Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

He’s been coming to this little cafe every day for the past week, just to catch a glimpse of who was, quite possibly, the cutest individual in existence . He worked as a barista in a quaint little coffee shop off of main street, a mom-and-pop store that, according to Hanzo, served the best chai lattes in the city. Good enough that he routinely sent others to get him a cup when he couldn’t find the time to. Usually it was his boyfriend, Jesse McCree (someone who Genji routinely referred to as his “cowboyfriend”, as the man was unhealthily obsessed with Western culture and wore awful cowboy paraphernalia on the daily ) but he was out of town on a trip with his dads and sister at the moment, and Hanzo needed his daily fix. So, without his boyfriend to wait on him hand and foot, Genji was begged (well, okay, bribed ) to do his bidding for a bit before McCree came back and saved the younger Shimada from errand boy duty.

Yet, Genji is pretty sure he won’t stop coming to this cafe, because the sight that greeted him the first time he walked in was enough to get him hooked for life. Sure, he was a little bit of a romantic , but he could honestly, without a doubt, say that this was love at first sight. The barista that took his order had the most striking blue eyes, brighter than a sunny sky and just as calming, and a head free of hair that shone like a damn star in the dim lighting of the cafe (and Genji wanted to kiss all over the expanse of it), and the prettiest smile that had his heart beating faster just at the sight of it. All of that, coupled with the regal curve of his nose, and the upward slant of his eyes, the delicate arch of his eyebrows, and the beautiful wooden rose plugs he had in his gauged ears, Genji was smitten the moment he’d laid eyes on him.

And when he’d opened that beautiful mouth with those adorable, perfect Cupid’s bow lips, and spoke in the most calming and sweet of tenor voices, “what can I get for you today, sir?” Genji knew he had it bad . Especially since he tripped over Hanzo’s order, tongue-tied and stammering like an idiot, as if he’d never talked to someone he found attractive before. As if he , the resident playboy at their college, Genji Shimada , had never talked to someone he found attractive before.

But, then again, no one struck him like this man did. He was all elegance and grace, in the soft slope of his jaw and his long neck, those slender shoulders, and his skin the color of the latte he’d handed him across the counter, after he’d finally stumbled over his order. And then, those graceful, long fingers had brushed against his when he’d taken the cup from him, and Genji was sure his skin had tingled for hours afterwards.

So, he had wholeheartedly thrown himself into the task of getting coffee for his brother. The shop wasn’t far from their university campus, and Hanzo really could’ve walked there on his own (which Genji had suggested, at first, although he hadn’t pushed the issue at all after the first day), but Genji was more than happy to venture out, now that his reward wasn’t just a fat stack of cash from Hanzo, but was also the privilege of seeing that gorgeous barista every time he walked through the doors of that pretty cafe. And he always greeted him with a smile, and a wave, and Genji melts every single time.

He’s been coming to this cafe for days now, and the worst part of it is the fact that Genji doesn’t even like coffee.

So, when the week is up and McCree and Hanzo are reunited (something that Genji really did not want to see, considering that they acted like they hadn’t seen each other in months, and he was pretty sure they were on the verge of getting arrested for public indecency), Genji finds himself back at the cafe. Although, without a certain older brother’s order, he quickly sees that it’ll be awkward if he just. Sits there admiring the barista without ordering anything. And, well, he doesn’t like coffee .

The front of the line comes faster than he anticipated, and he ends up face to face with the pretty barista, who has switched out his wooden rose plugs for ones with a different flower carved into the oak, and he is already punching in the order that Genji usually gets.

“Your usual today, Genji?” The barista says smoothly, flicking those gorgeous, vibrant blue eyes his way and smiling serenely. Genji’s heart seizes in his chest at the sight, picking up to double time when it finally decides to start again.

“Uh,” he starts, floundering slightly when he realizes that it would be weird to show up with another coffee for Hanzo, especially since McCree had already gotten him one that morning, and he really didn’t want to just buy a random drink, and he didn’t drink coffee, and wow that barista is really staring at him, the gentle arch of his eyebrows drawing together in confusion, and he finally blurts out, “I’d like to try something new!”

The barista stares for a moment, lips parting in a slightly shocked expression, before they widen into a big smile, and he claps his hands together ( Adorable , Genji can’t help but think, gaping at the man in front of him, absolutely adorable ). “That’s great! Let me make you my favorite drink then,” he says, and taps at the register quickly before asking for payment. Genji numbly hands it over, not really sure what was happening, but knowing that he wasn’t getting a coffee. Or, at least, not his usual coffee. Not that it was his coffee in the first place?

He makes his way off to the side to let the barista take the next customer’s order, awkwardly shifting from foot to foot while he waited. Genji wonders just how likely it’ll be that his drink will be coffee, considering that the barista didn’t say what his favorite drink even was . The cafe is more packed than normal today, he realizes, as he takes stock of the tables available. Which, after a cursory glance around, he sees that there are none. How the fuck was he supposed to sit and admire his gorgeous barista now? Genji has barely a moment to pout before that voice is calling him over, lithe fingers wrapped around a clear plastic cup that held what looked like a mint milkshake, with whipped cream and chocolate shavings on top.

“I thought this was a coffee shop,” Genji quips as he moves to take the drink from the pretty barista, who laughs at his joke, and it sounds like the tinkling of bells before angels descend, honestly.

Those eyes are filled with mirth when they open again, lips split into a grin so wide that Genji is surprised the look is not stuck on the man’s face, “this is a coffee shop. And that,” he reaches one delicate finger out to swipe the whipped cream off of the top, the bit that was peeking out from the lid, “is my favorite drink. Give it a try?” His eyes don’t leave Genji as he brings the finger tipped with the stolen cream up to his lips, and promptly suctions his lips around it, leaving it clean when he pops the digit out of his mouth.

Holy fuck .

All he can do is nod, snatching a straw from the basket off to the side and ripping it open as fast as he can. The barista is watching him, amusement in the curl of his lips and the way his eyes, twinkling, are half-lidded. Genji feels like he’s being played with and, god, he doesn’t mind it in the slightest. He pops the straw into the cold beverage and brings it to his lips, keeping his eyes on the barista’s as he gives him the same show he’d gotten earlier.

The minute the concoction hits his tongue, he’s in love .

It’s got an earthy undertone to it, but, more than anything, it tastes like ice cream. Sweet and thick, he lets it lay on his tongue for a moment before swallowing it, surprise evident in his face, if the gentle laugh the barista gives him is any indication. He curls his fingers under his jaw, one arm crossed over his chest, and the smirk that crosses his lips is arguably equal parts devious and adorable. “So,” he starts, dragging the vowel out for a few moments before he points at the drink still in Genji’s hands, “how do you like it?”

“It’s good!” Genji blurts out, silently cursing himself for the outburst. He should really learn how to talk to this man properly so he stops embarrassing himself. The barista doesn’t seem to mind though, as he covers his mouth with his fingers and giggles slightly at him- with him. His cheeks are likely the palest of pinks, his lighter skin betraying him when he least wants it to. Not that the barista really notices, as he’s about to turn to start on the next drink. But Genji doesn’t really want the conversation to end, so he scrambles for a topic, anything, and, with the sugary flavor on his tongue, manages to say-

“You like sweets too… Uh…”

Oh fucking Christ.

He never asked for the barista’s name .

Blessedly, the barista turns to look at him, those eyes twinkling once more, and Genji curses himself for being such a fucking idiot . How could he be so smitten and not ask for his name?! And, fuck, he wasn’t wearing a nametag so he couldn’t just try that and he probably thought he was insensitive as fuck and he’s ruined this already what was he supp-

“Zenyatta. Tekhartha Zenyatta. But I prefer Zenyatta,” he says, giving Genji the biggest smile he’s ever seen on the barista. He swears that Cupid’s bow nocks an arrow and sends it straight for his heart, because the damn thing stops at the sight of that saccharine smile. It takes a few seconds for his brain to catch up, having been fried by the barista’s electrifying grin. Zenyatta grants him mercy, as he continues on with answering Genji’s original question, “and yes, I do like sweets. Very much so. That there is a green tea smoothie,” he pauses to giggle that beautiful tinkling laugh, “though it’s less of a smoothie and more of a milkshake. I make it with an ice cream base to make it extra sweet!”

If Genji was a better man, he would’ve shut himself up or sewn his mouth shut, to prevent him from blurting out the first thing that comes to mind. But Genji is not a better man. As proved in the past twenty minutes, he is very much compulsive, and says things he regrets. For instance:

“It can’t be sweeter than you, though!”

The silence that follows is practically deafening. It seems like the whole damn cafe is completely quiet, though the only two people that are staring at each other in stunned silence are the two at the counter. Zenyatta is shocked, his mouth open and his eyes wide, and Genji lips are pressed in a tight, thin line, the pale pink on his cheeks darkening to a vibrant fuchsia. Truly, the only way to escape this situation is to die. That’s what he’s resolved to do when Zenyatta, that goddamn saint , begins laughing.

It starts with the softest of huffing breaths that quickly evolve into loud chuckles, all of which sound like bells, and he’s pretty sure that the blush on his cheeks has started to bleed down onto his neck. He probably looks like a damn strawberry , with his pink face and his spiked green hair, but Zenyatta is laughing, maybe at him or maybe with him, but the sound of it is enough to quell the anxiety that was threatening to overtake him. Even as tongue-tied as he was around Zenyatta, he somehow managed to make the barista laugh.

“Oh, Genji,” he says between huffing laughs, “you are so funny .” Those bright blue eyes are on him again, all full of warmth and mirth, and Genji feels it at the base of his spine, crackling up his back like liquid energy. The pure attraction to this man that he’d only met a week ago, and that he’d only heard the name of today, but, fuck, just like he’d figured out earlier in the week, he was smitten. Knowing that Zenyatta found him funny , at the least, made it a lot easier to slip into a playboy persona, as he moved to lean forward on the counter and waggle his thick, dark eyebrows in the barista’s direction.

