feel the figurative “blood” rush back into it. 

He does the same thing to the other arm. Even while his sense of touch is gone, he still has control of his muscles, and flexes his digits blindly as his processor is overwhelmed by that odd fuzziness that takes over him. 

“Other processes become manually activated as well, in case you get knocked unconscious and cannot expose certain parts for maintenance,” Ramattra carries on. “I’ve already demonstrated your digits, but also your exhaust vents—“

The silver caps of his exhaust pipes shoot out of his shoulders with a hiss of steam and a soft click. Ramattra reactivates the same switch and they recede.

“—and your modesty panel can be activated as well.”

His hands shift lower, delicately, down his spinal column and find another node, twisting delicately. Genji squeals as his flaccid shaft is exposed by his paneling, sliding neatly away.

“Ah, I’m sorry, I should have asked.”

“No! It’s fine, I just…wasn’t expecting it.”

Ramattra props his pretty head up on his shoulder and peers at his soft cock. Genji isn’t used to seeing it soft; whenever it loses its rigidity it simply is tucked away under his modesty panel. 

“The panel can be removed entirely, too.”

The Ravager reignites the switch, only to detach the panel as it slides back over his parts, handing it to Genji to look at. He traces its edge with his fingers.

He laughs. “Hmm. Wouldn’t it be quite lovely to have you walk out and about without that little panel?”

He isn’t really talking to Genji, but he replies anyway. “Excuse you? I need this panel.”

“Oh, I know. You fight completely nude. Quite a bold choice, but I could make it bolder.”

He plucks the panel out of his hands and dangles it above his head. Genji turns around, pouting, clambering up his body to try and reach it. Eventually, perhaps out of pity, he hands the panel back to him. He doesn’t reattach it, though, simply leans over to set it aside.

Ramattra watches with keen interest and leans in quite close as he returns to his lap. “Opening up to the idea, Genji?” he asks. 

He rolls his eyes. “No.”

That’s a lie. The thought of racing into battle completely naked, despite how absurd it is, heats him up more than he cares to admit.

“There’s a few other little tricks I can use on you, too,” he murmurs. His synth is devolving into gravelly warbles. His hand slips around his back and returns to his maintenance cavity, rolling and pinching cables between his fingers. Genji jolts as he suddenly feels a wash of warmth bubble over him. His shaft starts filling out with a few gentle twitches, hardening against Ramattra’s abdominal plates.

“How does that feel?” he asks. His hand is on his hip, keeping him grounded. 

“G-Good..! It feels great..”

He sounds amused. “Manual stimulation of the genital region via switch-toggled activation. Such a beautiful thing.”

He doesn’t understand half of what that means. 

Ramattra is so gentle with him, so good to him. He thumbs at his hip-joints, cradling him sweetly in his lap. Genji manages to find his wits as his network shifts its attention and presses Ramattra back into his collection of pillows.

“Ramattra,” he calls.

“Genji,” he answers.

“C-Can I..”

He shifts his hips restlessly over Ramattra’s shaft, still hidden by a metal plate.

He chuckles, cupping his face with his hand tenderly. “Looking to stay on top then, sweetness?”

“Yes.”

“Your wish is my command.”

He lifts the ninja up by his waist so he can unveil his hardened member and squeeze him down onto it. It fits perfectly into the cleft of his ass, like it was meant to be there. Genji feels the warmth of it under him, spreading wetness all over his skin and bites his lip, squeezing his thighs together.

“It’s alright. Spread yourself.”

Genji whines and spreads his legs to straddle him. Ramattra rubs soothing circles into his hips as he sinks lower towards his shaft.

“There you go,” he coos. “Good boy, always so good for me.”

Maybe I am a pet.

The more Ramattra fills him, the shakier he gets. His inner thighs are cramping and trembling with the strain of holding his body weight. His big hands gently stroke his thighs and coax him down. 

He hums. “Lay down, sweet thing. I have you.”

With a pathetic moan, Genji reassigns his weight and collapses onto him. His arms wrap around his back and hold him. Warm palms map out his back and play with his spinal wires, making him writhe and sob pathetically. Ramattra’s hips roll deep and smooth into him, once, twice, setting a rhythmic pace that sends him reeling despite how tender it is. Genji’s arms brace against his chest, wriggling between his ribs and playing with sensitive valves and nodes. Ramattra is a quiet lover; his soft moans and grunts are satisfying to wring out of him. Genji feels the warmth of his face reflected back at him as he leans down and kisses his faceplate, leaving gleaming wet marks all over him. 

