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Damn hair. Getting too long. Gotta get it cut soon.
McCree purses his lips at his barely-there reflection in the window of their transport, on the way home from their latest mission. Everyone is at various stages of exhaustion; Lucio is sound asleep on the couch, head resting on Genji’s shoulder, and the cyborg himself seems to be dozing. He looks cozy, especially since Hana is on the other side of him, curled up into a ball. Hanzo’s sitting on the floor with his prosthetics tucked underneath him, sorting through the remaining arrows he had in his inventory. Reinhardt is bothering Lena up at the front of the transport, likely to keep her awake, and that accounts for the team on this mission.
McCree twists to look at himself more fully, turning his head this way and that and watching his warm-brown locks bounce with each movement. He reaches his prosthetic hand up to tug on an errant strand, one that was probably a part of his fringe at some point but was now completely indistinguishable from the rest of the mess of hair on his head. It was getting long enough now that it covered the entirety of his neck, grown out so that it had a slight wave to it. He runs his hand through the thick strands, mouth twisted into a scowl. Haircut, immediately when they got back to base. Did Ang still cut hair? Would he have to venture into town to see a proper barber? Maybe Lucio could do his hair? Or-
“What are you doing, McCree?”
The sudden sound in the otherwise silent transport has McCree jerking in his seat, whipping around to see Hanzo staring down at him, arms crossed over his chest. He’s glaring, which is to say that he looks exactly the same as usual, but there’s a hint of a smirk on his lips. McCree relaxes back into the slightly uncomfortable seats of the transport and pats the spot next to him, happy to have some company.
“Jus’ admirin’ myself as best I can,” he teases as Hanzo steps around him to perch on the seat next to him, twisted to face him completely with one leg tucked underneath him, “y’know, ‘m really somethin’ to look at, Han.” McCree punctuates the sentence with a wink and an eyebrow waggle, which draws a breathy chuckle from the archer beside him.
“You certainly are,” Hanzo responds, reaching a hand forward to rest it on McCree’s thigh, warm and welcome, “I believe both that and our victory on this mission deserves a just celebration, Jesse.” The way he says his name as he leans forward, closer into his space, and that glare melts off his face has McCree’s heart skipping a bit.
“Y’sure, sugarplum?” Jesse asks, even as he shifts to get closer to Hanzo in kind. Hanzo’s brother is right there on the couch opposite them, and Lena and Reinhardt are still up at the front of the transport. They could get caught at any time. It doesn’t seem to deter Hanzo, as his hand slides up Jesse’s thigh and he leans close enough to press their lips together in the sweetest and most chaste of kisses.
The two of them had been doing… whatever this is for a while now. They’d grown to be fast friends when Hanzo joined Overwatch, and something more in the past few months. So far, they’d only engaged in some heavy petting and kissing. Neither of them had bothered to slap much of a label on it, content to continue carrying on like they usually did. They hadn’t told anyone else about extent of their relationship, because they really didn’t know what to call it. Friends, definitely, but also more than that, if the way that Hanzo was pressing himself even closer to him, raking his fingers through the mess of hair on McCree’s head while they kissed, was any indication.
“Mm,” McCree hums happily as Hanzo’s blunt nails scratch lightly at his scalp, “so sweet on me, Han. ‘s why I call you sugar.” He feels more than hears the archer chuckle before he parts from him, fingers still in his hair. The fond look Hanzo points his way is enough to get his heart beating at double time. He’s just in the middle of leaning forward to steal a few more kisses before they make it back to base when the digits threading through his hair snag on a tangle.
“ Ow , fuck,” McCree grunts, and Hanzo’s eyes widen as he pulls his hand free from his messy locks, “son of a-”
“Oh, I am sorry, Jesse- I did not mean to…”
“No, no, not your fault, honey,” he says, waving it off with his hand as he reaches up to try and work his own fingers through his tangled hair to no avail. He grumbles huffily, the need for a haircut even more present now. Hanzo doesn’t try to kiss him again, which McCree is equal parts grateful for and disappointed, but he does lean his head forward and rests it on McCree’s shoulder. The cowboy sighs out through his nostrils in content. He wraps his flesh arm around Hanzo’s shoulders and takes off his glove so he can feel the slightly prickly hair on the side of Hanzo’s head, hair shaved into an undercut. Hanzo melts against him happily at the treatment that McCree is more than willing to shower him with. Not a few minutes pass before he hears the unmistakable sound of Hanzo’s slow and even breathing, signaling the archer had settled down into a light doze.
He blows a strand of hair out of his face and settles against Hanzo comfortably. A haircut was definitely the first thing on his list when he got back to base. He glances down at Hanzo’s sleeping form, curled comfortably against his side with one hand on his thigh, at those slightly parted lips, and resolves that the haircut could definitely be done after a lil’ more sugar from his sugar.
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Originally, Ang was gonna cut his hair. She used to, back when he was in Blackwatch, but she never was the best at cutting it. Could never cut it like Gabe could. So, he asked Lucio. The only other time McCree had seen his eyes light up like that was when Hanzo had asked him to give him a bridge piercing when he first joined Overwatch. Before he could launch into suggestions as to what he could do with his hair, McCree cut him off and showed him a picture of himself from back in his Blackwatch days. Hair shorn shorter in the back with longer fringe, parted in the center of his head. Lucio had taken the tablet and stared at it for a long time, lips pursed as he took in the details of the cut-
“Dude, you’re telling me you’ve always dressed like a cowboy?”