“Oh, you think I’m funny,” Genji purrs, slipping into the easy routine of ‘playboy’ that he adopts at parties and clubs, though it doesn’t seem to have the same effect on Zenyatta as it does the random people he’d flirt with at clubs, “well, I can be much funnier.”

“I doubt it,” Zenyatta quips back, turning around to start working on another customer’s order, “it seems you are only funny when you do not try and,” he pauses to shoot the most devilish smile over his shoulders, one delicate eyebrow arching as he effortlessly pours a drink into a carry-out cup, “it seems you are trying very hard right now.”

Genji’s jaw drops in shock, as Zenyatta caps the drink and calls out the customer’s name and moves on to the next one. He’s smiling to himself the whole time, all while Genji tries to come up with a rebuttal, but, well, after the barista finishes the last order, he realizes he’s well past the window of being able to respond and keep his dignity. Instead, he just adopts a pout, trying not to look like he wasn’t completely curved by Zenyatta. The man in question smiles at him, sticking his tongue out for a brief moment before that smile is back in place. He extends one lithe finger out and reaches over the counter to tap Genji on the forehead, the spot he touched tingling slightly when he retracts his hand.

Zenyatta’s expression is soft, and Genji can’t stop staring at him, because he’s pretty much the most beautiful person he’s ever seen? His fingers lace together over his stomach, and he notices the barista’s outfit for the first time. A taupe cable-knit sweater with a large cowl covered his top, though most of it was hidden by the brown apron he wore that boasted a cyan lotus flower on the front of it, the logo for the cafe. He flicks his eyes up to settle on Zenyatta’s vibrant blues, wondering if he was making too much of a fool of himself for their first interaction that wasn’t him just picking up coffee and leaving. But, if Zenyatta wasn’t the slightest bit interested, he probably wouldn’t be teasing him right now, right? And he wouldn’t be smiling at him like that, nor would he be grabbing a piece of paper and scribbling something down on the back of it. And he certainly wouldn’t be taking Genji’s hand and pressing the folded up paper into his palm, and closing his fingers around it.

What.

Genji whips his head from his clenched hand (that is, honestly, tingling from Zenyatta’s touch) up to the man, who is pointedly not looking in Genji’s direction, and is, instead, investigating his nails. He really hopes it’s not a trick of the light, because he sees what looks suspiciously like a blush on the barista’s cheeks, ruddy red darkening his warm sepia skin. He knows his own face is likely awash in hues of pink, but it doesn’t matter, because Zenyatta is blushing and he’s 75% sure he just gave him his number and he didn’t even need to ask.

“I thought you said I was trying too hard?” Genji finally says, breaking the silence that was lasting far too long between the two of them. Zenyatta’s breathy chuckle in response is music to his ears.

“Well, you may be trying hard but,” his half-hooded eyes flick over to Genji’s, and that smile graces his face again, and he might as well have steam leaking out of his ears at this point from how hot his face was, “it’s cute. Very flattering, in fact. And, I may be crossing a line, but I would like to know more about you, if you would, uh,” he pauses and ducks his head, the blush on his cheeks darkening ever so slightly, “perhaps, message me later?” He gestures at Genji’s closed hand, which is still holding the piece of paper.

“Yes,” Genji finds himself saying without thinking again, though it results in the biggest smile forming on Zenyatta’s lips, as opposed to the shocked expression from earlier, “I will! I will message you later! Um, until then, ah,” he pauses, struggling to find something to say, and finally settles on reaching a hand out and giving Zenyatta’s a quick squeeze, “think of me?”

Zenyatta laughs, squeezing Genji’s hand right back, “I haven’t been able to stop.”

The warmth that settles over him at that statement lasts during the entire walk back to campus, and all through his evening class. Every time he glances at or takes a sip of the green tea smoothie, he imagines Zenyatta’s face. He can’t stop smiling, and his friends Hana and Lucio tell him so, with matching mischievous grins on their faces. Genji barely pays them any mind, too wrapped up in thinking of how he’s going to message Zenyatta once Professor Reyes stops lecturing them. He’d normally use his phone during class, but if he had to listen to another one of his professor’s long-winded rants about kids and technology then he’d slam his head into the wall. How McCree and Sombra put up with the man as their father was beyond him, and how Professor Morrison could be married to him is a whole other question.

Soon enough, Reyes dismisses them, and Genji bolts from the classroom, leaving his friends behind even as they call after him. There was probably some party going on tonight that Genji would normally be at, would probably already have been at, but he had a pretty barista to message and didn’t want to be doing so while he was absolutely plastered. That’d be for another time, when they were closer, that he could comfortably drunk text him. For now, they had to wade through the awkward first few stages of messaging each other.

The minute he bursts into his dorm room, he tosses his bag to the side, not caring where it lands, and throws himself onto his unmade bed. Lucio is his roommate and, knowing him, he probably won’t be back until way later, so he has the dorm to himself for the time being. Genji fishes his phone and the scrap of paper out of his pocket, unfolding the latter to reveal Zenyatta’s number, written in clean, neat script. He taps the number into his phone and saves it under the barista’s name and, with a moment of hesitation, a small heart afterwards. And then the sparkle emoji. And, y’know, a coffee cup emoji would be cute too? Before he can talk himself into adding more emojis, Genji opens up his texting application and sets up a chat thread.

He ends up staring at his keyboard for long moments, typing out message after message and deleting it every time. ‘Hey, it’s Genji!’ sounds too formal and excited, and he wanted to play it cool. If he didn’t say who it was, it could be from anyone, but then he ran the risk of coming off as too formal if he includes his name, and, fuck, okay, just-

Genji: Genji is with you B)

He sends it off and curses himself internally for sending something so stupid when he realizes how idiotic he sounds. ‘Genji is with you’, what kind of fuck-

His phone vibrates before he can chastise himself a moment further. Zenyatta’s name is on the screen, and he tries not to listen to his heart thudding in his eardrums, or the ice that’s settling in the pit of his stomach.

Zenyatta♥☆: Hello Genji! ヾ(＾-＾)ノ

Oh fucking Christ, he even types cute. Genji isn’t sure how long he can last at this point.

His fingers fly across the keyboards as he goes to respond, but his phone vibrates again with a second message from the barista, and Genji immediately deletes his entire message in favor of reading what he sent.  

Zenyatta♥☆: I’ve been waiting （˶′◡‵˶） how has your day been?

Oh, that little kaomoji is so adorable , Genji wants to cry. It’s blushing! Is Zenyatta blushing right now? Is he staring at his phone, those lithe thumbs poised to type, waiting for him to respond? Heart beating at double time, Genji quickly taps out a response, not wanting to keep his barista waiting for longer than he already has.

Genji: Better now that you’re here ;)

It’s easier to flirt like usual through text, but he still presses his face into his pillow and screams into it after shooting the message off. When Zenyatta doesn’t respond immediately, he vows to remedy his playboy ways, maybe join a monastery in the mountains, become a better man, more pious and less of a flirt and oh, there’s his phone, vibrating again.

Zenyatta♥☆: It is the same for me hehe ╰(*´︶`*)╯I am glad I can brighten your day, Genji!

Zenyatta♥☆: I hope it is not to presumptuous of me to ask, as we have just started talking, but would you like to meet up later this week? Perhaps for a movie? ( ・◇・)？

He keeps taking the first step before Genji can and, fuck, it’s pretty nice to be the one being asked out for once, instead of being the one to have to do the asking out. Genji had kind of assumed that he would have to be the one to make the first move, and, he had totally planned on asking Zenyatta for his number today, really, and he was going to be the one to propose a date, but the barista had beaten him to the punch both times now. He’ll be the one to make the next move, if there is one.

Genji: oh yes!! that sounds great! anything you had in mind??

After he sends off the next text, he pulls up his browser to go through the movies that are currently out, flicking through comedies and animated films and romance movies while wondering what Zenyatta would like. Would he want to watch a horror film and cuddle up next to Genji, tuck his pretty head under his chin and hold onto his hand tight? Or maybe a comedy, where Genji could listen to his tinkling laughter the entire night? Maybe a romance film that leaves the rest of the night with the idea of what could happen, if maybe they’d like to be a little cheesy and-

Zenyatta♥☆: I have nothing I’d like to see in particular °˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖° so why don’t we decide when we get to the theatre?

Genji figures that’s as good a plan as any. He quickly sends an affirmative and a little smiley as well, finding his texts lack the character that Zenyatta’s does with the lack of kaomojis. Zenyatta shoots him back a time and place, and a question mark, and another one of those adorable emoticons, and Genji agrees without a second thought. Even if he had class that day, he’d just skip. He’d rather be out with the cute barista anyways. The rest of the night is filled with the pair shooting messages back and forth, talking about everything and nothing. Genji finds it’s never been so easy to talk to someone before, and there’s never a dull moment in conversation. When Lucio enters the room, looking completely sloshed and exhausted, he realizes he and Zenyatta have been messaging for hours now, and that it is way past when he should be asleep for his morning class. Begrudgingly, he messages Zenyatta a goodnight.

Genji : zen hate to do this but ive really gotta head to bed :(

Zenyatta♥☆: That is fine, I must be retiring as well! Please message me in the morning, Genji! (✿´ ꒳ ` )

Genji: i will! goodnight zen ♥

Adding that heart took almost everything out of him, honestly.

Zenyatta♥☆: ( ˘ ³˘)♥ Goodnight Genji!

And that emoticon made everything that Genji had ever done or said, in his entire life, worth it .

The morning is damn near grueling, as he definitely did not get enough sleep, but talking to Zenyatta was worth a thousand sleepless nights. The first thing he did in the morning was send Zen a quick text, a good morning with a heart emoji. He wasn’t expecting a response soon, and wasn’t disappointed when the barista didn’t reply back immediately. It was way too early to be alive, let alone messaging anyone. Genji figures Zenyatta will message him back when he wakes up. In the meantime, he goes to the mess hall to eat breakfast, and then to class.