“I thought you would be taking charge?” Ramattra teases. “Whatever happened, Shimada?”

Genji moves to speak, his brows furrowed in irritation, but the Ravager fully wraps his arms around him, squeezing him tight, picking up his pace. His snapping hips silence him easily. 

Genji’s voice is a weak, tiny whisper in his throat when he says “I-I was… hah …going to. B-But then you-“

His whimpering trails off as Ramattra groans. It’s loud, louder than his other noises, and rare enough that Genji can’t help but listen to it. His voice is a powerful drum in his chest that reverberates through his core. 

“D-Do that again.”

His voice is quiet, because Ramattra doesn’t like being ordered around. 

But he doesn’t get upset. His faceplate gently cocks to one side as he relaxes his grip on Genji’s waist and his fingers dance on his spinal plating. His hips make little circles as they continue the pattern they’d set. “Oh, do you like the noises I make, Genji?” he asks, teasing as always. “Do you like it when I moan?”

His gentle thrusting becomes deeper and slower as he demonstrates for him. The way he moves is so beautifully organic for a machine, like a dancer, completely in tune with himself. Genji tenses up above him, startled by the change, and his eyes go wide when he gets louder. 

He’s not complaining, though. He’s delighted . He likes when his lovers make noise. It ensures that they’re enjoying themselves, and Ramattra seems like a hard bot to please. 

“I-I do…I love it,” he says. He finds difficulty admitting it, his face flushing red. “Your v-voice is..nice.”

Nice . It’s more than nice. 

“Mm,” he hums thoughtfully. He seems to want to say something more, but he refrains and refocuses his energy on pleasing his lover. 

Genji manages to find his strength and sits up. He raises his hips and drops them, satiated by the hard shaft that fills him at each fall. Ramattra picks up on his cues and gives him some slack, loosening his grip on his body and instead stroking him where he needs it. A true mechanic, he is finely tuned to every inevitable itch inside of him and he tends to them accordingly. He continues making noise, in that warbling tone that thrums through him like a starving flame through kindling. He feels each segment of his cock scraping through his sensitive nodes and pinpoint sensors, and each gentle thrust sends wild sensations rocketing through his systems. He’s trembling beyond his own control and sobbing in Ramattra’s hold. The Ravager cups him like something fragile, embraces him as if he were a precious artifact and coos tenderly into his ear, chirping binary and Nepali phrases that his translator can’t process before the task falls stale, exchanged for another. He speaks too, praising his work in broken Japanese. 

Genji is startled by the strength of his own orgasm as it suddenly overwhelms him without prior warning. He gets a heat notification and dismisses it; Ramattra can help. He always does. 

Ramattra knows anyway. “Come on, Genji,” he murmurs. “Come undone. Let me see your dragon.”

He rolls his eyes. “Shhhhut y-your..oh… Ah! ”

Golden bliss washes through him and he completely collapses, his head connecting with Ramattra’s chest in a light ‘clang!’ that he doesn’t notice one bit. He’s panting, liquid cooling going into overdrive to make up for it, legs quivering as they finally relax against the silky sheets. 

“ Kuso… ” he curses in Japanese. His stomach is suddenly wet. “‘Let me see your dragon’? You can’t be serious.”

He bursts into deep belly laughs that break Genji out of his pout immediately. “Forgive me! I couldn’t resist. You are so fun to tease.”

He rolls his eyes. “How can you be so sweet and so mean at the same time?” His muscles are still twitching, but the warmth from Ramattra’s vents soothes them easily, and he breathes in the exhaust. “Being so lovely one moment and bullying me the next..”

“ Bullying might be a bit harsh,” he replies with a scoff. “Zenyatta would kill me.” 

“Yes he would.”

The weight of his shaft inside of him is starting to grow stale. It spikes up in electricity when Ramattra grunts and adjusts his hips, slipping out of his insides, making him shiver. Wet fluids slip down the curve of his posterior and stain his parts. 

“Relying on your master to protect you, Genji?” Another laugh. He loves the sound, would kill a man just to hear it again. “Such a capable ninja you are.” 

He’s a bit confused by the deep, husky note he hears in his synth. Until his arm slides over Genji’s thigh and his warm palm is suddenly brushing against his ass as he takes his length in hand and strokes himself idly. He hears the metal interact with itself, feels the slow, methodical rhythm he sets. A few times, he gently prods his red skin with one probing thumb if only to make him roll his eyes at him. Annoying the base’s resident cyborg has become Ramattra’s pastime. 