McCree rolls his eyes at that, unable to keep the smile off his face, “look, can you cut my hair or not?”
“Only if you tell me where you get your assless chaps, Eastwood.”
The haircut itself doesn’t take too long. Lucio is damn near magic with his fingers, something that McCree finds out happily as he washes his hair before the cut. He almost falls asleep with that scalp massage, and barely manages to stay awake through the entire hair cutting process. Even the sound of the razor was relaxing as he cleaned up the sides, sending a delightful tingle up the back of Jesse’s neck.. They must’ve cut three inches off by the end of it, and Lucio even went through the trouble of washing and grooming his beard, which McCree insisted he could do on his own. Lucio had just given him a pointed look, as if to say ‘then why haven’t you?’ and McCree conceded without much of a fight. By the end of it all, with beard trimmed (but definitely not into the godawful mutton chops he had back in the day) and washed, and hair shorn to his mid 20s look, McCree both felt and looked like a new man.
“Dang Froggy, y’sure know how to clean a fella up,” Jesse says, admiring himself in the mirror of Lucio’s bathroom. With his hair so short, his head feels leagues lighter, and the back of his neck is surprisingly cold without his oaken locks covering it. He’d owe Luc a big favor for this one. The man himself is looking proud as can be, his phone out and pointed McCree’s way.
“Well, Big Cat, I used to give haircuts to the kids in my neighborhood and I’m pretty damn good at it, if I do say so myself,” Lucio says, snapping a few photos of the back of his hair.
“Luc, I’m pretty much convinced that yer a patron saint or an angel in disguise at this point,” he turns to face his friend, letting the younger man take glamour shots of his front and sides. He shoots a roguish grin at the camera and Lucio wolf-whistles at the shot he gets from that.
“Sure know when to raise hell, though- Damn, Eastwood, want me to send this one to Legolas?” He turns the phone to Jesse, his lascivious visage staring back at him. Christ , if those aren’t some bedroom ey-
“Wait- did you offer to send that to Hanzo?”
McCree’s surprise must be written all over his face because Lucio quirks a brow at him, smirking knowingly. “Well, duh. You two are a thing , right?” McCree purses his lips, a part of him desperately wanting to say yes and the other part unsure as to what to call himself and Hanzo. They hadn’t exactly talked about what their relationship is at length. Even though McCree wanted to, he hadn’t brought it up with Hanzo yet. He was a bit scared to- what if Han wanted to keep this casual? Because he certainly wanted a monogamous relationship with the handsome archer. As far as he could tell, Hanzo didn’t seem to want anything more, and he didn’t want the others to talk like they were together behind their backs, lest word get to Han and ruin everything. It was better to act like they weren’t anything other than friends to the rest of the team, for the time being.
He decides to play it safe. “Uh… Would you believe me if I said no?”
“Nah, but it’s cool, it’s cool. Just our lil’ secret, Eastwood,” he grins at him, fingers flying across the keys on his phone. He hears the distinct sound of a message sent before Lucio pockets his phone, “hope you don’t mind that I sent the pictures to Hana, she heard I was cutting your hair and wanted to know what you looked like. Sure she’ll be disappointed that I didn’t shave you bald, though.”
McCree shakes his head with a snort, “Hana can be disappointed all she wants. You’d have two angry men chasin’ after you if you’d pulled that, Froggy.”
A sly smile crosses Lucio’s features as he leans against the wall, pointing a questioning finger McCree’s way even with a knowing glint in his eyes, “oh? You and who, Big Cat?”
Jesse thinks fondly of all the times that Hanzo would stroke his hair, fingers weaving their way through the oaken locks, and has to stop himself from sighing happily. “Pretty sure Han would have your head for shavin’ mine.”
“And you say you’re not a thing, pfft. Okay, Eastwood, you keep telling yourself that.”
McCree’s mouth twists into a grimace that he hides with a hand over his lips, stroking the clean hair of his beard. Unfortunately, he will keep telling himself that. Until he and Hanzo had figured out what exactly they were.
If that ever happened.
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The overall team reaction to his new ‘do was ridiculously positive.
Lena’s jaw dropped at the sight of him, and he could barely get a word in before she blinked off to alert the rest of the old team that, “McCree’s been replaced with his younger self!” Angela agreed with her, as did Reinhardt and even Torbjorn; McCree looked ten years younger with his hair cut so short, and his beard all trimmed and cleaned up. Genji had a few quips for him, par the course for one of his closest friends.
“You may look younger, McCree, but you will never look as young as me.”
“That’s ‘cuz yer dolled up as a timeless tin bucket, Genji.”
“At least I am not dressed as a honky-tonk cowboy.”
He was in the middle of being inspected by Mei, who was cooing over how young he looked, when he spotted Hanzo in the doorway of the common room. McCree’s heart skips a few beats at the sight of him, and he can’t stop the smile that forms on his lips when he catches Hanzo’s eye. The archer is staring at him, mouth pressed into a tight line, with hands balled into fists at his sides. McCree’s brows furrow at the sight- what was wrong with him?
He doesn’t get a chance to call out to him before Hanzo is turning on his heel and briskly walking away from the common room.