Halfway through his morning class, his phone vibrates in his pocket. Professor Wilhelm is less strict about phones than Professor Reyes, so Genji manages to sneak the device out and read what Zenyatta’s response is. Amongst other messages from other friends (and people trying to bootycall him from last night, all of which he’d ignored while messaging Zen), Zenyatta’s chat thread was highlighted. Genji taps it and pulls up the message, which is a simple good morning from the barista. It doesn’t matter how simple it is, however, because his heart skips a few beats at the sight of it. He asks him how he slept, and they fall into the comfortable routine of messaging each other.

This continues for the next few days leading up to the day of their date, with the pair shooting messages back and forth from morning until late in the evening. His friends tease him, especially when he skips out on more parties, and his brother sees a noticeable difference in his behavior. Hanzo doesn’t pry, though he does give Genji the most curious of smiles whenever the younger Shimada rips his phone out of his pocket to reply to Zen. McCree shoots him looks and waggles his brows, and Genji laughs to himself at the sight. If only they knew how smitten he truly was. Not that he’d tell them. He didn’t want to jinx what he and Zenyatta had, or, were starting to have, at the least.

He learns a lot about Zen over the course of the next few days. He’s only 20 years old (which Genji teases him about, since he’s 23, and Zenyatta just sends him an angry emoticon, which is still just as adorable as the others he’s used), and his family owns the coffee shop that he works at. He and his twin brother are the ones that work there, along with some part-timers that they hire on to ease the workload. He’s Nepalese, and his family are devout buddhists, hence the shaved head. He says he likes the way it looks though, and Genji agrees with him that it’s cute. That gets him a blushing kaomoji, and a handful of heart emojis that almost kill him with their cuteness. In turn, he tells Zenyatta about his own family, or, well, as much as he can tell him. He doesn’t divulge the yakuza thing, though he figures he’ll have to at some point. If they get to that point, he’ll see the dragon tattoo that winds around Genji’s right leg, from the curve of his hip down to his ankle, with an open maw that threatens to swallow his foot whole. But, as much as he wishes to divulge, he does. He tells stories about Japan, and Zenyatta tells him about Nepal, they talk about their family, and Genji confesses that he only went to the shop to get Hanzo’s order while his boyfriend was away. Zenyatta laughs, and asks if it was too much trouble. Genji shoots back that Zen made it all better.

After that particular line, he doesn’t get a response for a very long time and, when he finally does, it’s a multimedia message. He scrambles to open the file, breath caught in his throat as it loads on his screen.

It’s a picture of Zen. He’s covering the lower half of his face with those lithe fingers, and his brows are pulled together, though he doesn’t look the slightest bit mad. His cheeks are dark, so dark, ruddy red coloring the warm sepia of his face, and his vibrant blues are staring straight into the camera. Behind his fingers, Genji can catch the hint of a smile. He’s wearing a honey yellow turtleneck sweater and a necklace composed of round metal beads, and Genji hasn’t breathed since he received the message. And it comes with the caption, “you’re embarrassing me (｡’▽’｡)♡!!”.

He sucks in a deep breath and saves the photo without a moment’s hesitation,

And, well, if he makes it his homescreen background, then Zenyatta doesn’t need to know.

Genji spends way too long trying to think up a response, and, inevitably, ends up taking a photo of himself to send back, with two fingers to his temple in a pseudo-salute, and a cocky smirk on his face, punctuated by a wink. Before he can talk himself out of it, he sends it to Zenyatta, and waits for the next few minutes with bated breath, awaiting a response from the barista. It comes in the form of another text.

Zenyatta♥☆: Genji! You are so handsome （*´▽｀*）!! Goodness!! ૮(>//// <)ა Excuse me a moment please!

He stares at the message, brows drawn together in confusion, and wonders what he did wrong. Was that too forward of him? But Zen sent him a picture first? Genji barely has a moment to think on it before Zenyatta is messaging him again.

Zenyatta♥☆: My apologies, I had to go cool down for a moment. I was sure my heart would burst! (∩˃o˂∩)♡ Ah, I hope this isn’t too forward, Genji, but you are truly one of the most handsome men I have ever seen. I am excited for tomorrow!

Oh. Right, that was tomorrow. And Zenyatta thought he was handsome. And, wow, his face was really warm, and he’s pretty sure he made the most pathetic whining noise in the back of his throat. Zenyatta is absolutely adorable , and he’s driving Genji crazy with the way he texts, and with his cute little selfie, and he’s never been so infatuated with someone before. Is this how Hanzo feels with McCree? Is this why they’ve been dating ever since freshman year of college? Does his brother feel the same tingling sensation when McCree touches him, is there never a dull moment between the two of them, does his heart constrict around Jesse? Even though it’s only been a few days since he last saw Zenyatta, he feels it in the hollowness in his midsection, like a piece of him is missing. Is it odd to feel so strongly about someone that he’s only just met?

Is love at first sight real?

Genji shakes it off. He doesn’t need to be worrying about questions like that right now, all he needs to do is enjoy what he’s feeling right now, and think about things like this later. For the moment, he needs to respond to Zenyatta, and he does so with a smile, worries forgotten in favor of talking to the barista. Thoughts for another time, thoughts for another day.

The next day lasts forever. He and Zen had agreed to meet around five o’clock in the afternoon, and it seemed like the day dragged on. When four finally rolled around, he was practically vibrating with excitement. Although he would usually be heading to class with Professor Reyes, he was skipping to go spend time with Zen. Lucio and Hana would give him the notes later, hopefully, if they took them. So, with a quick goodbye to his friends, and well-wishes from them sending him off, he started to make his way through the city streets towards the theatre that they agreed to meet at.

The early evening air is brisk, cold enough that it warrants him wearing long sleeves and a scarf. He had thrown on a graphic tee, a green button-down, that he left open and a black hoodie over that, trying to look good without seeming like he was trying too hard. Genji’d done his hair like normal, and he was wearing a good amount of earrings, with silver cuffs along the shell of his ear on one side, and a triple lobe piercing on the other. He’d even changed out his tongue piercing for a normal silver ball, as opposed to the spiky lime green silicone one he usually kept in. Classy, definitely. He kept his hands in the pockets of his torn denim jeans, and his nose buried in the bright orange scarf he’d wound around his neck, combating the cold as best as he can during his walk.

His university was in a rather central location, making it easy to walk to the hotspots in town, and, on a Thursday night when everyone was in class, the streets were only full of locals during their evening commute. It made it easy to weave through the city streets, as he made his way to their destination. Genji figured he was going to be early, and that assumption proves true when he finds himself in front of the movie theatre with another twenty-five minutes to go while waiting for Zenyatta. He takes the time to look at the movies playing at the moment, lips pursed while he tries to figure out what Zen would like the most. He was partial to a good romantic-comedy, especially since it would set the mood for the rest of the night, make it easier and more natural to lace their hands together, to kiss at the end of the date. Plus he’d have the added pleasure of getting to listen to Zenyatta laugh.

“Pft… Hahahaha!”

Yeah, laugh just like that.

Oh.

Genji whirls around and ends up face to face with Zenyatta, who was only a scarce inch taller than him. The man is wearing a pair of black denim jeans and red flats, and a canary yellow top with a cowl neckline in the front, with a cutout on either shoulder, and sleeves that are bunched up around his wrists. He switched his wooden plugs out for ceramic ones that curve around and hang below his ear, with a lotus flower entrapped in the acrylic. The necklace he was wearing in the picture he sent Genji is still on, sitting delicately around his slender neck. Zen’s lips are parted in the widest smile, his lithe fingers steepled in front of his face, while those vibrant blues shine in his direction with blatant warmth. Genji is absolutely speechless.

“And here I thought I would be the early one,” Zenyatta says, and Genji notices the dusting of red across his angular cheeks, highlighted by the lights of the theatre behind them. Those cyan eyes are practically glittering, enrapturing Genji even more with every passing second. His smile is infectious, enough so that Genji finds he’s returning it without even consciously deciding to do so.

It’s 4:40 PM on a Thursday night, and Genji Shimada is absolutely, without a doubt, head-over-heels for Tekhartha Zenyatta.

“Am I trying too hard again?” Genji asks, breathless, having the very air stolen from his lungs at the sight of Zenyatta. The other man smiles coyly at him, one delicate brow arched, while he drops his hands down to rest in front of his stomach, fingers still laced together. Zen takes a step forward, closer, into Genji’s space. The warmth radiating off of him is enticing, and he feels the desire to wrap his arms around the barista, to share their body heat. He quashes it, knowing that he shouldn’t assume that Zen would be wanting something so physical as a greeting.

Zenyatta unlaces his fingers and reaches forward, gently taking either side of Genji’s open hoodie in hand, and tugs him forward until their chests barely brush. This close, he can see the flecks of white in Zen’s cyan eyes, and a smattering of freckles tossed haphazardly across his nose, like stars in the sky, and Genji wonders if it’s legal for someone to be so perfect. “Like I told you before,” Zen starts, that smile widening ever more, “it is endearing. And flattering. And, perhaps, you could say I am trying just as hard,” he pauses, eyes turning downwards, and head following suit, his cheeks darkening even more, “may I get a hug, Genji?”

Without a moment’s hesitation, he wraps his arms around Zenyatta’s waist, tugging the man forward. He was right, Zen was warm, and he feels even warmer when his arms twine around Genji’s shoulders, holding them flush together. A comfortable silence settles between them, and the younger Shimada wonders if this could be their date; just standing in front of a movie theatre hugging for the next four hours. He wouldn’t mind it. Zenyatta smells like sweet cinnamon and coffee, and smoky incense, and he’s so warm, that Genji feels at home just being near him.

“It is nice to see you again, Zenyatta,” Genji says, glad that his face is hidden from Zen’s sight so he can smile like an idiot without fear of the barista teasing him over it, “may I be a bit forward and say that I missed you.” He uses the words that Zen always does, and feels the man shake with contained laughter in his arms.

