Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The sound of metal fragments and utensils hitting the floor filled the room.  A pregnant pause passed between the man who had just prior been cleaning his gun, and the scantily clad figure who had knocked everything down.

“Han, what did you do that for.”  Hanzo continued to stand at the opposite of the desk, one hand on his hip and head tilted, waiting for Jesse to raise his head so he can see the answer to his, admittedly stupid question.

“I figured you could use a break,” he responds in turn, still waiting for McCree to lift his head.  His tone continued to carry the disbelieving tone at being asked such a question.  “You’ve been cooped in here all day, neglecting other, more pressing matt-- ”

“And you think this is going to put you in my good fav--” He finally raised his head, only to have his the breath stop halfway up his throat, taking in Hanzo’s lusty outfit. “Or what he’s actually bothered to put on, good lord,” McCree thought to himself.

“As I was saying before you so rudely interrupted ,” a flimsy lace adored Hanzo said, making to climb onto the desk that separated the two, “you’ve been neglecting some rather… pressing matters at hand.”  Finally maneuvering his entire body on the desk, Hanzo stretched himself along the expanse of it, revealing the flimsy lace underwear he had on, erection visible and adding a vibrant sheen with the sticky cum that leaked from his exposed head.

“God, can you even call those--”

“I can probably imagine that you’re asking if these even constitute as underwear,” Hanzo’s hand makes its way slowly down his body, pausing momentarily to drag a thumb over a pointed nipple, a breezy laugh escaping his lips.  “I don’t even have to wonder; I know it’s true.  The look on your face says it all.”  A deeper chuckle left Hanzo’s lips when his fingers finally reached the strained fabric covering his erection.  “I can tell you what we should call it, though: a hinderance.”

At this, quicker than McCree can realize, Hanzo resituated himself on the desk, this time facing away from Jesse, a foot on either side of the desk, “ Longways…” Jesse realized once he collected himself enough to take in what was happening right before him.

“Why don’t you work your hands on something more gratifying, hmm?”  Steady, firm hips raised themselves off the table, further straining the lace, causing it to dig deeper down the middle of Hanzo’s ass.

Moments passed, too many by Hanzo’s expectations to what he was offering, beginning to turn around just as Jesse spoke.  “What on earth do you have on.”  The non-question stuck in the air, partly because Hanzo wasn’t sure if he was being asked a legitimate question, but mostly because he couldn’t believe he was asked two obviously stupid questions in a row.

“I thought it was obvious, but if I have to spell it out for you, I will.  It’s an outfit I knew would drive you wild.  You’ve been neglecting your duties, and I need you to return to them as soon as possible.”

Jesse stood up, lying his body on top of Hanzo’s, effectively trapping him in that downright vulgar position, bringing his mechanical hand up to lightly grasp Hanzo’s throat, tilting his chin up and to the side, staring straight into his eyes.

Warm breath was released just south of Hanzo’s ear, all the hairs on his arms rising to the stimulation.  He gave a tentative push back against the firm cock he could feel pressed into, biting his lip in anticipation of McCree falling into the trap he had set up.

“So if you don’t mind, you seem to have found a better use your time, and my patience is running thi--”

“What makes you think you’re more important to me than my gun?”  Caught off guard at being interrupted, the stun turned into a sputter as Hanzo registered the question at hand.  Lost for words, he remained silent while McCree slow, slowly, achingly slowly lifted his lower body off of Hanzo’s, rubbing along his nearly bare ass on his way.  “Honey, you mean the world to me, you’d best believe, but I can’t have you letting that get to your head.”  As he spoke, Hanzo felt movement just above his ass, the sudden sound of a belt being removed from its loops filling the tense room.  By the time everything sunk in, Hanzo became aware his right leg was strapped onto the table somehow, not clear headed enough to figure out how.  

Jesse’s metal hand settled itself on Hanzo’s unrestrained left leg, flesh hand pushing down on the center of Hanzo’s broad shoulders.  Hanzo choked out a gasp when Jesse dropped his weight onto his body once more, pushing forward enough to force Hanzo’s legs to spread wider along the desk.

“I think we need to teach you that the world doesn’t revolve around you,” the warm breath ghosted down his neck, a flinch towards the breath the only reaction coming from Hanzo.  “Not even mine, sugar, as much as you want to believe.  You need discipline,” a deep inhale from McCree before he continued, “a punishment for a spoiled prince like you.”  The last words were nearly spit out of McCree’s mouth, colored harsh and cutting from the near disgust with which they were said.

Before Hanzo could react, a swift hand came down and struck his right cheek roughly.  It did not lift from the immediately reddened skin for a few second, coming down a second and third time, faster each time.  Wails escaped Hanzo’s mouth, inevitably becoming whimpers as McCree spoke between the harsh slaps.

“It’s high time I put you in your place,” a slap broad enough to cross both cheeks in one motion, becoming two with a swipe of his backhand.  “Thinking yourself so high and mighty, better than me, don’t you?” A firm backhand to the left cheek, becoming a full handed hold as Jesse waited for a response.  “Think you own me, don’t you darlin’?  That’s why you think you can do this shit ,” he moved his metal hand towards Hanzo’s neck again, forcing him to crane towards the hastily discarded gun pieces, “and be cute enough to get away with it.”  The metal hand drops Hanzo’s neck, returning to the unrestrained leg, slightly raising it as his flesh hand comes down hard on the pink tinged ass, reddening it as vibrantly as it had just been with three quick slaps.  “But I know you, sugar,” McCree laughed, doing nothing to calm Hanzo down, instead causing a more nervous reaction.  