McCree tries not let it get to him, but seeing his… friend-with-benefits(?) walk away so abruptly doesn’t do anything positive for him. In fact, it has the pit of his stomach feeling like lead, and his heart twisting uncomfortably in his chest. For a moment, he thinks he must’ve done something wrong in the two days they’d been back at base to cause such a turnaround in Hanzo’s attitude towards him. Jesse mentally goes through everything he’s done in the past few days, trying to find a point in time where he’d upset Hanzo, and is already drafting some sort of apology in his head when he feels his phone vibrate in the pocket of his blue-jeans.
He fishes it out of his pocket and unlocks it with a swipe, eyebrows raised at the message on his screen.
Han: Please meet me in my quarters in approximately an hour.
Now, what could that mean?
Jesse shrugs one shoulder, shooting back an ‘okay honey’ before he pockets the device. Guess he’ll find out when he gets there.
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McCree whistles a soft tune as he walks through the halls to Hanzo’s room, hands in the pockets of his blue jeans. Most of the crew is piled into the common room for game night, but he and Han tend to sit those out. Hanzo doesn’t really like the crowd, and McCree can’t sit still for too long. Instead, they tended to either train or go into town on game nights, creating their own tradition. So, while it was fun to try and watch Mei hand everyone’s asses to them at Monopoly, McCree had a grumpy archer to be with tonight, for more reasons than just their normal tradition.
The evening air is perfectly mild, smelling of salt and the sea. McCree inhales a lungful happily. He wonders if he can convince Hanzo to step out of the room and take a walk with him on this perfect night. A part of him whispers that he could bring up what had been bothering him for a bit now. Jesse desperately wants to know what he and Hanzo are , if they were going to make this something more official. And he wants them to be. He craves the domestic intimacy of a relationship, and he’s been fantasizing about it damn near constantly, with Hanzo as the star of his daydreams. But, then again, he doesn’t want to risk scaring his favorite archer off, so he’s bit his tongue and kept his mouth shut in favor of letting his desires be known.
He stops outside of Hanzo’s room, spurs jingling at the sudden halt in movement. Han had probably heard him coming from a mile away. Jesse raises his prosthetic arm up to knock on the door. His fist has barely connected with the door when it opens for him, revealing his favorite archer staring up at him.
Hanzo is standing just beyond the threshold, his expression damn near identical to the one that he wore earlier when he’d seen Jesse in the common room. Those gorgeous eyes of his are boring into McCree without reprieve, lips pressed into the tightest line. Jesse opens his mouth to ask what was wrong, because that’s not an expression he sees pointed his way often, and Hanzo’s hands shoot out to grip the collar of his shirt and haul him into the room.
“Wha-”
He can barely get a syllable out as the door closes behind them, and Hanzo’s mouth is on his, hot and insistent. Jesse swallows down whatever he was even thinking of saying, which he can’t really remember now, in favor of leaning into the desperate kiss. Han is on his tiptoes to reach McCree’s mouth (and fuck if that isn’t so damn cute), and is turning his head to slot their lips together more fully. As much as Jesse would like to give in to Hanzo’s demanding tongue licking at the seam of his mouth, he wants to know what exactly brought this on. It takes a lot of willpower to pull away from Hanzo’s kisses, and to keep Han from reconnecting their lips immediately after they part, but he manages with the help of his hands on Hanzo’s shoulders.
“Whoa,” Jesse breathes out, voice slightly hoarse. He clears his throat, trying to ignore Hanzo’s petulant glare aimed his way (even that’s cute, the way he’s pouting over not getting his way), and tries again, “whoa, Hanzo. ‘M not complainin’ but what in God’s name is this all about?”
Hanzo purses his lips and, in lieu of an answer, drags his hands up McCree’s neck to his freshly shorn hair. A tingle of arousal skitters underneath Jesse’s skin at the brush of Hanzo’s hands against his neck. He can feel a welcome, insistent heat pool in his midsection, faster than usual, and the realization hits him like a train.
Oh no .
Now he remembers why he’s been keeping his hair grown out for so long.
Damn neck is the most sensitive part on his body, and now it’s exposed for everyone to see. For Hanzo to see. And to take advantage of and- fuck-
Hanzo doesn’t seem to notice McCree standing up straighter at the contact of his hands and the sun-kissed skin of his neck, more focused on the shortened strands on the back of his head.
“You cut your hair,” he says matter-of-factly, as if that explains everything. His nails scratch at Jesse’s scalp, sending delightful shivers up and down his spine at the contact.
McCree feels arousal like molten lava flowing through his veins, sluggish and searing him from the inside out. He trembles just the slightest bit as Hanzo drags his nails down to the back of his neck. Fuck .
“Y-Yes, I did, darlin’- holy- but what does tha-”
Hanzo yanks him down to his level, forcing McCree to bend with him. His umber eyes burn into Jesse, and the heat that’s been surging through the cowboy’s veins increases in intensity. He swallows down a gulp as Hanzo tilts his head just so, lips so close to touching. “I like it,” he whispers against his parted lips, and Jesse can’t help but suck in a desperate breath.