“I am a very capable ninja,” he says. “You’ve sparred with me. Said so yourself.”

He knows the Ravager hadn’t meant it. He is always very sincere with his words. He’s just eager to hear his voice as he comes, because it’s the most soothing, beautiful sound he’s ever heard, and he craves it all the time ever since he first heard it. 

He nods, his head lolling listlessly. “Yes,” he slurs. His synth is beginning to degrade as he tugs and pulls himself along towards the edge. “And I meant it.”

His arm keeps pumping up and down, his thighs parting to make room for it. Genji rolls off of him and frees him of his weight. His back bows out, free hand pawing listlessly at the sheets, and the ninja watches in reverent awe as he slowly comes undone. He grabs his hand, squeezing to ground him. He thanks him by squeezing back in reply.

He reaches back on his own initiative and touches him.

His responses aren’t quick and startled. He slowly ebbs into Genji’s hand, melting like sweet chocolate and moaning loudly just for him. Their fingertips brush and they stroke that turgid shaft together.  

“Do you have an entrance, Ramattra?” he asks quietly. He’s almost afraid of the possible answers he could give him. 

“I do, I’ve told you before,” he says. His synth grows teasing in its false breathlessness. “Why? Do you want me, Genji?”

“Perhaps.” His systems have reset and Ramattra’s display has him raring to go already. “Would you mind?”

A gentle, chiming laugh answers him. “As long as you can bear my weight, you can have me as many times as you wish.”

Ramattra spreads his legs for him, giving him room to slip under and behind him. He’s completely awed at the view offered to him so willingly, a gift he never expected to be given; a ring of tight silicone directly under that prosthetic he’s become so overtly familiar with, wet and glistening, hardly noticeable to anyone who wasn’t looking for it. Genji, however, had very keen eyes.

His inference gets the better of him. “Why?” he asks. 

“‘Why’ what?”

“Why do you have a hole? I don’t see the point.”

Ramattra shrugs. “I don’t see a point in removing it, either. Anubis simply had a surplus of parts that it figured it might as well use up. Our blueprints are simply a mass of scrap parts.”

Such a beautiful machine crafted from what was meant to be destroyed. A gift to an unsuspecting ninja, who was about to take advantage of those “scrap parts” in a most spectacular fashion.

Or at least he hoped. There was a chance he would be absolutely overwhelmed with the view Ramattra was giving from below him and he’d finish right then and there, having not done anything except embarrassed himself. 

Before he can ask, Ramattra prompts him. “Please, touch me.”

The little ‘please’ sends him into overdrive. His cock twitches, and he has to use up all his restraint not to take himself in hand and come again.

He uses up his energy on Ramattra. Genji slides his hand under his dick and to the waiting entrance below, kneading the pliable silicone with his fingers and slicking each digit on lubricant. It’s soft, warm, and tight, such a sharp contrast to the hard black metal that encases it. He wonders just how deep and wide that hole is, wonders if he can test the limits of what it can take. Ramattra seems to enjoy his prodding; he grunts and twitches, his legs sliding further apart as he invites him to seat himself between them. 

Neither of them are prepared for how beautifully a single finger slides inside of him. His middle, longest digit parts the silicone folds and slips between them, poking at the synthetic flesh inside and exploring, seeing what sensors make his back arch. “Oh, t-that’s…” Ramattra murmurs. His sentence goes unfinished as he trails off into a series of stuttering moans and whimpers, synth devolving into garbled static. His array is flickering, as if he can barely hold himself together. The sight of his arching back and trembling limbs, so wrought with the pleasure that he is providing, is possibly the most erotic thing Genji has ever laid his eyes upon. It really does something for him. It activates something in his processor that he hadn’t known existed until this moment. 

“How is it?” he asks, because Ramattra is riding the edge of orgasm and his voice sounds so sexy when he’s about to come. “Good?”

“ More than good. More than…” He pauses, sits up, and continues to make demands. “More. Give me more.”

He can’t hide the smile that overcomes his face. “Very well.”