“And I will be a bit more forward and say I missed you more,” Zenyatta quips back, leaning back in his embrace to catch his eye, and Genji’s grin widens. He wants to kiss him, but he knows he shouldn’t, not yet, at least. So, regretfully, he parts from the other man’s embrace, stepping back, as his hand drags down the other’s arm to his hand. Their fingers lace together easily, as if they were meant to be together, and Zenyatta’s smile is the sun with how it brightens up Genji’s entire life. He tugs him along, in the direction of the ticket booth, feeling content and happy with his lithe fingers intertwined with his own.

Zenyatta ends up choosing the movie. He picks the only romantic-comedy that was playing, which would start at 5:30, giving them ample time to get their snacks and find seats. Genji stops the barista from pulling out his wallet, whipping out his student ID and platinum credit card and paying for the two of them. Zen looks bashful, but secretly pleased, and Genji thanks the stars for the Shimada clan’s money, as they grab their tickets and make their way inside the much warmer theatre.

There’s barely anyone here, what with it being Thursday, so they wait for only a few moments in the line for snacks. Genji gets them a large popcorn and two drinks, and Zen picks out a pack of Sour Patch kids, the Shimada clan credit card pays for it all, and then they stop at the fountain drinks. Zen shakes his head teasingly when Genji fills his cup to the brim with orange soda, and Genji sticks his tongue out at the barista when he fills his cup with iced sweet green tea. The warmth in the pit of his stomach spreads through his entire body when Zen laughs at his silly face, though his eyes linger on the tongue piercing set in the middle of Genji’s tongue, and that causes a spike of arousal to run up his spine. He should’ve figured Zen would be into piercings, what with his gauged ears. He silently thanks his past self for getting it done.

On the way to where the movie was showing, Zen presses as close to his side as he can get, and asks, “so, when did you get your tongue pierced?”

Genji hums for a moment, clicking the metal ball against the inside of his teeth, like he’s trying to remember when, in all actuality, it’s one of his favorite stories to tell. With a grin directed Zen’s way, he launches into it, “oh, well, back when I was your age, decades ago,” Zen smacks him for that, though his smile suggests he doesn’t mind the teasing, “my brother and I were drinking a bit and we made a bet. I bet him that he couldn’t shoot a bullseye while blindfolded- oh, my brother does archery, by the way- and he bet me that I couldn’t parkour up the tallest building on campus,” he barks out a laugh, and Zenyatta echoes it with a slight chuckle of his own, “and, well, we both were not able to win the bet.”

“What did you have to do, if you lost?”

“I am getting there,” he teases, as Zen pulls open the door for the theatre they’re in, and they round the corner to the sight of a completely empty theatre. Genji nods appreciatively, taking the steps up two at a time until they’re dead center in the upper rows, and sidles along the row to the middle, where he plops down and waits for Zen to sit as well. Zenyatta places his drink in the cupholder and delicately lowers himself into a cross-legged position on the chair, head turned to smile up at Genji. He beams down at the barista, and sits down next to him, pulling the armrest between them up so there’s nothing separating the two of them. Zen nods, a silent appreciation, and sidles up a little closer to Genji, who was already moving towards the barista. He leans his head on Genji’s shoulder, and he wraps his arm around Zenyatta’s shoulder, sighing contentedly at the easy romance that was blossoming between them.

Zen tilts his head up, just slightly, and mumbles, “please continue, Genji.”

“Ah, yes. So, I said that, if he lost, he would have to get his nipples pierced,” Zenyatta’s eyes widen at that, brows arching high on his wide forehead, “do not give me that look! When we used to be roommates, I would come back to the dorm to see him shirtless, with his damn boyfriend laying on his chest. I figured it would be a way to get them to quit being half naked in our shared dorm,” he pauses, shuddering as he remembers all the times he’d come back to the dorm to find them with even less clothes on, in more compromising positions, “and Hanzo, well, he said that, if I lost, that I would have to get my tongue pierced. Because I ‘talk too much’.”

Zenyatta laughs loudly at that, the sound reverberating through Genji with their proximity to each other, and the younger Shimada shoots him an amused look, one side of his mouth drawn up in a smirk. “Do you agree with him, then? Do I talk too much, Zenyatta?”

The barista hides his smile behind his hand, and shakes his head a bit, eyes twinkling in the dim light of the theatre, “no, but I may be a bit biased in my opinion, seeing as I like to hear you talk, Genji.”

Genji can feel his cheeks heating up, coloring him in petal pink, and he ducks his head, burying his lower face in the scarf wound around his neck. Zenyatta hums, amused, and one of his hands falls to rest on Genji’s thigh. Easy, simple touches, but he feels every brush of Zen’s body against his own igniting wildfires in his veins. He wonders if his presence, his casual touches, are causing the same thing with Zenyatta. With a cursory glance, he can see the ruddy red that has settled beneath his warm sepia-colored skin, and it thrills him to think that he must have the same effect on him.

“It does not matter though,” Genji starts again, returning to his story, “because, from my experience in those last few months of being Hanzo’s roommate, that, after the piercings healed, his boyfriend was even more eager to get my older brother shirtless,” Zenyatta’s laughter is music in his ears, as he turns his head to grin at the barista, “and Hanzo could not get me to shut up, even with my tongue swollen.”

Zenyatta shakes his head, grin stuck on his face, “well, Genji, may I be a bit forward?”

“When have I ever denied you?”

Zen presses closer, pressing his chest against Genji’s side, as he rests his chin on his shoulder, “the tongue piercing is ridiculously hot.”

Genji sputters at that, not expecting such a blatant admission, as he feels his skin heat up even more . Zenyatta’s breathy chuckle washes over the skin of his neck, sending pinpricks of pleasure up his spine, his hand tightening its hold on the barista’s shoulder. He opens his mouth to respond, to tease him, or to say that he’s particularly fond of the plugs that Zen has in today, when the lights dim around them, and the screen lights up with the first trailer of the night. Zen turns, slotting himself against Genji’s side, and directs his attention towards the front. Genji pulls him closer, keeping them flush together, and enjoys the happy sigh that escapes Zenyatta’s mouth, while they start to watch the movie.

It certainly is not Oscar-worthy, but the movie does get both him and Zenyatta laughing quite a few times, and the heartfelt confession at the end, plus the kiss, has the two of them shifting uneasily. Genji takes a peek at Zenyatta while the couple kissed, and sees him press the pads of his fingers against his own lips, tongue darting out to wet his lower one, and the desire to kiss him flares ever brighter. He pushes it down, reminding himself that this is their first date, and he’s not about to ruin it by randomly kissing him in the middle of a movie theatre.

They linger during the credits, making small talk. Zenyatta says he appreciates the woman and her pursuit of happiness, regardless of the situation she was put it, and Genji agrees that the story of an underdog is always a nice one to see. When he spots the staff coming in to clean the theatre, he takes Zenyatta’s hand (easily, he notes, as their fingers slide into place), and leads him out of the theatre. They toss their empty cups and the popcorn bucket, pressing close to each other when they leave the building and are assaulted by the evening air. It nips at Genji’s nose, and he buries himself into the scarf wound around his neck, hiding himself from the cold. Though, he doesn’t miss the full-body shiver that rocks Zenyatta at the sudden chill.

“Hold on,” he says, suddenly halting. He slips his hand out of the barista’s, watching as the man turns to him with confusion written on his face. Genji grins at him, wrenching his arms out of his hoodie, and moves to drape it over Zenyatta’s shoulders, the fabric still warm. Zen is staring at him with wide eyes, mouth parted a bit, and his skin is such a dark red around his cheekbones that Genji fears he’ll burst. He lets his hands linger on the sides of the jacket, arching one brow up at him, while Zen’s lips part in a wide smile, showing off rows of his pretty teeth.

“Better?”

“Much.”

Their hands find each other again, the warmth that radiates off of Zen’s palm better than any glove he could’ve possibly worn,

Genji has class in the morning so, although he wishes he could stay out late, he starts walking with Zenyatta in the direction of his apartment. They make small talk as they walk, Zenyatta telling stories of work and his brother. He’s very expressive with his hands, though he doesn’t seem to want to let go of Genji’s, so he ends up waving their locked pair around while he talks about a particular time he and Mondatta, his brother, were playing in the mountains of Nepal. Genji doesn’t tell him that it’s endearing, and that he’s adorable, and that he’s perfect.

The walk is horrendously short, in Genji’s opinion. Soon enough, they’re standing in front of Zenyatta’s apartment complex, and the barista has taken both of Genji’s hands in his, thumbs rubbing gentle circles across the back of his hands. They’re standing close together, close enough that Genji can smell the scent of coffee and cinnamon that clings to Zenyatta, mixing with his own cologne that his hoodie smells like. During the course of their walk, Zen had put the jacket completely on, and he practically swims in it. While he may be an inch taller, Genji is much more muscular than the petite barista.

“I had a wonderful time tonight, Genji,” Zenyatta says, the beginning of a goodbye, and Genji steps closer, stopping him from saying anything else as their chests press together. He can feel the man’s sharp inhale of breath, with the way his chest expands against his. Genji lets go of one of Zenyatta’s hands and reaches up to cup the side of his jaw, eyes darting down just in time to watch Zen’s tongue peek out to wet his lower lip. Those cyan orbs don’t leave him, wide and staring as they were.

“I’m going to be a bit forward,” Genji mutters into the stagnant air between them, before he’s leaning in and pressing his lips to Zenyatta’s, feather light.

They’re warm and plush under his mouth, trembling slightly, and just a bit wet. He presses against him for a long moment, but it feels far too short when he moves to pull away. Not that he gets very far, as Zenyatta chases him, his mouth pressing against Genji’s before he can get too far. He hums happily in the back of his throat, tilting his head so their lips slot together, melding perfectly.

They keep it chaste, gently sliding their lips against each other, and it only lasts for about a minute before Zenyatta is pulling away, eyes blinking open. This close, he can see the way his pupils are blown wide, narrowing the cyan of his irises to mere slivers, and he shivers, knowing that he can affect Zen this way. Genji is sure he is no better. He watches as Zen’s tongue drags along his lips, like he was trying to taste Genji there. The younger Shimada fights the urge to lean in again, knowing they will end up necking like a pair of teenagers if he’s not careful. Instead, he puts a little more distance between them, stepping back but keeping his hand in Zenyatta’s grasp.