“O-Oh, tha-”
Hanzo shuts him up with teeth biting down into his bottom lip. McCree gasps audibly as the archer pulls his lip back a bit, worrying the skin between his teeth before he releases it with an audible pop. Jesse groans, lips tingling and body thrumming with arousal. He can feel himself hardening in his jeans, just as Hanzo’s hands return to his hair, delightful nails scratching at his scalp again.
“I really like it, Jesse.”
Jesse takes the initiative this time, surging forward as his hands find a home on Hanzo’s hips. His favorite archer lets him in easily, mouth parting to accept McCree’s tongue as his own presses forward to play. The slick, wet sounds of their kisses does wonders to McCree, whose cock is pressing against the front of his jeans, desperately searching for contact. He moans into Hanzo’s mouth as the archer’s sucks on his tongue, teasing the muscle with his teeth and canting his hips forward to press their hips together.
Jesse can feel Hanzo hard in his sweats.
Holy fuck , this is farther than they’d ever gone before- and Hanzo seems to be just as eager as McCree is.
The archer’s hands leave his head ( damn it ) and slide down Jesse’s front. His fingers make quick work of the buttons on McCree’s shirt, exposing his chest to the air with every fastener undone. Jesse’s head spins as Hanzo’s palms connect with his hairy chest, igniting fires under his skin with the touch, and drags down to press at his softer middle. Groaning into his mouth, McCree drags his hands around to paw at the archer’s ass. He grabs both cheeks with his hands through the sweats, and doesn’t that sound of desperation spilling from Hanzo’s lips just sound so sweet ?
When the archer moves to pull away, he’s reluctant to let him go, but the desperate need for air makes itself known as his lungs burn and his head spins. Hanzo doesn’t go far, rocking back onto his prosthetic heels and gazing up at Jesse with half-lidded eyes.
“Bed,” Han breathes out without room for question, and Jesse agrees with a sharp nod, not trusting his voice to stay steady.
He manages to kick his shoes off as Hanzo leads him to his bed. The archer’s quarters are still so sparse, but there’s little knick knacks here and there that make it seem more like a home. A few of the presents he’s given Hanzo over the course of the past year are on his dresser, a rabbit figurine and a (purely ironic) snow globe from Santa Fe. He glances at them and fondness tugs at his heart strings, distracting him momentarily from the more pressing matters at hand. Like the fact that Hanzo was tugging his shirt off, letting McCree see the muscled plains of his back, scarred and sinewy. He swallows audibly, tugging his own shirt off his arms just as Han turns to face him, a coquettish look in his eyes.
“Come here, cowboy,” Hanzo purrs, perching on the edge of the bed and beckoning Jesse forward with a crooked finger. He almost trips over himself in his haste to get to the bed, heartbeat beating at his rib cage and anticipation making him tremble just the slightest bit. Clambering up onto the bed to hover over Hanzo’s lap, McCree places his hands on the other’s muscled shoulders, breath catching in his throat at the sight of his favorite archer’s lascivious smirk.
He goes to push the other down to lay against the bed. Hanzo seems to have different plans, as he twists and throws Jesse down on the mattress and climbs on top of him, finding a new perch right on his lap. Han braces his hands on Jesse’s chest, nails scratching through the wiry hair against his sepia skin. He pushes his hands up, up, up , until they’re back in his freshly shorn hair, and McCree’s eyes flutter at the soothing feeling of someone playing with his hair. His grip on the archer’s hips tighten as the man in question leans over until he can press his lips against his cheek. Open-mouthed kisses blaze a trail up his jaw to his ear, and then the lobe is captured between Hanzo’s teeth and tugged and-
“O-Oh god , honey, fuck- Hanzo,” McCree groans out, canting his hips up in search of some sort of friction that Han gives him with a press of his own hips down. He chokes on a sound of desperation, grinding upwards against the archer’s own tented slacks without an ounce of shame. Hanzo chuckles in his ear, the sound reverberating through him and pooling molten arousal in his stomach.
“Jesse,” he hears the archer breath against his skin and fuck , he sounds so damn good all husky and needy, “do you want to know what my favorite thing about your new haircut is?” He drags his lips down to press against the thick muscle of his neck. Fuck if that doesn’t send a bolt of arousal straight to Jesse’s cock, which he swears he can feel twitching in his jeans. His skin tingles with pleasure underneath Hanzo’s lips. He grinds into him with more insistence, eyes squeezed shut, as molten heat surges through his veins. Hanzo is quiet, save for the sound of him sucking on the skin of Jesse’s neck eagerly. Head spinning at the feeling, he can barely manage to gasp out-
“W-What is it, sugar?”
Hanzo parts from his neck with an audible pop, lips red and slick with spit as he pulls back to catch Jesse’s eyes. His hands find their place on either side of McCree’s neck, one of his thumbs pressing down into the mark he had just made. Hanzo’s smirk is akin to that of a cat that had gotten the cream.
“I get to mark you up all over , and you can no longer hide it with your hair, and let everyone know who has you wrapped around their finger,” he pauses to curl himself more bodily over McCree, eyes boring into his without an ounce of reprieve, “who is mine .”
Mine .
“I...I’m yours?” He can’t help but question it. His heart has stopped its beating in his chest at the statement, skipping over a few necessary beats as it tries to restart after hearing confirmation that Hanzo thought of him as his own. As his . Jesse’s grip on Hanzo’s hips tighten to damn-near bruising, leaving his own marks on the archer in kind. He’s practically breathless as he struggles to voice his question, “y’really mean that, Hanzo? ‘Cuz, fuck, I’ve been waiting to hear you say that for weeks now.”