His finger is not outfitted with the ridges and segments that his cock possesses, but he manages, curling the tip of the digit to notch along his sensors and pull at them until Ramattra is rocking into his hand, desperately seeking more. He slides his ring finger in alongside it, bending the others back, and pushes forward until he’s knuckle deep inside of him with room to spare. Ramattra is huge and deep ; he can’t feel the end of him. But he wants to. He moans depravedly and clutches the sheets, threatening to tear them, muttering soft Nepali comforts to himself. Genji watches him ride his hand, spill lubricant into his palm and down his arm, and commits the picture to memory. 

“Can you come like this?” 

“I-I…I believe so.” He cranes his neck and peers at him, steam curling out of his exhaust vents. “Wanting an endurance test, little dragon?”

He shrugs, curling his fingers inside of him and pulling more desperate noises out of his speakers. “I want many things, Ramattra,” he says, and that’s all he’s willing to say. If he doesn’t get his cock inside of him he thinks he might die.

It doesn’t hurt to rile him up, though. He flicks his fingers rapidly, catching familiar nodes along the way, and suddenly the fire builds up so much faster than before. His back arches and arches and arches like that of a man possessed, his moans morph into screams .

“You can get loud when you want to, huh?” he teases. Payback.

Ramattra scoffs at him as he’s relieved of the pressure. His static-riddled synth isn’t fit for conversation, at least, not until he does his internal diagnostics (probably after he’s come), but he makes do. “I thought you enjoyed the noises I made.”

“I do. I really do.”

His fingers withdraw from Ramattra’s gaping interior and he sucks the lubricant off them out of habit. The taste is almost sweet, yet savory in a way. The closest thing he can compare it to is the faint scent of oil and sweat. He enjoys it. He slides his cock into the hinge of Ramattra’s hips, just a few inches from his throbbing prosthetic member, and grinds into the metal vertices, mopping up the pre-ejaculate he’s leaking. He lines himself up, admiring the soft black ridge of his hole as it brushes against the tip of his shaft.

“I don’t think I’m going to last long,” he admits in a moment of weakness. The sight of him laid out and oversexed under him makes him lame. 

Ramattra cups his face as he leans over him. He admires the sight of his ribbon cables splayed out in wild rivulets across the pillows. “I cannot say that I will, either. We will overload together.”

“Yes.”

“Good boy.”

He hates how much he loves that pet name.

The proceeding slide into him is slow and gentle. Genji rocks his hips and pierces him so perfectly, a silver arrow seeking its mark, and as soon as he finds it Ramattra lets him know with a soft, warbling moan. His hands tangle in the sheets and his legs close around Genji’s back, pulling him in tighter, forcing him further and deeper inside of him. He’s so overwhelmed by that heated tightness closing around him that he just barely manages to keep himself upright.

His own voice is strained when he says “Have you done this before?”

“Taken something inside of me?”

“Yes.”

He turns his head, and Genji gets the impression that he’s stumbled across something that the Ravager doesn’t often speak about. He waits.

“You don’t have to tell me, if it is a sensitive subject.”

A snap of his faceplate back to him serves to reassure. “No,” he says. “A sensitive subject, no. It is a vulnerable position that I have only taken with one other individual, once before.”

He already knows who it is. He trusts Zenyatta with his life, surely he would trust him with this, too. “Sensei,” he breathes.

“Yes. He is a very good lover, and very convincing, too. I find such difficulty saying no to him, not that I’ve ever regretted not doing so.”

He finally hilts inside of Ramattra, prompting a little grunt out of him, before setting his pace. Slow and deep, the same pattern he treats Genji with, and it is just as effective with him, rendering him into a perfect, shivering little mess. 

Zenyatta is a good lover .

“My master is a good lay, you say?” because his curiosity has to get the best of him, doesn’t it?”

Ramattra nods, regaining enough sense to reply. “Yes, a supreme one. He’s tender, just like you. Patient, too. Wonderful stamina. Whatever I did, he would always outlast me.”

Their bodies gently rock into the mattress. Luckily the headboard doesn’t hit the wall. The only instruments of this symphony are their bodies. He moans and watches him consider the information he’s received.

Zenyatta has good stamina.

I have good stamina, too. We could go together .

He’s tender, and patient. Genji likes tenderness, appreciates patience, because it is something he lacks but enjoys nonetheless, a forbidden fruit he seldom tastes. 

Bad thoughts.

God, he wants him.

“He’s awfully fond of you, Genji,” Ramattra says, knowingly. “I’m sure he would love to have you.”