“We will have to do this again,” Zenyatta says, breathy, a smile quirking at the corner of his mouth.

“The kissing or the date?” Genji quips back, grin forming on his face.

“Both.”

Genji nods, grin permanently stuck on his face, and squeezes Zenyatta’s hand. Although he doesn’t want to, he lets him go. He stuffs his hands into his pockets, rocking back on his heels while he watches Zenyatta wave at him and disappear past the locked gates. The younger Shimada waits for long moments, breathing in the biting air and wondering just what he did to be lucky enough to take Tekhartha Zenyatta out on a date, to kiss him goodnight.

When he finally manages to make his feet move, he stumbles on the first few steps, mind racing. And, soon, he’s racing, the energy buzzing through him from the date exploding out of him as he runs back to the university. He high-fives people on the street, in the halls at school, makes up a handshake with a random stranger, and, still, it’s not enough to bleed him of all his energy. Genji’s lips still tingle from the kiss, and he feels practically lightheaded, as he tries to figure out where the Hell his dorm is.

His phone buzzes in his pocket, distracting him from his mission to get back to his dorm, which he was pretty sure he was close to completing, as the scenery was getting familiar. Genji pauses and pulls his phone out of his pocket, melting a little when he sees Zenyatta’s name on the screen. He flicks his phone open, practically vibrating with happiness, and taps on the notification to pull up the message.

Zenyatta♥☆: Tonight was the best first date I have ever been on. Thank you for taking me out; I am eagerly waiting for the next one! Both a date, and a kiss. (^//3//^)

Genji’s face hurts from smiling.

Chapter Text

He’s been coming to this little cafe almost everyday for the past six months, just to pick up who was, quite possibly, the cutest individual in existence . His boyfriend, Tekhartha Zenyatta, worked as a barista at his family’s coffee shop, Iris Cafe. Ever since they started dating, he’s made it his mission to see him every day, and the thrill of watching him hang his apron up and meet him out front never dulls. Nor does the way he says his name-

“Genji!”

-and walks over to him-

“Zenyatta.”

-and winds his arms around Genji’s shoulders, with his around Zen’s waist-

“Missed you.”

-and their lips meet in the sweetest of ‘hello’ kisses.

The feeling never dulls, not even after six months. Zenyatta fits against him so perfectly, from his chest to his lips, to his embrace. Genji kisses him for a long moment, smiling into the press of their mouths together, and feels his boyfriend return the expression. Their lips part, but they do not, wrapped around each other, foreheads resting against one another. Zenyatta’s smile is absolutely brilliant, like every day. Genji rubs his thumbs in circles against his boyfriend’s waist, gentle touches through the layers he’s wearing. Even with spring approaching, Zen insists on wearing the hoodie that Genji had lent him on their first date, though he’ll sometimes give it back to switch out for another one that Genji has, because it “no longer smells like him”.

Genji had made sure to smother Zenyatta with kisses after that particular comment.

When they finally find it in themselves to part, their hands find each other and lace together easily, months of practice making themselves known. They start in the direction of Zenyatta’s apartment, following the familiar path while Zen starts to talk about his day, falling into easy conversation. Genji interrupts every now and then with a quip or a comment, and Zen grins at him. The people they pass on the street say hello, and the nice lady at the bakery brings out a bag of cookies for Genji when they pass by it. (Zen swears she has a crush on him; Genji assures him that Miss Ling-Zhou is only being nice and that she is happily dating Miss Zaryanova that works in the gym across the street).

“Mondatta is going to be out tonight,” Zenyatta tells him as they round a corner, almost to where the apartment complex is, “he said that he would not be home until much later, so we have the place to ourselves.”

Genji hums at that, already skipping ahead mentally to think about what they would be having for dinner. Zenyatta liked to indulge in pizza or Chinese on nights when his brother wasn’t home, as Mondatta would usually cook and, while the both of them were more than capable, Zen didn’t get to have junk food very often. Genji lets go of Zenyatta’s hand to allow the barista to unlock the gate to the complex, rocking back and forth on his heels.

“What would you like for dinner, Zen?”

Zenyatta finally gets the latch open and pushes the gate, his hand reaching back to find Genji’s automatically. He takes the proffered hand, fingers filling in the gaps between each other, and they start walking in the direction of the apartment. Zen leans his head on the younger Shimada’s shoulder, humming inquisitively as they walked. Genji lets him think, more than happy to accept the affection that Zen is giving him while he ponders. The silence drags on, Genji getting more and more curious, until his boyfriend parts from him at the door of his apartment, and throws him a coquettish look over his shoulder, something that gets Genji’s heart racing.

“Perhaps I could partake in you tonight, Genji.”

That’s.

Oh.

That’s new.

“Ha,” Genji starts, his face practically burning , Zenyatta turning away from him to unlock the door, “good joke, Zen. Haha.”

Zen doesn’t respond, just hums, amused, and opens the door. The inside still smells of incense, likely from when Mondatta was here, and they both kick off their shoes to leave in the doorway. Genji watches his barista closely the entire time, searching for some kind of sign that he was, in fact, kidding. In the six months they’ve been together, they haven’t gone past long kissing sessions, in which they thoroughly mapped out the other’s mouth, and Genji, surprisingly, has been more than okay with it. He doesn’t want to ruin what he has with Zenyatta, this sweet love they’ve built up over time, with sex. Frankly, he wasn’t even sure if Zen wanted to sleep together. In all honesty, he wouldn’t mind if they didn’t. As long as he was with Zenyatta, he didn’t care what they did. Not to say he hadn’t entertained the thought before…

He doesn’t have another moment to think on it, as Zenyatta is padding across the plush carpet towards his room. After placing the bag of cookies down on the table, Genji follows, feeling at home amongst the decor from Nepal and the scent of sandalwood and cinnamon that lingers in the air. He passes the bathroom and Mondatta’s room before reaching his boyfriend’s, which is already open, Zen standing in front of his closet and taking the hoodie he stole from Genji off.

The younger Shimada makes himself at home on the bed, the plush mattress sinking under his weight, as he settles on the burgundy duvet, legs crossed. Zenyatta tosses the hoodie at Genji, catching him in the face and momentarily blinding him. He laughs, grabbing at the garment and throwing it to the side, smile widening across his lips at his boyfriend’s antics.

The smile drops when he sees Zen pulling his shirt off, the canary yellow top falling to the floor and exposing the expanse of his slender back to Genji’s eyes.

He’s pretty sure his heart stops, or maybe everything stops, because this is the most skin he’s ever seen of Zenyatta’s, all on display for him. Zen shoots him a look over his freckled shoulder, smirking, full lips parted just slightly to show him a hint of teeth. Genji’s fists the fabric of the duvet in his hands, eyes raking over the valleys of his boyfriend’s back, catching the sight of umber freckles scattered like stars along his sepia skin, down the curve of his back, along his waist, the waistband of his pants slung low, and his mouth is so dry .

Zenyatta turns and stalks over to him, chest pushed slightly out, displaying his front for Genji’s eyes. He was much skinnier when Genji first met him, but he’s filled out slightly in the past few months, enough that he looks a bit fuller. His hands tighten their hold on the duvet, unable to wrench his eyes from Zenyatta’s form, though the man isn’t looking at him. He’s standing in front of him, and leaning past him to grab the black hoodie, bare chest brushing along Genji’s arm as he does so. Zen snatches the hoodie, flicking that amused gaze over to him, and pulls the garment on over his bare skin, before he zips it up and hides all of that skin from Genji’s gaze.

His hold on the covers immediately slackens, breath coming out in a whoosh, a massive sigh of relief. It seems like Zenyatta is testing him, toying with him, and he feels it in the heat of his face, the rapid-fire beating of his heart, the clenching of his gut. He doesn’t know if his boyfriend wants to go that far, wants to take that step, but he doesn’t want to make the first move and possibly scare his barista away. So he’ll wait. Just because he was shirtless in front of Genji, shooting him coy looks, did not mean that he wanted to sleep with him.

Suddenly, Zenyatta is clambering onto the bed, sliding into Genji’s lap and winding his arms around his shoulders. With what just happened fresh in his mind, he wraps his arms around Zenyatta’s waist, tugging the man flush against him. Perhaps he should think again; his boyfriend is being exceptionally affectionate today. No, no, Zen has never expressed interest in sex. He should not take his behavior as a sign he wants something more; communication is the key. He uncrosses his legs so Zenyatta can settle against him better; that is, until the man pushes the both of them forward. They fall together, Genji’s momentary laughter swallowed up by his boyfriend’s mouth finding his.

The mattress creaks a bit, bouncing under their combined weight, but they pay it no mind, since Zen is pressing his mouth so insistently against Genji’s, lips supple and pliant. The younger Shimada hums in the back of his throat, briefly wondering what had gotten into his boyfriend, as the younger man’s tongue swipes across his bottom lip. Genji smirks, not willing to give him access just yet, and tilts his head just slightly, enough to deepen the kiss but not to open his mouth. Zenyatta pulls back, huffing softly, and Genji’s smirk widens into a grin. His boyfriend is already flushed, the sepia of his skin darkened with shades of ruddy red, serving as stark contrast to those electric blue eyes that burn into his umber ones. He barely has a moment to appreciate his disheveled look before Zenyatta is leaning back in and claiming his mouth.

This time, Zen doesn’t have to ask for permission, because Genji is readily parting his lips and slipping his tongue forward, delving into his boyfriend’s waiting mouth. The heat, the slick slide of their tongues against each other, the slight clack of their teeth when they shift; it all lights a small fire in the pit of Genji’s stomach, something he fights to ignore, but that gets difficult to when Zenyatta sucks on his tongue. The whine that escapes him is almost pathetic, and Zen echoes it with an amused noise in the back of his throat, muffled in the press of their mouths. He shifts on top of Genji, moving to straddle his thighs, while his hands move to cup his face. Genji greedily accepts every swipe of his tongue, every soft noise Zenyatta makes, swallowing them all down-

Until Zen presses his hips down and he feels something hard press against his hip.