“Just as well as you know what I’m thinking, I know your game.”  Two more slaps on each cheek echo throughout the room before he continues.  “You want this treatment.  Always giving me cues to assert myself over you, secretly disappointed when I don’t step up to the plate; no use denying it, hon, I can see it clear as day.”  A loud wail was released into the room at that, Hanzo subconsciously raising his hips as if asking for more, his agreement clear as day.

“You’re needy,” a slap to the left cheek, “and lewd, I mean look at you right now,” a slap to the right cheek, hand settling there momentarily, “dressed worse for wear than a desperate middle aged housewife, trying her hardest to rekindle the lost spark in her marriage.”  Two consecutive spanks to each cheek.  

McCree’s metal hand fisted into Hanzo’s hair, pulling his entire upper body from the desk top, legs strained as they spread further to support all the weight settling on his hips.

“But don’t worry, sweetheart, that’s never gonna happen to us.  Even when you pull bitch moves like this,” another, more violent push of his head in the direction of the gun, before being pulled back, already taut spine bending expertly to handle the rough handling.  “You’ll always be mine, and not the other way around. ”

Before Hanzo could react, he pitched himself as forward as he could, a loud groan bordering on a yell let out into the room as he came between the tight space of his body and the stiff desktop.  He slumped forward, Jesse quickly gathering his upper body in both arms as Hanzo became boneless, breath ragged from the force of his orgasm.

“Shit, Han, are you okay?”  McCree hugged Hanzo firmly in the cradle of his arms, leaving small kisses on his neck as he waited for Hanzo to regain his breathing.  “Did I go too far?  I didn’t hear the safe word, an-and you didn’t make any moves to tell me--  Are you okay?”  Still panting roughly, Hanzo nodded into McCree’s arms, rubbing the tears into the shirtsleeves before Jesse had a chance to see and feel guilty about that as well.

Once his breathing evened out, McCree made a move to raise himself off of Hanzo’s back, but was met with a shake of Hanzo’s head.  “Stay, Jesse, I’m all right, I promise.”  The smile on Hanzo’s lips could be heard over his panting.  “That was even better than our last session, I can say that.”

“Shit Han, are you serious?  I didn’t overdo it with the spanking?  Because past the quiet whimpers and yelps, I could hear the low groans, and could feel the slight movements you were making to rub up against the desk, and spotted that little bit of saliva you let out, don’t try to deny it--”

“It was perfect, McCree!”  A red-faced Hanzo bowed his head, some shame settling onto his hidden features. A few breaths pass between the two of them before Hanzo continues, “Or it would be perfect if we finished this up as we had planned.”  McCree spotted the small smile hidden beneath the curtain of Hanzo’s loose hair, staying in place until Hanzo completely bowed his head down, effectively hiding his face when he spoke again.

“I seemed to have a made a mess on your workstation, McCree.  Surely you can’t let that slip by.”

A sneer spread on McCree’s face at being referred to by his surname again, falling into the persona he had built for this particular game they played. “Hmph, you’re right about that, in more ways than one.  I am pretty upset about my workstation being defiled by you,” a quick tug on the belt securing Hanzo’s right leg had it freed, quickly snatched  along with the other to slide Hanzo off of the desk, so he was bent over behind it on the same side as McCree.  The metal hand found its way into Hanzo’s hair again, pushing the head down onto the desktop, inches away from splatter of cooling cum.

“I am genuinely pissed that you would throw my gun on the floor as carelessly as you did, and I plan on making you pay for it and then some.”

“What do you have in mind for me, Mr. McCree?”  A reckless near silent whisper, Hanzo’s anticipation and desire clouding his mind rather quickly, breath coming out rushed and light.

“Well, sugar, first you’re gonna clean up this mess you made here,” a violent shove, causing his head to move an inch closer to the splattered mess, “without using your hands, if you catch my drift.  And once that’s done, the real punishment can begin.”

Hanzo’s deep moaned response nearly overpowered McCree, but he kept his resolve, gently nudging Hanzo’s face closer to the mess with every soft thrust onto Hanzo’s ass.

The first stripe of cum licked off the desk top had them both moaning.

“Oh Hanzo, I should spank you more often if it makes you this compliant.”

Another thick, cum-coated moan was the only response.

Chapter Text

I.

Hanzo had walked into the room just in time to catch the tail end of a conversation between McCree and Zenyatta.

“...no, see, in this instance, I mean it to describe the situation we’re in.  It’s a tough situation, so it’s a bitch situation, you get it?”

The omnic, though floating, looked as stumped as was possible.  His gentle voice did not betray the monotonous tone, but his words easily revealed his confusion.  “I’m… starting to understand, but it may take some time for me to wrap my head around such a-- well, such a violent phrase.  Thank you for explaining it to me, Mr. McCree.”  He waved politely as he turned away, McCree calling after him.

“Don’t get caught up in a bitch!”  McCree laughed after him, not noticing Hanzo scurrying out of the room the same way he came in.  He did not once stop his hurried walk until he entered his private quarters, sliding down the door, panting as if he had run a few kilometers and not a few meters.  

Before he was fully seated, Hanzo made to grab himself through his sweats, rubbing his half chubbed cock through the fabric, muffling his moans into his fist.

---

II.

Breakfast the next morning was a torrid affair.  For whatever reason, half the team seemed to be a sour mood, a quiet hum of murmurs passing amongst themselves only out of necessity.  The worst mood of the bunch, surprisingly, belonged to the resident cowboy.  Not a word had escaped his lips the entire morning, keeping to himself in a corner of the dining commons and avoid any of the scarce chatter.

Finished with his meal, and wanting to avoid the ever increasing volume of chatter, Hanzo made his way to place his dishes in the dishwasher, squatting down to organize the mess when it happened.

The noise level in the room had grown substantially, most of it being complaints from various members.  The tension in the room grew as much as the volume did, reaching its peak with the cacophony.