His rhythm gets faster, more desperate, as he grows closer to the edge, distracting himself from the fact that he wants . Ramattra curls into him, closes his legs around him, chants gently in his ear in Nepali and Binary. His core thrums, vents hissing. Ramattra comes undone and cinches around him, convulsing and sobbing depravedly through his orgasm, spewing clear lubricant out of his throbbing length and littering his abdominal plates with it. 

“You don’t know that,” he whispers, because he is his own harshest critic. 

Ramattra cups his face and draws him down onto his chest, slowing the harried rhythm of his hips. “I do. He loves you, Genji. Would give his life and more for you.”

Zenyatta loves him . 

Like an animal, he humps helplessly into Ramattra as he finishes spectacularly. A relieved sigh leaves his throat as he fills him in spurts. Warmth ebbs through his body, a delicate electric current that tickles his sensors in a pleasant, sensual way. The afterglow of his orgasm is mixed with fatigue, and his servos whirr as he flops down next to Ramattra, eagerly rolling into his embrace. 

“Do you want him, Genji?”

“I do.”

It’s not a pain, but an ache. He feels for him in such a teasing way, like a tiny thread at the back of his mind, constantly pulling. Zenyatta is such a gorgeous Omnic. Patient, wise, compassionate. Genji had admired him from the very beginning, for what he at first interpreted as naivety but now knew to be optimism. Something he’d lacked for a long time.

If only the world were filled with Zenyattas, perhaps it would be a perfect place to live. But that was not the case. There was only one.

And Genji wanted him. 

The Ravager strokes his back idly, counting each plate. “He sings you praises, Genji. Speaks of you all the time, even in his more private moments.”

Steam jets out of his exhaust vents, his face glowing bright red at the image that conjures up. It spurs up his fading arousal. He squirms against Ramattra and ruts against his thigh. “I don’t need to know that,” he says.

“Slip of the tongue,” Ramattra replies simply, a teasing note in his synth as he rubs his knee against Genji’s hardening shaft. “Well…not quite, but the point still stands. A simple phrase, and look what it does to you. Picturing something unsavory, little dragon~?”

“Shut it. J-Just let me-“

He trails off into a moan as he continues grinding against that firm, unforgiving metal. It serves as the groundwork for his drifting mind to wander into the territory of fantasizing. 

Would Zenyatta take him into his bed like this? Hold his body, whisper sweet nothings to him as he ruts against his slender thigh? Would his plating have the same sweet, oily taste when he lavs his tongue across it? What would he sound like when he orgasmed? How would he look, spread out and quivering, filled with Genji’s release?

His eyes slide shut, and in his mind all of the robotic parts stroking across his body belong to another being, kinder and gentler, knowing him better than any other. Ramattra whispers in his ear, things only Zenyatta would say. 

“You really do want him.”

Perhaps more than even he knew. 

“I do. I-I…”

Another orgasm. God, he’s a mess. He spasms horribly as his joints lock up and he deflates next to Ramattra, slickened by his own release. 

“Breathe, little one, breathe.”

“Don’t call me little…” He squeezes into Ramattra’s side. He’s tempted to get up and try for a bath, but his legs are quivering so badly he doesn’t know for certain that they would be able to hold his weight. 

“You should tell him.”

“Tell him what?”

“How you feel.”

Despite knowing that their relationship was open, Genji wasn’t aware that Ramattra would share his lover so willingly with him, especially considering their previous disdain for one another. How the times have changed. He feels almost guilty despite it, like he intended to steal Zenyatta from him. 

He turns his head and hides his reddened cheeks from him. “I couldn’t,” he whispers. 

“Genji.”

The Ravager grabs his chin and forces him to look at him. 

“What do you have to be afraid of?” he asks. “Zenyatta is the kindest, prettiest, most patient being on this earth. He loves you, trusts you with his life, speaks about you all the time and goes wherever you go. What reason would he have to say no to you, given the chance? Aurora’s sake, he might be preparing to ask you into his bed, as well, and beyond that.”

He whines and squeezes his eyes shut. “I-I don’t just want…sex with him, Ramattra. I want him.”

He feels ashamed just admitting it, something he’s never had the strength to admit to himself, but he’s so willing to just belt it out to Ramattra without prompting. 

He chuckles. “I know you want him. I would be surprised if you didn’t.”

“But I don’t want to split you apart. I know you share each other, but romantically -“

“Romantically, we would gladly have you.”

Genji looks up at him. Ramattra’s faceplate is static, and it reveals nothing about his internal emotions, but his tone was saccharine. It stokes the warm fire that burns low in his belly.