“Fuck,” Genji breathes, his hands fisting in the fabric of his hoodie, and Zen parts from him, pulling back just enough that Genji can see his face, can take in the thoroughly disheveled look he gives him, “Zenyatta, are you-”

“Yes,” is his response, breathy and low, and his hips grind down against Genji’s, brushing their clothed hardness together in a way the younger Shimada hasn’t felt in months . He scrambles to grab at his boyfriend’s hips, fingers digging into him and stilling his motions, though Zenyatta still ruts slightly, soft whining sounds spilling out of his parted lips. Genji reminds himself over and over again that his boyfriend has never expressed interest in this before, that this is odd for him, and it’s scaring him slightly, rather than giving into the carnal desire that is urging him to partake in his boyfriend’s body.

“Wait, Zenyatta, ah,” the barista stops suddenly, halting in all of his movements, and Genji watches his disheveled, needy expression shift into one of confusion, delicate brows drawn together, lips set in a hard line, and Genji trips over his tongue trying to correct himself, “don’t misunderstand me, please, but, ah… Are you sure about this? You have never acted this way before.” That has Zen sucking in a breath and suddenly sitting up.

Zenyatta’s hands leave his face, and he moves to climb off of Genji’s lap, sitting cross-legged next to him, completely silent. The younger Shimada sits up, propped up on his elbows, and watches his boyfriend, looking uncharacteristically worried with his lower lip caught between his teeth and his brows knitted together. He wants to reach for him, to assuage his worries, and kiss that look off his face, but this is an important conversation, and he knows it needs to happen.

“What’s--” Genji starts, but is quickly cut off by Zenyatta starting to explain himself. He won’t look at Genji.

“When I was at your dormitory last week, you left for a moment, leaving me with Lucio and Hana. They asked me about our relationship, and Lucio mentioned that you had never been in a long term relationship before,” Zenyatta says, tone even despite the fact that he was tapping his fingers against each other, a tell-tale sign that he was nervous, “I inquired about your previous relationships. He said that you had only had nightly trysts before you met me.”

Genji was going to kill his roommate, he vows, as he rushes to explain himself, “yes, I did, but this is not like that-”

“I never said it was, Genji, that is not what I am implying now. The reason why I am trying to initiate something is because,” he pauses, his eyes flicking up to Genji’s face, finally, and he can see the worry evident in those cyan orbs, “I thought you might miss sex. Perhaps I was wrong, or perhaps I am assuming that you find me sexually attractive, when that is not the-”

Zenyatta has never been so wrong before.

Genji is quick to silence his boyfriend, to derail his train of thought, by grabbing for his face and hauling him in for a quick kiss. The surprised sound that escapes Zen is muffled by Genji’s lips, which are trying to move against the barista’s still ones. After a moment, Zenyatta melts into him, responding to his insistent kiss with tentative movements. He does not let it get too heated, before he is pulling back, keeping Zenyatta’s eyes on his with their foreheads pressed together.

“Zenyatta, that is not at all what I meant. Do not misunderstand me,” he repeats, watching those oceanic eyes intently, “when I stopped you, it was not because I did not want you. I was worried that you felt like you were pressured to do this,” he narrows his eyes a bit, casting his gaze off to the side, “and I may be correct in th-”

“No! No, Lucio, Hana, they did not,” Zenyatta sucks in a shaky breath, and Genji’s eyes shift over to his, confusion evident in them, “they did not pressure me into doing anything. I want you, I want this, the knowledge that you had done this before was making it far easier to- to approach you with this. They did not plant the idea in my head; it has been there for many months, Genji, I just now have the courage to take the next step.”

Zenyatta’s face has steadily gotten darker, hotter with every word, and Genji stares, mouth open, at the wondrous sight. He brings a hand up to grab Zen’s chin, thumb rubbing along his lower lip, feeling the wash of his warm, shuddering breath across the digit with every pass. He’s watching him with pupils blow wide, swallowing the cyan of his irises and diminishing them to mere slivers. Genji cannot look away.

“You are not doing this merely for my benefit?”

“No, I want this.”

“You want me?”

“ Yes , Gods, Genji, please-”

“ Good ,” Genji surges forward, mere centimeters from Zenyatta’s mouth, as he practically growls into his fluttering lips, “I want you- have wanted you for so long now.”

He gently shushes him when Zenyatta goes to say something, pressing their lips together for a sweet, brief moment, before speaking into his mouth once more, “let me take care of you, Zenyatta. Let me show you what my ‘nightly trysts’ have taught me.” Zen sucks in a stuttered breath, and they both lean in to swallow the other down, Genji pushing Zen down to lay on his back while refusing to separate, desperate to connect, to let go.

And, oh, Zen lets go so beautifully .

The whimper that Genji hears, that he feels on his tongue as it bubbles out of his boyfriend’s throat, is nothing short of desperate. It seems like Zenyatta wasn’t joking when he said that he had been thinking about this for months, his lithe, delicate fingers winding around the vibrant green locks atop Genji’s head and tugging this way and that, all while he sucks on his tongue and cants his hips upward. Genji meets every needy thrust with his own, grinding against his clothed erection eagerly. Zen practically melts beneath him, opening up like the flower he was. Genji parts from his lips to pepper kisses along the soft curve of his jaw and down the expanse of his slender sepia-colored neck. When he mouths at a spot just under his jawline, Zenyatta lets out the prettiest keen, back arching and head thrown to the side to give Genji more access to his delectable skin.

“So vocal,” Genji mutters, biting down gently and worrying the flesh of his neck between his teeth. Zenyatta is heaving, panting, the heaviest breaths spilling past his kiss-bitten lips, and Genji wants to hear more, more of that tenor voice singing for him under his mouth, his teeth, his tongue. He tilts his head to gently bite down on Zen’s earlobe, flicking his tongue against it and tugging it, eliciting the prettiest little gasp from those lips of his. Genji pulls away from his abused earlobe with a pop, shifting back to lock eyes with Zen, who is looking properly disheveled.

His skin is so dark around his cheeks, crimson shining through the sepia, and his vibrant blue eyes are hooded, lust evident in the halo of his iris left after his pupils managed to swallow the rest of the color. Zenyatta’s lips are parted and kiss-bruised, slick with saliva. The way his tongue darts out to run across the length of his bottom lip is amazingly enticing, like he’s trying to taste the remnants of Genji, chasing the flavor. He dips his head down to give him more than just traces of him, their open mouths connecting in a heated, slick embrace. Zen makes the sweetest noises when he’s at the mercy of Genji’s mouth, his teeth, his tongue.

Zenyatta is grabbing and pulling at the top the Genji has on, fingers plucking at the collar of the shirt he has over his graphic tee. Those lithe digits trace along the curve of his shoulders, down the swell of his chest, and under the lapels of the open button-down. Genji nips Zen’s lower lip, dragging it into his mouth and back with him, as he shifts to prop himself up on one arm and shrugs off one sleeve, then does the same with the next, releasing Zenyatta’s abused lip with a pop. With the overshirt off, there’s only one layer left between Zen’s hands and Genji’s bare skin, which the barista seems intent on getting rid of, as those fingers skitter down his chest and pluck at the hem of his shirt.

Genji chuckles at his boyfriend and his needy behavior, delighting in how badly he seems to want this. At least he knew that this wasn’t just an act, a game. He pushes himself up onto his knees, hovering over Zenyatta, and locks eyes with him as he reaches down and yanks on the hem of his shirt. The offending garment is up and off of him in a matter of seconds, deposited somewhere off the bed, and leaving his chest on display for Zen’s roaming eyes. And hands, as those fingers make contact with the divots of his abdomen and trail along the valleys on his chest. Zenyatta looks stunned, slick lips parted and eyes wide, taking in the sight of Genji shirtless above him. The younger Shimada lets his boyfriend have his fun for a moment, allows him to drag his soft, lithe fingertips along his toned abdomen, before he takes initiative and lets his hands fall to the waistband of his pants.

Those eyes stare as he pops the button on his jeans. Those eyes flick up to his, catching the sight of him licking his lips slowly. Those eyes don’t leave his as he reaches for the zipper of his hoodie, and tugs it down. Those eyes, with pupils blown so wide as to leave only the barest sliver of oceanic irises, linger on him, even as the sound of the zipper coming undone ricochets in his eardrums, combating even the sound of his own heartbeat, which is loud and staccato, thudding against his ribcage in “onetwoonetwo”. It’s so loud, he’s surprised that Zenyatta can’t hear it, that the incessant rhythm isn’t reverberating off the walls of Zen’s room.

Zen sits up a bit, enough to tear the hoodie off and expose the expanse of his sepia skin to Genji’s hungry gaze, before he’s falling back to the bed, wantonly splayed out like a feast for Genji to enjoy. And he partakes in him fully, by leaning down and stealing his lips in a kiss, tasting the remnants of something with cinnamon in it that he must have imbibed before he left work. He partakes in him by dragging his lips down the column of his neck, sucking on the sensitive skin and leaving pretty plum marks in his wake. He partakes in him by laving his tongue along the planes of his chest, and down to the dusky brown skin of his nipples, where he pauses long enough to glance up and get confirmation (in the form of a very shaky nod, and the back of Zenyatta’s delicate hand pressed to his lips) before he suctions his mouth around the nub and teases it with his teeth.

The way that Zen’s fingers card into his shock of lime green hair, coupled with the way his back arches and shoves his chest more fully into Genji’s face, is something out of the younger Shimada’s dreams , and they’re coming true right before his very eyes.

He brings one hand up to tease the other sensitive bud on Zenyatta’s chest, fingers roughened with years of martial arts tugging at his nipple and eliciting a soft moan from Zen’s throat. The barista throws his head to the side, panting, gasping, breathing out tiny little groans against the back of his hand, and Genji revels in every bit of those filthy noises spilling from the lips of someone like Zenyatta. He may have jumped to conclusions, connecting Buddhism with his lack of being outwardly sexual, and assumed that Zen just wasn’t into that sort of thing. If the way he’s reacting is any indication, his original thoughts were far from the truth.