It snapped when McCree’s boisterous voice exploded out of his mouth.

“If y’all can quit your bitching , it would be greatly appreciated.”

The noise stopped immediately, every member’s heart racing, thumping loudly in their chest from a combination of fear and surprise.

All except Hanzo.  Hanzo’s heart beat as wildly as his teammates’, but his was from arousal, not trepidation.  Sweat beaded on his forehead, blood rushing -- all south -- through his veins, breath coming out stunted and rough.  Pressing his forehead against the now closed dishwasher door, Hanzo squeezed his legs together, wishing and willing his erection away.  Pressing harder against the door, a small whimper left his lips, barely audible but still sending a shiver down Hanzo’s spine.

“How shameless, reacting like this in the middle of breakfast…”  He thought to himself, planning his escape from the dining hall to take care of his problem.

He needn’t wait long, as a couple of shouts of displeasure were called out, creating a newer, more tense air in the room.

Hanzo crawled out through the door before the first pancake was thrown.

---

III.

Bruises bloomed down up and down his neck, rough bites littering every space possible on his pecs.  He bounced happily on McCree’s lap, mewls and cries of pleasure freely leaving his mouth, tongue almost lolling out from the pleasure.

“Look at you, Han.  So desperate for my cock.  Damn near knocked my head off my shoulders when you ran straight at me to get my attention.”  He slapped the bouncing ass in his lap with the right hand, earning him an obscenely loud moan from the archer.  A quick bite under Hanzo’s chin, another slap to his ass.

“So collected, so pristine,” a deep inhale, a small chuckle, “and then you come crawling back to me after pretending you don’t even know me.  Acting like some bitch --” another slap, this time with his left hand, “in heat.  Coming to me, basically spread legs first, hole already slicked up and pawed open.  Must not have been too difficult for you, what with you always sneaking away to take care of your little problem.”

It should have garnered a response from Hanzo, but the feeling of McCree’s thick cock spreading him wider than any of his toys, fingers, and combination of them both ever could had him too far gone.  

To put it simply, Hanzo was fucked.

“Yeah honey, I know what that word does to ya.  Try to sprinkle it in as much as I can when I know you’re around.  Try to catch you off guard, wondering how long it would take for you to crack.”  Hanzo released a garbled moan, mouth agape and saliva dripping, eyes half lidded and pupils blown.  “I guess I know my answer, then.”  Another dark chuckle, and Hanzo suddenly found himself lying flat on his back, large hands settling just shy of the v of his groin, effectively spreading his legs wider.

“Show me how desperate you can get, darlin’, and I’ll give you exactly what a bitch like you deserves.”

A small spurt, a loud cry, and Hanzo was right where McCree wanted him.

Chapter Text

“Hard or soft?”

Scenes of domesticity flashed before Jesse McCree’s eyes.  Visions of early morning trysts, kisses full of laughter, pleasant company forever and always flooded every corner of the man’s mind.  He had gotten at least 15 years into the future in his imaginary life with this beautiful stranger before he was reeled back to reality.

“Sir? Would you like hard or soft--”

“Oh damn, baby, you could have it any way you want . ”

A shove from his friend brought him back, and he realized what he had just said.  Out loud.  Loudly.  The soft crunch of tacos stopped as every patron in the store gawked towards the assembly line, the sea of faces showing some level of disgust and shock.

Jesse froze, a deep red blooming on his face, sputtering for breath.  He reached out to his friend, looking for way to ground himself.  After a few failed attempts to say anything, his friend came through.

“He’ll have the soft shell TACOS, right Jesse?”  The pointed look his friend aimed at him was not lost, causing Jesse to shrink into himself and lower his head in shame.  He nodded slightly, staying silent as his friend ordered the rest of the tacos from the handsome employee that had no reason to be working a blue collar job, goddamn.  

The more Jesse looked at the handsome stranger (from safely behind his shorter friend’s back), the more he decided that the man would be better suited to a life filled with stress-free days, lounging on expensive seaside patios, sleeping on Egyptian cotton sheets every night, sitting on Jesse’s big, hard coc--

Jesse exhaled sharply, startling both the handsome man and his friend, before they continued their rapport.  Sweat beaded on his brow, wanting to excuse himself from the situation, but knowing his friend would never let him live it down if he did.  He muscled through it, averting his eyes as soon as he thought the most gorgeous man in the world began raising his head.

Hanging back while his friend paid, he missed the small interaction between the two, getting startled out of his forced nonchalant aura by his friend shoving a crumpled receipt into his chest, saying nothing and walking out as Jesse floundered with the piece of paper.  He chased after his friend, exiting the store just as he unfurled the receipt and read the message on the bottom.

He failed at keeping his gasp a respectable volume, startling his second crowd in 15 minutes.

Meet me out by the alley in 20 min

“I’m gonna die,” was Jesse’s eloquent response.

----

He found the handsome worker smoking in the alley, sitting in the back of an open Volkswagon bus -- a shag wagon , Jesse thought to himself-- waving a tiny wave when the man looked up at him.

“You came.”

Oh sweet merciful god, I almost just did.  A deep inhale, and Jesse nervously chuckled his response, “Yeah, I was nervous at first, but I thought to myself, there’s no hurt in going, just to see what you want-- Not that I’m expecting anything from you! I just, I’m just-- geez, I’m rambling, I mean how could I not, I’m talking with one of, if not the most, beautiful man on earth and I have no idea why , but I--!”

He was interrupted by a cigarette butt narrowly missing his face.  Broken out of his rambling, Jesse recounted his rambling, face turn more and more red with every passing second, before a light voice spoke out.