Hanzo looks surprised, brows raised towards his hairline. He sits up, confusion now crossing his features. Jesse stares at him, feeling the mood start to sour with every passing second. Had he said something wrong? Maybe it was just in the mood dirty talk? Jesse’s mouth flops open like a fish out of water, trying to catch his breath enough to apologize for crossing the line, because he really shouldn’t have just assumed that Han-
“You mean to say that you thought that you were not mine?” Hanzo asks, interrupting McCree’s internal panic, his brows now furrowed, “when we have been dating for almost three months now?”
McCree splutters at that, unable to keep an incredulous smile off his face. What?! Hanzo said they were dating- said that they were dating ! All of his trepidations and worries melt away at so simple of a confirmation, one he didn’t even need to ask for.“Dating? You never said we were dating !” Jesse knows he’s being loud but he can’t help it. His heart aches with happiness. The grin that forms on his face is ridiculous and he knows it but he can’t stop smiling. Dating .
The sudden outburst obviously takes the archer by surprise. Jesse watches Hanzo flush in shades of crimson, chin tucked into his chest, as he averts his eyes from the cowboy’s gaze. “I thought,” he pauses to suck in a breath, obviously embarrassed, “that it did not need saying, on the night we first kissed. I assumed we were dating at that point-”
McCree cannot help the laugh that bubbles out of his throat. Hanzo, bless his soul, whips his head up with hackles ready to be raised, but McCree manages to stop him by reaching up to cup his face and pull him down into a searing kiss. The archer tenses at the sudden press of their lips together but melts against him easily enough after a few moments, especially as Jesse’s fingers tangle in his hair.
McCree pulls away to look into Hanzo’s gorgeous umber eyes, which are boring into him with unrestrained affection hiding in their depths. Gods , what did he do to deserve someone so beautiful, so good for him.“Yes, yes, we’re dating,” Jesse breathes against his lips, peppering kisses on his smiling mouth, “of course sugar, we absolutely are dating, an’ you can go an’ mark me up good and proper to let everybody else know we’re datin’, my sweetpea, my honey bear, my darlin’ archer, mine .”
Hanzo laughs, shaking his head just the slightest bit as he tries to return each and every one of the kisses he’s been given. “I will,” he replies, shuffling backwards to press his hips against Jesse’s flagging erection, “as long as you do the same.” Jesse shifts back at that, brows shooting up towards his hairline in a reflection of what Hanzo had done earlier. He glances down at the alabaster column of Hanzo’s neck and nods jerkily, imagining it covered in mottled purples and yellows of his own creation. A primal part of him feels sated just thinking about it, the desire to claim Hanzo as his with a veritable plethora of hickeys making itself known in the pit of his stomach.
Hanzo seems pleased with his response, as he dips his head to lick a stripe up McCree’s dark skin. The cowboy turns his own head to give him more room to work with. Head spinning, his hands find purchase on Hanzo’s ass once more, only this time, he dips them below the waistband of the archer’s sweats to touch him skin-to-skin. His lover’s audible moan, and the way he parts from a mark he was sucking into his skin, is music to Jesse’s ears.
“Mmn,” Hanzo hums, mouth latching onto another part of McCree’s neck. The sucking sounds, the dull pain of being bruised, the way Hanzo’s teeth nip at the skin; all of it is just so damn good . His erection, which had flagged during their brief confusing conversation, returns to its previous state. The way it presses at the front of his jeans, desperate and straining, makes it hard to focus on much else either than the demanding need for less pressure. With Hanzo working on yet another mark, this one just under the curve of his jaw, Jesse extricates his hands from the back of his sweats to make quick work of the fasteners keeping his cock restrained.
It’s a damn relief when he manages to lessen the pressure on his thickness, which is obviously tenting his boxers. The rest of his clothes, his boxers and his jeans, could wait to be removed-
“Take them off,” Hanzo whispers breathily into his ear, sending delightful shivers up the cowboy’s spine, “I want to see your cock, McCree.” Nope. They could not wait to be removed- coming off now . Han’s teeth find Jesse’s earlobe once again, and he can’t help but shake as he struggles to shove the offending undergarments down his legs. The archer helps by shifting onto his hands and knees, his task of marking McCree all over forgotten for just a moment, and tilts his head so he can watch with amusement as Jesse attempts to shimmy his too-tight jeans and underwear down enough to let his cock bob freely in the air. With a final wiggle, he manages, his dick freed from the restraints of cloth, both the waistband of his jeans and boxers now around his mid-thigh. He can feel his cock twitch in the cold air, arching upwards and straining for some sort of contact. The six frenum piercings on the shaft glint in the space between them.
He chances a look up at Hanzo’s face, hoping to see some sort of positive reaction, and is pleased to find that the archer is staring at his cock with wide eyes and lips parted. Han reaches a careful hand down, touching his fingers to the tip and dragging them down to press against the frenum. McCree’s breath catches in his throat at the contact, at the feel of Hanzo’s calloused fingertips on the shaft, and his cock twitches with a drop of pre dribbling out of the slit. Fingers dancing down his shaft towards his piercings, Hanzo makes an amused noise in the back of his throat at the sight of pre-come leaking out of Jesse’s slit. McCree places his hands back on the archer’s hips, fingers digging into him as Hanzo takes his time mapping out his cock with curious fingers. The moan that falls from his lips as those fingers play with each and every barbell on his shaft is all sorts of desperate.