Genji parts from his abused, slick nipple with a wet pop, before he starts to make his way further down Zenyatta’s skinny chest. This entire time, Zen has only been making noise, no coherency to the breathy sounds that spill from his open mouth, and Genji is determined to draw some sort of other reaction out of him. He drags his lips down the heated skin of Zen’s stomach, pausing to dip his tongue into his bellybutton (and that gets him a squeal of delight from Zen, those fingers tugging at his hair and leaving a pleasantly painful burn tingling along his scalp), before traveling lower still, to where the dip of his pelvic bone is peeking out from the elastic waistband of his loose red trousers.

He doesn’t have to look up for permission, because Zen is gently combing his lithe fingers through Genji’s emerald locks, and he breathes out, “ please ,” in the most desperate voice, hips canting upwards to spur Genji on. It’s all he needs to give him the go ahead, to curl his fingers under the waistband and tug the garment down, down, down. Zen goes with it, pushes himself up a bit to make it easier for the flowy material to slide down his thin legs. Genji greedily takes in the sight of that warm sepia skin coming into view, veritable miles of it, as he pulls Zenyatta’s pants off of his body.

He finds very quickly that his boyfriend is not wearing any underwear.

Zenyatta is nothing short of gorgeous. Especially when he’s splayed out so prettily, Genji sits back on his haunches, eager to take in the sight of his boyfriend looking properly disheveled. Zen rests his hands on his stomach, staring up at the younger Shimada with ruddy red coloring his cheeks and the top of his chest. Those freckles that dust his cheeks and shoulders extend even further, along the top of his chest and down his ribs, dotting his thighs and hip bones. Speaking of those, there’s a set of piercings embedded in the skin right above the curve of his hip bone, on either side of his body. Now that he’s looking closer, he even sees a set of epidermal piercings on his clavicle, both sets twinkling slightly in the light of his room. Zen’s half hard cock, which is not very thick but is a little longer than average, lies in the curve of where his thigh meets his groin. He looks like a dream, like a deity that Genji needs to spend hours worshiping, and he plans on doing so. Thoroughly.

Genji crawls forward, up his boyfriend’s body, pausing to lap at one of his epidermal piercings on his hip bone and clavicle, and settles on top of him. Zen wraps his arms around his upper body, resting his hands against the planes of his well-muscled back. The adoration in his eyes is deep and endless, a clear and bright ocean for him to drown in, and he does so readily.

“Zenyatta,” he says, leaning on one arm that he’s braced on the side of the bed next to his boyfriend’s head, “you are. The most gorgeous man I have ever met. The most beautiful person I’ve ever seen,” Genji pauses thumb gently tracing over his freckled collarbone, “I cannot believe that you are with me- sometimes I feel as though I do not deserve you. And then you smile at me and I think that I will work hard to be someone that does deserve you.”

Zen squirms at his words, bringing one hand up to card through the hair at the back of his boyfriend’s head, pulling him down to press their foreheads together. Genji rubs the curve of his nose along the slope of his barista’s, delighting in the soft sigh that Zenyatta lets out at the affectionate gesture. “Genji,” Zen says, though he’s interrupted by the younger Shimada stealing a quick kiss, “you are more than deserving of me. You have done nothing but make my life infinitely better in the past few months. I cannot imagine someone being more deserving of my love. And,” he pauses, sucking in a stuttered breath, “I do love you, Genji Shimada. I love you more than anyone I’ve ever loved before.”

The confession steals the air from Genji’s lungs. It’s everything to him, to someone that has only ever dabbled in frivolous trysts and short relationships with people that were only a fling, something to fuck and to forget about. Which is what he’s always felt like to other people; a pretty face, a cock to sit on, a hole to fuck, but nothing more, nothing permanent. This. He wants this to be permanent. He feels it in the pit of his stomach when Zenyatta looks at him, feels it in his heart when they kiss, it’s always in the back of his mind during every waking moment.

“I love you too, Tekhartha Zenyatta,” Genji replies. He means it, he means every damn syllable. “You are my first love- I have never loved anyone before. Not like this,” he cups the side of Zen’s face, watching those cyan eyes stare back at him with wonder and affection in their depths, “I have never been in a relationship before- no one has ever seemed to love me as anything other than a pretty face. And then you came along. And I now know what the love people are searching for their whole lives is, because I found it in you. I love you.”

Zenyatta looks like he’s close to tears, eyes red at the corners and threatening to spill over, but his smile lets him know that he’s not upset or sad. Genji stops him from crying by surging forward and pressing their lips together, swallowing down the sob that was potentially trying to escape his boyfriend’s throat. They keep it chaste, parting only moments after they started their kiss. Zenyatta blinks the tears welling up in his eyes away rapidly, smiling and shaking his head at his own absurdity. Genji swipes away a stray tear that manages to spill over, chasing it away with his thumb.

“Why are you crying, Zenyatta?”

“Because I am so happy. So, so, so happy.”

Zen is the one to start their kiss this time, capturing Genji’s lips in an open-mouthed embrace. Through the confession, they’d forgotten what they were trying to do in the first place. But, when Zenyatta’s tongue presses forward insistently, the beginning flames of arousal resume licking at their insides. Genji runs his tongue along the Zen’s, swallowing down the moans that he’s resumed making. Those lithe fingers dig into the meat of his shoulder so wonderfully. Genji presses down with his hips, lining up his and Zen’s crotches and grinding forward.

“G-Genji!” Zenyatta throws his head back, breath caught on a moan, exposing his neck to Genji’s wandering lips. He pants heavily, pushing his hips upward, desperately chasing more friction. Genji reaches down just as Zen does, two pairs of hands pushing at his jeans and struggling to get them off. After the first few failed tries, he finally just stands up and shoves the jeans down, giggling giddily while untangling his feet from his pants. Zenyatta props himself up on his elbows, watching him with an amused smile, until Genji finally manages to free himself from the confines of the wretched denim.

With Zen’s eyes on Genji’s, he drags his lithe fingers down his body and runs them along the curve of his thin cock, down its length, and over the swell of his balls, to press gently at his hole. There’s a coy smirk on his face, that shows he knows what he’s doing to his boyfriend.

Genji practically jumps onto the bed, eager to be the one with his hand on Zen’s cock. Zenyatta laughs out loud at his eagerness, mirth in his smile, in his eyes. It pairs nicely with the adoration guiding his touch, his hands coming up to press against Genji’s chest and to lightly scratch at his skin. Genji keeps himself pushed up with one hand, the other falling to his groin to grip at both his and Zen’s cocks.

Zen is a dusky brown, maybe an inch longer than Genji but thinner, and Genji is of an average girth and length, but he’s much lighter and pinker in comparison. The contrast is pretty to look at, but it doesn’t matter, not when Genji wraps his hand around their lengths and presses the heated, velvety skin together. There’s no lube to ease the friction, but Genji makes due, gently stroking them together. He tugs on them a few times, panting softly at the heat and hardness pressed against his, when he realizes that Zenyatta isn’t making any noises.

“Zen? Are yo-”

When he tilts his head up to look at his lover’s face, he finds a sight that he’s never seen before.

Zenyatta has one hand clamped over his mouth, which explains the lack of noise, and his eyes are fluttering, while the other hand is gripping the covers by his head, twisting the fabric in a death grip. He looks overwhelmed, completely. He looks… delectable. Genji wants to see that expression more, to hear him moan, to break his boyfriend down completely because of his hands, teeth, tongue. And that hand clamped over his mouth simply will not do.

“Zen,” Genji whispers, his voice thick with arousal, and his boyfriend’s eyes manage to stop fluttering enough for them to lock on him, “have you… ever done this before?”

Zenyatta takes his hand off his mouth, panting, and nods frantically, “yes, ah, but… Only once before. It was not a fantastic experience. He was- mm, much more focused on himself than me.”

Genji feels a flash of anger bite at him, at the thought of some stranger using Zenyatta for their pleasure without regards to whether or not he was feeling good. He wants to erase that memory, to overwrite it with his experiences with Genji. He’s determined to show his lover just how good he could feel.

“I will try to do better than he did,” he promises, determination coloring his tone.

Zen laughs softly. “You already are, Genji.” The smile he gives him could power ten thousand cities, no, the world . He melts under its warmth. His boyfriend is just the most beautiful, the sweetest, most pure ray of sunshi-

“Ah, but, Genji? I believe we require some lubricant- it would likely make it easier when you fuck me.”

Genji practically chokes at that.

“W-What? What did you say, Zenyatta?”

Zen looks smug, reaching down between them to palm the heads of their cocks, smearing the first drops of pre between them. He brings his hand up to his face, knowing that Genji is watching every movement, and gently sucks on his index and middle fingers. He pops off of them, eyes half-hooded and dark with lust. Genji is suddenly harder than he’s ever been before.

“I don’t believe this will be sufficient to prepare me. Unless you don’t want to go that far? A shame. I was hoping to feel you come ins-”

“ Where’s the lube ?”

It comes out as a squeak, surprising the both of them. Genji feels pinpricks of heat cover his face, as he’s colored in shades of pink. Zenyatta giggles, shaking his head just a little bit, and points at his nightstand. Genji launches himself at the piece of furniture, yanking the top drawer open and finding the half-full bottle there- next to a set of red jelly anal beads and a sunshine yellow vibrator. The wheezing sound that escapes Genji’s lips couldn’t be stopped. He hears Zen’s muffled laughter behind him and wonders when and where he got the idea that his boyfriend wasn’t into sex, because it seems like he was so, so, so wrong.

“You will have to show me how you use those, Zen,” Genji jokes, turning around with the prize in his hands. Zen has one hand on his stomach, languidly stroking the skin of his midsection, and the other wrapped around his thin cock. He strokes it slow, languid, waiting.