“I did call you out here with purpose,” the man said, moving to stand from his perch in the car, “so you’re not wrong there.  As for the rambling,” the man dusted his hands off as he approached Jesse, “I’m not surprised by it honestly.  I cause that reaction a lot.”

He stood not more than a foot away from Jesse, arms crossed, head tilted as he shamelessly took in an eyeful of Jesse.  Jesse returned the favor, noticing a small name tag on the man’s lapel, a golden little thing with the name HANZO written in black bold face.  Appearing satisfied with what he saw, Hanzo reached out a hand and grabbed Jesse’s bolo tie, dragging his face down a few inches to be level with Hanzo’s.  A smirk fitted itself on that ridiculously handsome face , jerking back slightly in the direction of the ancient car, maintaining eye contact.

“Get in the car and take off your pants.”

Jesse didn’t even let the man finish before he all but jumped into the car, stumbling and fumbling and all around making a fool of himself in the relatively small space.  Hanzo smiled, knowing he had just bagged a very eager, no doubt passionate man to pass his break with.

He calmly climbed in just as Jesse had fully removed his pants, closing and locking the door before settling himself on the man’s very eager erection.

---

Contrary to the day’s happenings, Jesse McCree was very hard to surprise and catch off guard.  However, he was also a red-blooded young man, and as such was adept to falling victim to these things every now and then.  But there was absolutely no amount of mental preparation that would have prepared Jesse for the kind of lover Hanzo turned out to be.

It was one thing to be basically mounted as soon as the car doors were shut.  It was another to be shoved down roughly, hands suddenly full of a round, supple ass, Hanzo nosing his neck, causing him to crane to the left, getting an eyeful of the assortment of condoms and lubes inches from his face.  It was another thing entirely to find out that Hanzo was not only fully prepped -- “I thought of you the entire time,” referring to the 20 minutes he told Jesse to wait before coming to the alley -- but also wearing a goddamn enormous butt plug to keep himself ready.  Jesse had choked on the puckered nipple he had been sucking on when his fingers had grazed over Hanzo’s hole, fingers twitching and clenching on the meat of his ass uncontrollably.

Currently, McCree was being ridden harder than he’d ever been ridden before in his life , wondering if he’d died and gone to heaven.

“You kn-know I don’t usually do this.”  Jesse followed that up by digging his fingers deeper into Hanzo’s shapely hips, bringing him down hard on his cock, keeping him still so he can grind tight little circles into the man above him.  

Though panting heavily, Hanzo managed to let out a soft laugh.  “I don’t either,” he said as he flipped his hair over his shoulder, turning his head to look back Jesse.  He leaned forward to stretch out his back, arching it as he bent and using his hands to support himself, ass popping out more prominently in the new position.  Fully coming to rest on his chest, Hanzo set his head on the shag carpet and looked directly into Jesse’s eyes.

“But when I see something I want, I take it.”

Jesse thought he had an aneurysm and had truly died and gone to heaven.  Instead, once his  thoughts were collected, he found himself bent over Hanzo’s back, left leg kneeling as he put his weight into the powerful thrusts he was fucking into Hanzo.

If possible, Hanzo’s wails grew louder than before, and the bus was rocking harshly from side to side.

---

Outside the bus, passersby tried, and failed, not to notice the obvious activities happening in the bus parked in the alleyway, if the loud moans and obvious rocking were anything to go by.

Chapter Text

“Your hair looks nice down.”

A simple phrase uttered by a not so simple man. An fleeting comment, one the speaker probably thought nothing of since first said.

Hanzo, on the other hand, had lost sleep over it.

And the sleep he did have contained dreams; dreams of two hands, one flesh and the other metal, running their coarse fingers through the locks, left hand unintentionally snagging more often than not.

The thought drove Hanzo wild, as he yearned to turn his dreams into reality.

Months passed with nothing to show for it. Almost nothing, that is.

“I haven’t seen this look on you in over a decade, brother, why the change?” Genji flicked a loose strand of hair from Hanzo’s back, narrowly avoiding the elbow aimed for his side. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with a certain someone complimenting you a while back would it--”

“If you already know, then you already know. I do not have time for your teasing, Genji.” Hanzo pulled his loose hair away from Genji, gathering it into a self-sustaining knot at the top of his head. “But if you must hear it, then yes: this does have something to do with a certain someone.”

Although masked, Hanzo knew Genji sported nothing less than a shit eating grin. “I’m really liking the new you, brother. It’s refreshing to know you’ve moved on from having a stick up your ass to wanting a certain cowboy’s stick--”

“That is enough!” The lunge Hanzo took unraveled his hair, allowing it to drape over his face and down his back, casting him in a ferocious light as he tried and missed hitting his brother. He thought of chasing Genji’s retreating form, thought of punching his brother hard enough to knock the breath out of him, as impossible as that was. Instead, he steadied his voice as he cried out, “You can bet my ass I’ll make him my new throne!”

Watching Genji stumble and crash into the wall was worth the embarrassment quickly reddening his cheeks, Hanzo mused.

Months passed and hair grew. For the first time in his life, Hanzo had more hair than he knew what to do with-- or at least, what he wished to do with. Unfortunately, an ill-timed mission had put his plans on the back burner, the object of his desires shipped out on duty for the last two months.

Hanzo took it in stride, begrudgingly thankful for the extra time to perfect his hair, and his plans. His plans to ensnare the cowboy, seduce him with his wit and charm, amongst other things. He had just put the finishing touches to his master plan when a cough at the entrance of the shooting range distracted him, resulting in a scattering of thoughts and arrows alike.

“Agent McCree.” And there he stood, just as ruggedly handsome as Hanzo remembered. “I was unaware of your return.” The lack of waver in his voice astounded him, but the waver in his legs did not.