“McCree,” Han finally says, hand abandoning Jesse’s cock to push his inky black hair out of his face, exposing those hungry umber eyes to the cowboy’s own desperate amber ones, “I want to feel this inside me.”
Fucking Christ-
Jesse struggles to catch his breath enough to form a response, choking on his own spit like he was. Plus he was pretty sure he almost came right then and there at just the thought of fucking Hanzo- and Christ, wasn’t that a pretty mental image. Hanzo, hole stretched wide around his thick cock, making the prettiest noises as he plunged into his willing ass, until he came with McCree’s name on his tongue, his gaping hole leaking the cowboy’s thick come-
“Mother fucker ,” McCree hisses, throwing his head back and squeezing his eyes shut in an attempt to not come early. Hanzo pays him no mind, the sound of fabric rustling coming from above him. Jesse tries to think of all sorts of unsexy things (Gabriel Reyes’ screaming at him for fucking something up while he was in Blackwatch, Torbjorn in his entirety, Genji throwing up on his shoes after a kegger) to distract him, but it doesn’t help much, as he hears the soft sound of fabric hitting the floor and then hard flesh pressing against his own.
His eyes shoot open, head whipping up to stare at the space between them. Hanzo’s cock is so much smaller than his, by a few inches (and, well, that’s to be expected- McCree is a big boy ), and it’s pressed right up against his, shaft to shaft. Hanzo is in the middle of wrapping his hand as best he can around the both of them, struggling to fit both his own thickness and McCree’s very thick member in his palm. He grunts when that proves to be more of a difficult task than he expected, shooting a glare up at McCree as if he blames him for how large his cock is. Jesse chuckles, strained with arousal, at the expression. He moves to reach down and wrap his hand around the both of them before pausing with a hum. Ah .
“Hanzo, darlin’,” he says, watching the archer tilt his head up with a curious look in his eyes, “if you could, lube’s in the top drawer.” Jesse makes sure to waggle his brows, which draws the sweetest laugh from his lover.
“Are you insinuating that you are going to fuck me, Jesse McCree?” Hanzo teases, sitting back on his haunches and leveling McCree with the most haughty look he’s ever seen. Jesse purses his lips in confusion, brows drawn together. Didn’t he just say…?
“Well, yeah,” he mutters, rubbing his thumbs against the curve of Han’s hips, “thought y’said that you, uh, wanted me to?” Jesse chances a curious, yet hopeful, look up at Han’s face. The archer’s smile curls in the most feral, dangerous type of way. He grinds his hips back, slotting McCree’s thickness between the taut muscle of both of his cheeks, and drawing the most pained, desperate groan from the gunslinger’s lips.
“Mm,” he hums, sing-song and satisfied with Jesse’s reaction, “I think I will save that for another time. When I can have you all to myself for the whole day.” Hanzo pauses, rotating his hips in a slow circle and sending the most delicious tendrils of molten pleasure through Jesse’s veins. He leans down, making sure to catch the gunslinger’s pleasured gaze in his half-lidded one, and smirks . Self-satisfied, like the cat that had gotten the cream. “I have a feeling I will not want to leave your lap for quite some time after I get this ,” he punctuates the word with a thrust of his hips backwards (good Gods , McCree’s thoughts are absolutely gone), “in its rightful place.”
While Jesse’s head is spinning from his archer’s surprisingly filthy words, Hanzo shuffles up his body until he can reach over to the nightstand and fish the half-empty bottle of lubricant out of it. Oh, if he wanted to play that game, trying to out-seduce (not that he had to do much to seduce him; just a bat of Hanzo’s pretty eyelashes had McCree’s insides twisted into a pretzel) the other, then he could play the game too. While words were always good, McCree certainly liked to take action. Jesse takes advantage of the man’s position closer to his face, and pulls his chest against his eager mouth.
“ Oh ,” he hears Hanzo breathe out, as he sucks a hickey into the skin of his left pectoral, right near the dragon’s tail. Damn right, oh . The archer rocks against him, rutting his cock into the skin of his middle while letting McCree pepper his pectorals with suckling kisses, bites, and swipes of his tongue. Every hickey left on the expanse of his chest causes Hanzo to release breathy moans and content sighs, all serving as motivation for McCree to continue his ministrations. He kisses up towards his collarbone, and manages to yank Hanzo down enough to suck a bruise into the skin just below his jaw, before he finally lets the man go. Lips slick with spit and red from use, he lays back, feeling a primal sort of satisfaction in the pit of his stomach at the sight of Hanzo marked up.
If the puddle of pre-come pooled in the middle of his abdomen was any indication, he wasn’t the only person feeling satisfied at the possessive display.
Han’s face is red across his face, roses blooming underneath the skin of his high cheekbones, winding down his neck to settle at the top of his newly-marked chest. He’s got his lower lip between his teeth, the skin worried and just as scarlet as the surrounding flesh. Jesse marvels at him, watching the breathtaking sight with wide eyes and a wider smile. Opening his mouth to speak, he suddenly finds himself pressed more forcefully against the bed, with the bottle of lube thrust into his flesh hand.