“Really?” he asks, quietly, because he isn’t sure he heard right.

He nods. “Obviously I cannot speak for certain on Zenyatta’s behalf, but I’m sure he shares the sentiment.”

Invited into their relationship. That wasn’t what he had been expecting. 

He’d never really had a true relationship. Much of his youth had been spent bouncing from person to person, looking for physical affection and nothing more. Doomed men can’t be choosers, and he’d pick what he could get. As long as there was someone to warm his bed, he was happy. But this was his chance to engage in something real, to truly have a relationship. One full of love and gives and takes, one where he is actually desired for more than just carnal affairs, and he doesn’t know what to do with it.

It changes him. 

Always eager to deflect, he smirks. “Did you just admit that you love me, Ramattra?”

“Yes.”

He blinks.

The war machine cackles heinously. “What, did you not expect me to say yes? ”

“N-Not particularly, no…”

“Well, I have grown awfully fond of you.” He pets his back, pulls his hood back and rustles his hair. “You’re quite sweet, you know.”

His face burns something fierce, and he hides it by nuzzling under his arm, still within reach of Ramattra’s hands that continue to comb through his short crop of black hair. A soft hum reverberates through his body, and he grins.

Normally, love confessions (not necessarily real ones, but the stupidly unrealistic ones he’d read about when he was younger) consist of more than just “you’re sweet”. But something tells him that Ramattra isn’t experienced with this, either. That’s alright. They’ll work through it together. 

Ramattra lifts his head and peers at him. “Lose your cockiness, Shimada?” he says. “Why so shy?”

“I-I am not shy.”

“This cute little display would seem to suggest otherwise.”

He growls, tangling his fist in the sheets and tugging. “Ugh, stop being so…”

“So what?” he asks tenderly.

He doesn’t continue his statement. He burrows his face into Ramattra’s side and bears it as he continues petting his head, cooing to him in Binary. 

“I’ll tell him,” he murmurs. “Today, I will. I’ll make time.”

He’s a man, for god’s sake. He can tell a robot he loves him.

Ramattra continues with his tender stroking. “Good. Come now, get up. You’re filthy.”

He rolls his eyes, but doesn’t resist as the Ravager unbinds himself from his limbs and scoops him up into his arms. “As if you hadn’t come all over yourself, too.”

“Hah. That is true.”

Genji should be able to get out of his hands, walk himself to the bathroom and have a perfectly ordinary bath by himself . But Ramattra is so warm, so strong. He carries him so effortlessly into the bathroom, bearing him on his lap as he draws water into the pristine white basin and tests the temperature before ever-so-tenderly depositing him inside of it. 

Ramattra is not partially human like he is, and doesn’t need to submerge himself in water to clean his skin. He stands at the counter, littered with more of his little trinkets, buffing and polishing and drying up the various fluids that have been flung onto his abdominal plates. The ninja admires the slender curvature of his waist. 

His hip suddenly tilts as he settles his weight onto one leg. “Stop watching me in the mirror and wash yourself, Genji,” he chastises. He sounds stern, but also amused. He’d likely be smirking if he were capable of it. 

His face goes ruddy, and he sheepishly scrubs his skin down with soap, tucking his eyes away into the corner. “Sorry.” He directs his attention by staring at a collection of candles.

“I do enjoy the attention, my dear, but not when there are more pertinent matters to attend to.”

His eyes slide shut as he scrubs his scalp with shampoo and conditioner, rinsing when applicable. He steps out eventually onto a dry towel, water cascading down his limbs. 

“Why do you have human soaps in here?” He traces his thumb over the labels on the bottles, pondering how full they are. They must have been a recent purchase.

“I bought them for you,” he says with a shrug, as if that were the most ordinary thing in the world. “I was hoping you would stop by in this manner eventually.”

Genji furrows his brows. “You were…expecting us to have sex in your room? Expecting me to use your bathroom afterwards?”

“A bit of a far-fetched prediction, I know. But we made love in your quarters already. It seems only fair we would break in mine, as well.” 

There’s a cheeky tone in his synth, and he hums to himself as he ties up his hair. 

He must have been looking forward to their coupling again. Genji’s relieved that he wasn’t the only one. 

“Do you really love me, Ramattra?”

He tilts his head. “Yes.”

There’s not nearly as much hesitation as he had been expecting. That is remarkable. He feels lightheaded. 

Ramattra’s body flexes as he twists about, displaying his shiny plating.