“You can just call me Jesse, sug, we’ve been over this,” McCree laughed. “And I came back early, seemed like there was no need for little ol’ me.” A dark smile crossed his face as he noticed Hanzo take a quick glance down. “Well, I suppose little might be the wrong word to describe me.”

Lowering his head, Hanzo allowed his hair to cover his face, disguising his embarrassment as a sudden interest in his bow. He fiddled with the string as he heard steps approach him, and only looked up when spurred boots entered his line of sight.

Get it together, Hanzo, he urged himself, this is what we’ve been practicing for!

With newfound resolve set in his mind, Hanzo raised his head, brushed a thick lock of hair behind his ear, and smiled at the cowboy, letting his fingers run through the strands all the way down to the ends by his ribs. His fingers stayed there, toying with the ends, watching McCree’s eyes dart, divided between his hair and his eyes.

“Is there something you needed, Jesse?” Hanzo did not miss the exaggerated bob of McCree’s Adam’s apple, nor did he miss the way McCree licked his lips. “I’m very busy, so if you’ll excuse me--”

“Do you wanna fuck?”

A loud clatter rang through the range as Hanzo’s bow became acquainted with the ground. Neither moved to react, simply staring the other down in shocked silence, mouths agape.

McCree sprung into action first, taking a half step back from Hanzo, fumbling for words. “Aw shit-- I didn’t mean that. Well-- I did! But not like that, not that fast. I-- just want--”

“Yes,” Hanzo muttered, closing the gap McCree had created. “Yes,” he said louder, throwing his arms around McCree’s broad shoulders. “Yes!” He shouted, all but dragging McCree across the room and out the door, headed in the direction of his private quarters.

“That’s a real pretty picture you’re making, Han,” McCree gasped, folding his arms behind his head. “Why don’t you bounce for me a little, settle in nice and tight.”

Unable to do anything but nod, Hanzo sank down, taking in McCree’s cock in one go. The groan that left his lips shook him to his core, shocked that he had released it himself, and from nothing more than finally taking all of McCree’s cock. Shame was but a shadow in his mind, quickly stamped out by something close to pride.

A few thrusts had Hanzo keening, falling forward from the force, head lying close to McCree’s own. They shared a kiss, more tongue and teeth than lips, gasping breath kept between them. A harsh snap of McCree’s hips had Hanzo biting down on his lip, a groan emitting from them both.

Moving in tandem, they broke the kiss, lips lingering for several long moments, pulling apart only to reconnect a few times before fully releasing. Hanzo lifted himself from McCree, moving across the other to rest on his hands and knees. McCree took the hint, positioning himself behind Hanzo, offering a curt slap as he moved.

McCree wasted no time settling in, guiding Hanzo’s hips back into his own with his hands, fingertips digging into the taut skin. A few hard bucks had Hanzo collapsing onto his chest, arms giving out from the intensity of the passion overtaking his blood, skin, flesh.

As he felt the cusp of orgasm begin to consume him, he heard his voice break through the cacophony of their sex. “Pu...Pull my hair!”

McCree continued his thrusts, despite his pained words. “H-Han, I c-can’t-- that’s--”

“ Please!”

“ Sweet Mary, mother of God.” The thrusts came down harder, more haphazard in their search for release. “Beg me for more.”

“ PLEASE, JESSE!”

Releasing his right hand from Hanzo’s hip, McCree took a handful of dark, black locks, and pulled. Hanzo groaned at the sensation, eyes rolling back into his head with every tug. Feeling McCree’s grip start to wane, Hanzo let out a growl, ready to beg anew for another pull.

Huffing in return, McCree released the hair fully, letting the tresses flow through his fingers to settle onto Hanzo’s back. “I’ll be damned if I don’t see this through.” He lifted his left arm, wrapping the length of the hair around his forearm, and buried his fingers along the hair at Hanzo’s scalp.

With a careful yank, McCree dragged Hanzo’s head back at the same time delivering a powerful thrust, bodily pushing Hanzo forward, a few stray strands getting caught in the crooks of his arm. With another pull, Hanzo saw stars, both from pleasure and pain, as he came forcefully onto the bed.

Chapter Text

“And what’s the pose called, darlin’?”

Hanzo waited until he reached the final form of the pose before replying. “This one is called the, un--humble warrior.” He held the pose for a few deep breaths, allowing the air to fill his lungs before slowly pulling out of the pose, moving to mirror it on the other side. “Must you watch while I go through my sequence?”

McCree said nothing, eyes zeroing in on the expanse of thigh and ass the pose provided for him, stumbling out of his stupor after a pointed cough. “And miss the view? I wouldn’t miss this for the world.” Their gaze met briefly as Hanzo broke the pose, McCree throwing the other a wink for his efforts.

Exhaling, Hanzo leveled himself before moving on, laying on the ground with his arms by his hips. Looking straight ahead, he raised his legs perpendicular to his body, ignoring the wolf whistle coming from McCree. With careful precision, he brought his legs closer and closer to his face, keeping them together. By the time he wiggled his toes in the air above his head, he had heard the older man release a gasp, a moan, and a sly whistle.

“Is there something on your mind, Mr. McCree?” Despite the pose, Hanzo’s voice came out strong, no strain or huffs of air complicating his breathing. He took pride in the hitch both in the other’s breath and pants.

“I, uh… I didn’t know you could bend like that, hun.” McCree’s gulp echoed in Hanzo’s head, the bob in his throat a sight he knew he’d never forget. “What’s… goddamn, what’s this one called?” McCree stood from his seat, walking on his knees closer to Hanzo, stopping just out of reach. “You, you think you can bring your legs down more?”