“Slick up your ridiculously large hand, cowboy,” Hanzo grumbles, shuffling back a bit to line up his cock with McCree’s. Petulant, like he knows McCree is just as good as riling him up as he is with McCree. He can’t help but smirk at his pout, but does as he’s told, even though he could say the same thing about Hanzo’s palms when it came to “ridiculously large”. Didn’t matter how big his hands were- as long as they fit just right in McCree’s, he didn’t care about their size.
Speaking of size… Han is the perfect amount of thickness and length to fit against his cock. It’s long enough to press against all six of his frenum piercings, and thick enough that it feels nice and heavy, solid, against his shaft. Jesse silently delights in this, reaching his slick hand down to wrap around the both of them as best he can, and drawing the prettiest lil’ keen out of his archer’s throat.
Han settles against his chest, propped up on one forearm with his hips angled in just a way that it made it easy to slide for McCree to slide his hand up and down their dicks. The top few inches of his shaft are left untouched, as he focuses on making a tight, wet hole for both of their cocks to fuck into, but moreso on Hanzo’s own pleasure. Although, Han is all the more focused on his satisfaction, peppering his collarbone in biting kisses like he is. He can’t help but grunt and softly groan as Hanzo rocks against him, mouth on his neck once more, muffling all the noises he can feel against his skin. The archer’s possessive nature, his teeth scraping against his pulse point, his hand reaching down to palm against the weeping head of Jesse’s cock- all of it is so damn good.
“Mmn, yes, fuck ,” McCree hisses out, throwing his head back as he speeds up the pace of his hand on their cocks. Hanzo chuckles against his skin, though it’s quickly cut off in a desperate moan when McCree twists his hand on the upstroke. Jesse revels in the bit of a lead he got in this game of theirs, but quickly realizes his mistake when Han pulls away from his mottled skin to glare petulantly down at him. His grip on their cocks loosens just the slightest bit, pace slowing down, when Hanzo shifts to sit up fully on his lap. “Uh, suga-!”
His hand is pushed aside, thrown away like a dirty rag, and then Hanzo is undulating his hips and grinding his thick, weeping cock against McCree’s own. The slide of it, hot and heavy and so damn solid , ignites fire in his veins and pools icy-hot arousal in his midsection. That tell-tale thread tightens faster than it has ever before, almost as quick-trigger as he was in his early twenties. Jesse’s strangled moan causes the most smug look to appear on Hanzo’s face, his half-lidded amber gaze directed down at the cowboy’s expression, contorted in pleasure. Motherfucker , Jesse manages to think through the arousal clouding his brain and making his tongue sit heavy in his mouth, he’s got me wrapped around his damn finger .
“Yes, Jesse,” Han coos, like he read his mind, and Jesse’s head whips up to look at him with wide, yet bleary, eyes, “that’s it. So good. I want you to come just like this.” Oh god, he can’t take this much longer- McCree throws his head back again, exposing the bruised expanse of his neck to the archer’s hungry gaze. Han hums happily at that, pressing one of his hands against the divot between Jesse’s pectorals to brace himself as he shifts back just enough to wrap his hand, slick with sweat and lube and their pre, around Jesse’s steadily leaking cock.
“Say my name when you come,” Hanzo demands, taking Jesse in hand.
And he does.
It only takes a few strokes, Hanzo’s thumb rolling the barbells underneath his skin with every stroke, and the pad of that digit across his weeping slit to get the too-tight thread in his midsection to snap. With it, pleasure skitters like electricity from a live wire below his skin, up his spine, in the pit of his stomach- he can vaguely hear Hanzo praising him while he strokes his cock through the entirety of his explosive orgasm, and the aftershocks, until McCree is finally back to his sense, albeit with spend painting his torso in quickly cooling streaks.
He can tell Hanzo is satisfied, staring at him like he won whatever game it was that they were playing (which, honestly, was a win-win sort of situation, if he thinks about it). Jesse lets him feel proud and smug for a moment, hands finding their place on the archer’s hips as he props himself up with both hands on his hairy pectorals. He even lets him open his mouth like he was about to proclaim himself the winner, or give an acceptance speech for getting McCree to come first or whatever, when Jesse makes his move.
While Han was looking self-satisfied, Jesse’s hands had drifted down from his hips to the supple, tight curve of his ass. And, just as the archer had let his guard down for a moment, he’d gripped both of his cheeks tightly and hauled him up faster than it took Hanzo to realize what was happening.
Not that the man would complain, what with McCree swallowing down his modest length hungrily.
Whatever it was that Han was planning on saying dies in his throat, only to be replaced with a long-suffering, loud moan. It bubbles out of him, and McCree absolutely relishes in it, especially as the archer’s hands fall to his head and try to grab at long strands that are no longer there. He settles for bracing one hand against the wall behind Jesse and lets the other grip whatever hair he can while McCree’s mouth easily devours his weeping cock. It tastes like salt and unflavored lubricant, which normally puts Jesse off, but he can’t be damned to care about the flavor when Hanzo is letting his name fall from his lips in rapid-fire, staccato syllables. He’s gone back to rocking against him, though this time the push and pull of his hips fucks his cock into McCree’s eager mouth.