Genji groans at the sight and climbs onto the bed, wondering where his boyfriend was hiding all of this sex appeal. Zenyatta’s smirk says he knows exactly what he’s doing to him. He releases his grip on his cock just to wrap his arms around Genji’s shoulders. His legs part to accommodate the younger Shimada’s form, while he pops the bottle of lube open. Genji busies himself with slathering a few of his fingers up with the viscous liquid, while Zen starts to run his foot up the back of his boyfriend’s calf.

“I may show you at some point, if you ever get a move on,” Zenyatta teases, as Genji tosses the bottle of lube off to the side. He sticks his tongue out at his barista for being so cheeky. Zen returns the expression before surging upwards and pressing their tongues together, which Genji just laughs at. It feels odd, but he knows how to make it feel better.

Genji reaches down to circle Zen’s entrance with his lube-slick fingers, while simultaneously bending down and working his mouth open with a skilled tongue. He swallows down the delighted gasp his barista lets out when he breaches his hole with his index finger, wiggling it in to the first knuckle. His boyfriend is not as tight as he expected him to be, likely because of the toys he has in his drawer. How many times has he used those, thinking about Genji, imagining this exact scenario? The younger Shimada shudders at the scene playing behind his eyelids, working his finger in a bit faster when he feels no resistance.

It’s not long before he can worm in a second digit. Zen keens prettily, parting from Genji’s lips, which just gives him the chance to drop his head down and kiss at his lover’s sensitive neck. The expanse of sepia is already interrupted by mottled red and purples, so he avoids sucking marks into the skin. He figures that Zen already will have to wear a scarf to work for the next few days; he might as well avoid making it worse.

When Zen comes back to himself, and Genji is pressing a third finger in, he finds his ear being assaulted by his boyfriend’s teeth and tongue. The younger Shimada sucks in a breath, feeling pleasure shoot through him like a spike, electricity down his spine. His fingers stutter in their rhythm. Zen seems to sense the reaction, because he’s chuckling breathily and laving his tongue along the shell of his ear. Genji shakes, his fingers twisting and spreading in hopes that his boyfriend won’t notice how much it affects him.

If Zenyatta is anything, it’s attentive.

“Genji,” he breathes, and fuck that’s a tone he’s never heard before, “ah, this feels so good. So much better than my own hand. So much better than those toys in my drawer,” Genji bites his lip in hopes it’ll stifle the desperate whine that bubbles up in his throat, but he knows that it’s to no avail, “do you have any idea how badly I’ve wanted this? Wanted you to ravish me like you’re doing now, turn me out, fuck me Genji ,” he crooks his fingers, searching, pressing, and knows that he’s found it when his boyfriend suddenly stops his sinful speech and throws his head back on a choked noise.

He abuses the spot until Zenyatta is pushing back on his fingers, moaning wantonly. Genji watches his face, with delicate eyebrows drawn together and eyes squeezed shut, mouth open to let out ragged pants mixed with his name. He thinks he could come just from this, just from watching his boyfriend come undone on his fingers. But when he starts to beg, to plead, his name interspersed with, “please, please, more,” Genji knows he should take mercy on his barista.

Genji slides his fingers out of that tight heat, even though Zen clenches to try and keep them inside. He can’t help but smile at the absolutely desperate whine that his boyfriend lets out at the sudden lack of pressure and pleasure, but he manages to shush him. With lips pressed against his. Zen seems content, for the moment, with kissing Genji, which is fine by him. He takes the distraction as his chance to pop open the bottle of lube again and to slick himself up with a firm hand on his cock.

Zenyatta must hear the slick sound, because he parts from Genji’s mouth, eyes open but blurry but focused on him. Every part of him, from his oceanic eyes to the very tips of his toes, which are dragging along his calves, seems hellbent on ruining Genji. Not that he minds that much; if he had to go, he’d like it to be at the lithe hands of his boyfriend. Zenyatta, for his part, doesn’t look like he’s doing much better with handling Genji’s efforts at working him into a frenzy. He’s reaching down between them, one arm still hooked around Genji’s shoulders, and his fingers grace along the slick head of his boyfriend’s cock.

“A-Ah, Zenyatta…”

“You have been working me up for far too long, Genji. I need this,” he pauses, fingers wrapping around him and squeezing gently, “inside of me. Please. I want nothing more than to succumb to the bliss I know you can provide.”

Genji nods, not trusting his voice to stay steady, as he guides his cock forward. Zenyatta helps, keeping his hand wrapped around his length until the head is pressed against his slick, stretched hole. They both suck in a deep breath in preparation. And then, Genji is pushing forward, sliding in until the head is buried inside of him. Zenyatta is still holding his breath, though his face doesn’t look pained. In fact, he looks like he’s rather enjoying it, though his brows are knitted together, as if he was trying to process the fact that they were actually doing this. Genji can understand; he’s as surprised as Zen is.

Zenyatta releases his breath when Genji starts to push even further, his length being swallowed down inch by inch, until their hips are pressed flush together. He presses their foreheads together, a grounding force for him to focus on. It wasn’t every day that you got to fuck your boyfriend for the first time. Zenyatta is wonderfully tight, a perfect fit for him. He’s like a glove around Genji’s length, his inner walls a pulsating heat that Genji could comfortably die in. Especially when Zen experimentally clenches around him, sucking him even further in, if that was possible.

“Zenyatta, you… You feel perfect, fuck, so tight , ah,” Genji breathes against his boyfriend’s mouth. He slides back a bit, testing the waters, and thrusts gently forward. Zenyatta’s soft, “ah!” is definitely something he wants to hear again, louder, and with increasing intensity.

He sets a rhythm for the two of them, slow and sweet thrusts that bring the softest, most saccharine sounds out of Zen’s lips. He swallows some down, lets others hang in the air between them. Zen seems content with the pace, sucking him back in while pushing back against every thrust. Genji feels a bit out of practice; six months is quite a long time for him. He’s trying to figure out how to get Zenyatta to more fully let go when his boyfriend taps him on the shoulder.

Genji leans back a bit, halting his thrusts, and stares down at an amused Zenyatta with confusion in his gaze. “Yes? What’s wrong?” Dread settles like icicles in his gut at the thought that he’s messing this up, that this isn’t good for Zenyatta too.

“Genji, tell me. Have you ever done this before?”

What a silly question. Of course he has, Zenyatta knows that. “Um. Yes, I have. Of course.” Genji can’t keep the question out of his tone.

“Oh, so you have,” Zenyatta muses, shifting so he can wrap his legs around Genji’s hips, pulling them even closer together. He’s as deep as he can go, and yet, he somehow feels like he went deeper . The sensation runs static up his spine.

“Then act like it,” Zen whispers, rocking his hips back against Genji’s and clenching down on him, “fuck me like you mean it, Genji. I am not as fragile as you seem to think I am.”

Who would have known that Tekhartha Zenyatta had such a foul, perverted mouth?

Genji growls in the back of his throat, snapping his hips back almost far enough to slip out of Zen, but then he’s shoving back in, much rougher and harder than before. For a moment, he wonders if that was too much, and then he catches the sight of Zen’s mouth falling open and the sound of a particular pleased groan spilling out of his lips. He knows that this was exactly what his boyfriend was looking for.

He finds his rhythm easily, with rough thrusts forward and harsh pulls back. He fucks into Zenyatta, listening to the litany of his name barely audible over the intense slap of skin on skin. Genji snakes a hand between them to grab his lover’s cock. He takes the length in hand, stroking it in time with his thrusts, and greedily soaks up the needy moans that start to fall from Zen’s lips.

It’s all too much; the sounds, the tight heat, the way that Zenyatta is looking at him with adoration and bliss in those cyan eyes. Genji knows the end is fast approaching, what with the coil in his gut tightening. He shifts his thrusts to better drill into his boyfriend, finding the change in angle to be perfect when Zen throws his head back on the loudest groan he’s ever heard from him.

“Close, Zen, fuck, Zenyatta, I’m so close,” Genji manages to warn his boyfriend, balls growing tight with his impending release.

Zenyatta nods frantically, legs and arms tightening their hold on Genji, doing nothing to deter his near primal rutting, “yes, yes, Gods, I’m almost there, Genji, please, inside .”

Genji makes a choked noise in the back of his throat that sounds like his boyfriend’s name. His release catches him just as he feels Zen’s insides tighten almost unbearably. Zenyatta practically howls his name, his cock twitching in Genji’s hand, as he spills himself between the two of them. Genji feels like he’d be able to appreciate it more if he wasn’t preoccupied with spending himself inside of Zenyatta. He still manages to rock into him throughout their shared orgasm, while he paints his lover’s insides with his come.

They stay like that for a while, willing their heartbeats to go back to normal. Genji is the one to press their lips together. They languidly kiss, Zenyatta slowly unwrapping himself from around the younger Shimada’s body, while Genji softens inside of him. He slips out, eliciting a soft whimper from his barista, which he silences with a swipe of his tongue.

He flops down beside Zen, finally, feeling boneless and sated. Genji watches his lover reach over to the nightstand and pull a few tissues out of the box he has there. His long lashes are so pretty in the dim light of his room, those cyan eyes looking tired but happy, and he wonders just where he got so lucky. Especially when Zen wipes off their chests and tosses the tissues in the direction of his wastebasket.

Genji plasters himself against Zenyatta’s side, nuzzling into the curve of his neck and humming happily. Zen chuckles, amused, and rolls over so that they’re facing each other. Their legs tangle together, arms wrap around one another, and they find peace in the tranquility of their combined breathing. Genji loses himself in the cyan of his lover’s eyes, in his freckles like stars, in the curve of his kiss-bitten lips.

“I love you,” Genji sighs, unable to stop the unending well of affection inside of him from spilling over. Zenyatta smiles serenely, leaning in to run the curves of their noses against each other.

“I love you too, Genji,” Zen returns, snuggling in as close as he could get, while Genji reached down and pulled the covers on top of them.

Tekhartha Zenyatta was a veritable flower, sweet and beautiful, something that Genji wanted to protect and keep forever. He was a lotus; pure, in some ways, faithful, and absolutely gorgeous. Genji figures he should thank his brother for inadvertently allowing him to meet his love, the lotus of Iris Cafe.