With a smirk, Hanzo replied, “I could, but I would need a little push. Would you mind?” Before he even finished the sentence, McCree had already crawled between his legs, hands settling on the backs of his upturned thighs, and squeezed. “Mr. McCree, if I didn’t know any better I would think this was your plan all along.”

“Guilty as charged, honey. But if we’re being fair, I think you bein’ able to stretch like this is more criminal than my ulterior motives,” he chuckled softly, the puffs of breath falling across Hanzo’s face. “You want me to push down? Right here?”

Hanzo groaned as he felt the other’s hips nudge directly against his ass, his yoga pants doing nothing to shield him from the thick bulge pressing down on him. “Y-yes that’s… that’s perfect, actually.” Another groan left his mouth when he felt the thick cock stir against his ass, knowing it had been caused by the fact that his toes has touched the ground over his head.

They stayed in that position for a few moments, Hanzo taking in a few deep breaths while trying to ignore both the erection not-so-subtly grinding against his balls, and his own erection leaking in his pants. A tiny cough and a glance between them had them separating, McCree crawling a few paces away to watch Hanzo slowly release himself of the pose. Their pants filled the distance between them with hot breath, both of them seeing the hunger in the other’s eyes.

Gathering his breath, McCree asked, “What pose have you got next, honey?” His eyes followed a path down Hanzo’s prone form, stopping to watch his chest heave from exertion, and not from the stretches.

A blush overtook Hanzo’s cheeks at that. Near silent, he moved closer to McCree, reaching out to grasp at McCree’s stubbled chin, thumb smoothing down the prickled hair there. “Something that will put your mouth to good use, if you don’t mind.”

“I wouldn’t mind anything you could think to do to me, sugar.”

“Then it’s settled.” And before McCree could have a chance to ask anything, Hanzo pushed him down flat, quickly reaching for the straining zipper to ease it down. The lack of underwear left Hanzo with a surprised look on his face, as unsurprising as the feat was. “Lie still, Mr. McCree, I need concentration for this next pose.”

“Don’t gotta--”

“And silence as well. I wouldn’t want to slip up and hurt you in any way, now would I?” His chuckle rang through the room, aborted huffs passing through his lips as he struggled to remove all of his clothes. “That’s the last of it. Are you ready, Mr. McCree?” Silent met his question. “You learn quick. Stay perfectly still for me, please.”

With a single swing of his leg, Hanzo straddled McCree’s face, hovering over him by mere inches. Looking down, Hanzo smiled at McCree’s raised eyebrows, laughing at his confused expression. “This one is called King Pigeon Pose.”

Carefully, Hanzo shifted all of his weight onto his knees, sitting fully onto McCree’s face and effectively smothering the gasp of surprise. Tucking his chin in, he began to bend backwards, rolling the knobs of his spine one by one as he went, hands falling to each side of McCree’s hips to brace for impact. In one smooth motion, Hanzo laid his head on the plane of McCree’s stomach, used one hand to grab McCree’s dripping cock, and shoved it into his open, waiting mouth.

A loud moan pierced the air, stemming from them both. Not one to be outdone, McCree set his mouth to work, hands raising to spread Hanzo’s ass, a long lick drawing out a hum from them both.

“Y-you sure are somethin’, ain’tcha,” McCree said between laves, “doin’ all this back breaking work.”

Hanzo’s mouth hollowed in response, tongue licking as much of the shaft as he could in his position. He tucked his spine into a tighter arc, pressing down onto McCree’s face more forcefully with a swirl of his hips.

After nearly a minute, Hanzo pulled the now dripping cock out of his mouth, saliva dripping freely down toward his cheeks and nose. A gentle roll to the side and Hanzo pulled away from McCree, lying opposite the older man.

“Did you— did you l-like it?” Hanzo pushed the words out against his pants, strain shaking his voice.

McCree let out a low whistle. “Sure did, I sure did.” He slapped Hanzo’s ass playfully. “You got another pose to show me?”

Sitting up slightly, Hanzo met McCree’s gaze, a look of pure lust shared between them. “Just one more. Have you heard of Yogic Sleep Pose? It’s the pose where I tie my ankles behind my head—”

“No, but I’m already sold.”

Chapter Text

Hanzo distantly recalled that the Hunter only wore gloves while on a hunt.

He knew from experience: the countless miles he trekked to keep him in his sights, the bodies he would step over to maintain just enough distance.

The smell of fresh blood and old leather mingling together into the most perfect blend when the Hunter took his proof for the bounty on his target’s head.

Nevertheless, the memories of learning old habits from a new interest flashed before his eyes any time he looked at the Hunter from his hiding places. Now though, with the Hunter looking back, Hanzo could not help but notice that the Hunter had his gloves on, but did not lift his weapons against him.

Hanzo never backed down from a challenge, regardless of origin or reward, but he felt heat spread through his body, his long cold body shivering under the heavy gaze. No one had made Hanzo shiver in decades, but the mn cocking an eyebrow at the demon beckoned forgotten responses from him with ease.

“No need to tremble, darlin’,” the Hunter called out, “if I’da wanted you dead, you’da known weeks ago.”

Despite the news that his stalking had gone noticed far longer than he could have imagined, Hanzo kept perfectly still. New tremors washed down his body at the sound of the Hunter’s voice. For all the weeks and all the distance he had followed, Hanzo had never heard the Hunter utter a single word. Intoxication was a long forgotten feeling, yet he felt overcome with the heady sway as if he had just drunk scores of bottles of the finest alcohol available.

The Hunter’s voice, along with his skill, was a newfound vice.

“Look, you can either join me for supper or stay out there. No skin off my nose either way, but I’d really like to get to meet my stalker proper after who knows how long you’ve been trailin’ me.”