He knows it won’t take the archer long, not with how wound up he had gotten him before he’d decided to pull that little stint. Jesse only has to pull one of his cheeks aside, prosthetic fingers digging into the skin and absolutely leaving possessive finger-shaped bruises behind, and press the still-slick digit of his flesh hand against Hanzo’s tense hole for the archer to snap his hips forward and throw his head back on a fucking scream of Jesse’s name. When the tip of his finger slips into his molten, tight, fucking tight , hole, he’s suddenly swallowing down the spurts of hot, bitter come that erupts out of Hanzo.
Apparently past noises, and only choked sounds managing to spill from his lips, with his head towards the ceiling, he lets the archer fuck into his throat for as long as he needs to to come down from his orgasm. Hanzo tugs on his hair when it becomes too much, and, while Jesse is loathe to stop suckling on the head of his softening cock, he lets his lover shuffle back and out of his spit-slick, bruised mouth.
Hanzo collapses against his chest, breathing labored, and McCree silently swells with pride at the knowledge that he made the Hanzo Shimada weak-kneed enough that he couldn’t hold himself up for another moment. That pride multiplies when Hanzo kisses one of the many, many marks he left on his neck, and finally regains his breath enough to say-
“As cheesy as this may sound, Jesse, that was… amazing,” he grumbles, like he doesn’t want to admit it, though there’s an underlying tone of appreciation and (dare he say it- yeah, he dares) love to the compliment. McCree hums in response, wrapping his prosthetic arm around Han’s shoulders and tugging the man as close to him as he can get.
“And, as cheesy as it may sound, Han, you’re the best I’ve ever had,” Jesse teases back, nuzzling into the inky-black strands cascading down Hanzo’s head. The archer hums happily back at him, reaching a hand up to run through the short hair at the nape of his neck. Jesse sighs in content. If he had known a haircut was all he needed to answer the long suffering question of whether or not he and Hanzo were dating, he would’ve shorn off all his hair the minute he’d started debating the intensity of their relationship. Would’ve saved him months of stress.
When Hanzo kisses at his chest and snuggles closer to him, with one arm slung around his slightly softer middle, Jesse knows all those months were well worth the wait. Especially since Hanzo had validated their relationship in such an… intense way.
He thinks about his mottled skin, decorated in purples and yellows, and smirks.
Mine .
------------------------------------------------------
The overall team reaction to his neck being covered in hickeys was mixed.
And by mixed, he meant anywhere from impressed to disgusted to pleased.
Impressed was Lucio, who eyed his neck and waggled his brows at him from across the table at breakfast. McCree returned the expression with a wink, snickering to himself as Hana sat next to Luc and pointedly ignored his mottled neck.
“I’m guessing Legolas liked the new haircut, Eastwood?” Luc says around a mouthful of Luci-Oh’s. Hana frowns at her own cereal, looking like she was seconds away from throwing the bowl at the nearest bin.
McCree pointedly cracks his neck, stretching the bruised skin and exposing it to the light with a sense of pride sitting low in his midsection. “Sure did, Froggy. Though ‘like’ is too mild. It’s better to say my Han-ey bear loved the new ‘do.”
Luc can’t help but break out into raucous laughter, especially when Hana fake gags on a spoonful of whatever sugary cereal she was eating. Jesse just grins at the pair of them, letting them have their fun. Hana threatens to leave the table if he doesn’t stop being gross, but he knows she doesn’t mean it, if the smile stretched across her lips is anything to go by.
Hanzo strides into the dining hall not a few minutes after Luc demands to know if McCree got Han just as good as the archer got him. In lieu of an answer, he just points his eyes towards his lover, who is making a beeline for him, and nods. Lucio follows his gaze and whistles at the sight of Hanzo’s own neck, his collarbones, and what is visible of his pectorals, all covered in various shades of plum, burgundy, and healing yellows.
“Christ, Big Cat. You mauled him ,” Lucio gasps out, even as Hanzo enters hearing distance. McCree rolls his eyes, ignoring the younger man’s statement in favor of tilting his head back and resting it against Hanzo’s pectorals. The soft look that his lover gives him is worth a thousand comments from the Overwatch crew.
“Hey baby,” he coos, and Hanzo’s fingertips trace a particularly large bruise on the left side of his neck. He seems smug again, though his eyes betray the love he has for McCree. Hanzo tilts his head to hungrily capture Jesse’s lips in a quick, heated good morning kiss. The action alone has the entire dining hall quieted immediately, all bodies turned towards the cowboy and the archer.
“ Mine ,” Hanzo growls against his lips.
Jesse sighs in content, “ mine .”
The team all snap back to what they’re doing when they part, Hanzo making his way over to the kitchen area to make his breakfast. Jesse watches him go with hearts in his eyes, sighing happily.
“You two have no shame,” he hears a familiar cybernetic voice chide teasingly behind him. Jesse rolls his eyes and turns to tease him back when he hears Luc clear his throat across the table.
“Uh, you have any place to be saying that, Gen?’ Lucio teases, tugging down the collar of his sleep shirt to reveal his warm brown skin darkened in burgundy bruises along his collarbone, and bite marks on his shoulder.
The second sudden silence is disturbed by Hana dropping her bowl onto the table and splattering milk everywhere, and Jesse’s boisterous laughter echoing off the walls of the dining hall.