The oni sniffed at that, his mind made up since the first baritone note fell from the Hunter’s lips, but using the overt invitation as an excuse to come nearer. If the Hunter wanted to welcome trouble into his midst, then Hanzo would be more than happy to provide.

“Let me get a right look a’tcha, been wanting to put a face to the eyes I’ve been feeling for days now.” The Hunter’s eyes glistened with the reflection of the campfire, as serious and playful as the light bouncing off of them. “An oni if I had to guess, ain’t that right?”

“You would be correct with that presumption, yes.”

The Hunter whistled as his only response. Hanzo slightly bristled, his shivering amplifying from the proximity of the man’s voice. He walked closer still, his stride slow but steady.

The Hunter’s eyes trailed up and down his body, a steady rhythm in their rise and descent the closer Hanzo got. They only stopped when Hanzo did, his destination not an inch away from the Hunter’s resting place. The fire licked at his back as his shadow draped the other in darkness, his stare unbroken and glistening despite it all. At any other moment Hanzo would have found it peculiar, but he found his thoughts otherwise occupied.

“My name is Hanzo.”

“Van Helsing McCree, at your service. It’s a pleasure to meet ya.” He extended his right arm out, leaning back just enough to give himself the semblance of propriety.

Hanzo’s eyes looked away from the Hunter’s face for the first time since the exchange began.

The leather glove adorning Jesse McCree’s right hand reeked of gunpowder, spilt enchanted blood, rainwater; a potpourri of everything that gave the Hunter his prowess, his prestige, his title. In all his years, Hanzo had never smelled anything more intoxicating.

“Please,” Hanzo let out a small sigh as he kneeled before McCree. “The pleasure is all mine.”

He opened his mouth and took the offered thumb between his lips, closing his eyes as he heard the leather move, the hand moving to cradle his face.

Chapter Text

“Agent McCree, your presence is requested in Agent Shimada’s room, at your convenience.”

McCree didn’t have to look up from the end of the cigar he had between his lips, the tip glowing red as it finally caught the light. A few particles of ash fell as he took in a deep drag, the breeze carrying the soot away from him. He took another before he lifted his free hand to his ear. “Is it who I think it is?”

“Who else but?” With every passing day, the line between AI and humanity blurred.

“Roger that, let him know I’m on my way right now. And also let him know that I can see through his ‘at your convenience’ bullshit.”

The cigar burned steadily as he made his way through the base. He crossed paths with no one, unsure if coincidence struck or his gait and smell gave him a wide breadth. Not that he would have wanted to cross paths with anyone. Not with what he expected lay waiting for him in Hanzo’s room. Not with what he hoped to find.

Halfway through the cigar and he found himself standing outside of Hanzo’s door, the code and print scans a nuisance for as much time as he’s spent in these private quarters. With a hushed swish, the doors opened and revealed...nothing.

McCree raised an eyebrow at the lack of fanfare, but said nothing. He took a step in, just enough to let the door close behind him, before he pulled the chewed up cigar from his mouth, rolling the smoke on his tongue before speaking. “Never took you for one to play hide n’ seek, darlin’.” He eyes the shoes on the rack, noticing they were all accounted for. “But if it’s a game you want, then I’m in.”

Hanzo’s empty suite had no answers to give, but a rustle from his room offered an in.

He walked through the living area, mindful of his boots and the ash threatening to fall with every step. The cigar settled between his teeth just as he raised a fist to knock on the door, his metal hand coming to rest on the frame. “Ya decent in there, Han?” No response. “I can come back later if you need.”

A response came in the form of a frustrated grunt. “Enter.” The word sounded bitten off and close, as if pushed through gritted teeth. “I did not expect you to come so promptly, but I will make do.”

“Make do with what? If you want me to come ‘round later, just say so.” The door swung open enough to let him in, his arm returning to settle on the door frame as he moved to pull the cigar from his mouth. It froze halfway as he took in the sight before him.

In the middle of his floor, atop a plush rug, Hanzo lied naked and wanting. Knees bent, he had his feet planted firmly on the bed frame, thighs stiff from the pressure to keep his hips raised and swirling. One hand busied itself with brushing fringe away from his sweaty face, propped up and tucked in so he can look at McCree upside down. The other hand drew lazy symbols in the pool of cum staining Hanzo’s stomach. Neither moved as they drank in the sight of each other.

“Can’t see how you can ‘make do’ when you’re already everything and more, sug.” McCree twirled the cigar in his hand, having come close to biting off the tip. “You plannin’ on surprising me?”

“That and more,” his breathy voice rumbled as he wrapped a fist around himself. “But your shocking display of punctuality never fails to catch me off guard.”

McCree’s eyes rose and fell at the same speed as Hanzo’s hand. “Still surprised me.”

His eyes stayed glued on Hanzo’s most intimate parts as he moved toward the bed, watching the way he reached lower and lower with every step he drew nearer. He stopped Hanzo from sitting up with a shake of his head, watched his hair fan out as he settled back onto the floor, heard more than saw Hanzo turning on whatever it was inside him. A shiver ran down both their backs simultaneously.

Taking a seat on the bed, McCree spread his legs out, encasing Hanzo between them. He nudged the bottom of Hanzo’s ass with the blunt side of his boot, taking in a drag and talking around the quickly shrinking cigar. “You gonna finish what you started?”

Hanzo nodded stiffly, hiking his left leg up as he moved to grab his cock again. He jerked roughly when McCree delicately stepped on the inside of Hanzo’s thigh, spreading him open even more. The words died on Hanzo’s lips, their moaning ghosts music to McCree’s ears.

“It might not’ve gone the way you wanted, Sweetheart, but color me surprised regardless.” The zipper snapped under his metal fingers in his controlled race to free himself. “How many you pulled so far?”

“Two.”

“Mmm,” the final drag from his cigar leaked out to blanket Hanzo’s warm body. “Reckon I can pull another one from ya? Before this really starts?”

Chapter Text

When Jesse McCree finally arrived at Watchpoint Gibraltar, he brought with him only three things: the clothes on his back, his gun, and a potted plant.

Many had questions lined up for him as soon as he walked through the front door: How have you been?; Surely you’re joking; Why a plant of all things? He answered every and all questions with ease, honest to a point and stretching the truth when the answers would have led to more questions.

“Jesse, are you all right? Your arms, they’re--”

“I’m quite all right, thank ya for askin’, now if you’ll excuse me, I just traveled to hell and back to get here and would like to relax after fielding all your questions.” He spoke tiredly, but firm, exhaustion creeping through the feeling of shared excitement.

“Of course, right this way. Would you like to take your plant to the greenhouse? It’s looking a little wilted.” Winston already had his back turned to McCree, leading him down the series of faintly remembered hallways toward the barracks. “Zenyatta and Bastion should be able to spruce it right up. You know, despite their inorganic origins, those two have such a way with any manner of plants.”

“Probably not this one,” McCree muttered to himself, drawing the hand painted ceramic pot closer to himself. “Thank ya kindly for the offer, but me and this shrub have stuck together through thick and thin, can’t part ways with it now.”

“Understandable, although I fail to see how you’ve managed to keep it so healthy on the run. No matter, you’re here now and that’s what counts. Some things have changed since either you or I have been here, but you’ll see that--”

The rest of Winston’s updates fell on deaf ears, McCree’s attention split between the ache in his bones after the perilous journey to get to the Watchpoint and the single vine that wound its way around his free hand.

When McCree entered his dorm, he fully expected a little of this, a little of that, nothing harsher than a minutes long cold shoulder followed by much overdue cuddling and warmth. Exactly none of those things greeted him, however.

A mist blanketed the room, wisps of muted gold floating in the air in unseen drafts. Hanzo was ready to go into bloom.

“Now I know I was cutting it close, and I missed you too, but don’t you think…” The words fell flat on his lips, vines he did not see overhead falling to caress his face, stroke his hair, glide down his arms. A single stem rose to press against his lips, gently, carefully, with love. It carried the scent clinging to his every breath, pushing it closer, more direct, more fully formed; the scent of desire wafting from his lover.

“...Overkill. But don’t you smell just ripe for the pickin’.” He dropped his overnight bag, mindful of the vines creeping toward his legs, and took a step further into the room. “You’re eager, that much is a given. How long you’ve been waitin’ for me?”

Each vine that graced his body immediately swarmed to one area, growing with prominence the more he inhaled, each ragged breath intaking the precious scent of need . A deft flick from one of the sturdier vines and his zipper fell undone. “ Very eager, you’ve made your point.” The vines near his feet cropped up through the opening in his pants, stroking his more exposed cock. “God, I missed you. Sorry for making you wait.”

“Hold me, Jesse.”

The vines retracted from his body, their glide a final kiss to his skin as they slid away from him. At their source sat Hanzo. Pink tinged his usually earthy complexion, the heat from his face bleeding into his gaze. He panted, and with it came a cloud of mist, the sweetest one since McCree stepped foot into the room. With one gnarled hand, he beckoned for McCree and waited.

McCree took a moment of pause to look at the man--although not quite--on his bed. Vines still slithered from his form, but he looked mostly human save for the hue of his skin and texture of his hands. The shades of greens and browns of his body shimmered under McCree’s eyes, its ebb and flow attempting to corral his gaze back to Hanzo’s own. He watched as Hanzo let out a huff of frustration, the smolder of his eyes overtaking his smile with the same intensity as he stretched out further. McCree knew how to take a hint.

They met halfway once McCree approached the bed, him unzipping his pants further to draw himself out while Hanzo sat up to watch. Hanzo blew two kisses in that moment, one to his cock and the other to his face, and McCree swore he had never felt so alive before.

“You know, all you have to do is ask, sweetness.” He gasped at the fell of Hanzo’s tongue on his cock, fire burning anew. “I love to see you in bloom, and love to help get ya there even more.”

Speech fell to the wayside immediately after, their lips crashing together. McCree felt the heady scent pierce his nose, tongue, taste-- he felt himself drowning under the focus of the man beneath him, surrounded by musk, honey, timber: everything so indubitably Hanzo.

He had Hanzo on his back, legs tangled somewhere behind him, warmth surrounding him entirely: vines cradling him closer, squeezing his skin each and every time he brushed against Hanzo in his most intimate areas; his tongue playfully pressed against the tongue of the other, deep inhales from both his mouth and his nose taking him ever higher; the firm grip around his cock as he thrust in and ground down, wary to pull out for fear of missing even a second of this high.

He felt the vines tighten around his body--long-sleeved shirts and turtlenecks are coming back this season--as he reached his own peak. Hanzo panted against his mouth, driving his arousal to grounds unforeseen, every thought, synapse, moment of existence centering around Hanzo.

When they came, another smell hit their senses. Opening their eyes, they saw just how intricate a web Hanzo’s vines formed against the walls of his room, his control slipping at the pleasure and lust that overtook him. They also saw the flowers they made that burst into existence, their garden thriving once more.

Nobody mentioned the markings covering McCree’s arms and neck when he first stepped onto the base, and still nobody would when he emerged from his room two days after coming home from a mission.

Those who tried to pry it out of him quickly found themselves caught up in another argument, McCree’s silver tongue leading them down a rabbit hole that ate up their attention for hours.

Many things may have changed, but Jesse McCree’s stubbornness remained as strong as ever.