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“You and me, cowboy.”
The words wash over Cole like a rolling wave, warm and deep and all the better for it. They catch Cole so off guard he blushes. Hanzo’s hand is warm in his own, the other even warmer when it slips up the back of Cole’s shirt to trace the strip of skin it exposes above his waistband. Genji and Baptiste, who he’d been up to now having a pretty normal conversation with, react at the same time. Bap snickers into his drink and politely tries to cover it up when Genji glares at him. Cole would feel sympathetic if he weren’t indisposed; that Shimada death glare is damn hard to recover from.
Instead he’s busy letting Hanzo steer him around the room, following right along as they duck out down the hall and onto an open balcony. If Cole didn’t know any better, he’d say he heard a couple whoops on their way out. Surely that wasn’t the case. Their coworkers are goddamn professionals.
The night air is pleasantly crisp as it hits them both, cool compared to the encompassing warmth of Hanzo at his side and the flush of his own face. That warmth is doubled by the little puffs of Hanzo’s breath when he leans right up beside Cole’s face, lips tracing tingling sensation up the shell of his ear. Cole’s just about to kiss him firmer when he pulls away.
“Athena, cease all surveillance to the east wing balcony for the next half hour.”
“Certainly, Agent Shimada. All agents are asked to please keep away from railings and ledges while intoxicated. Doctor Zeigler will be notified immediately if any injury occurs.”
“Yes ma’am,” Cole replies, and then he’s too busy to do much of anything because Hanzo’s pinning him to the wall beside the sliding glass door and kissing him like he’ll never get to do it again. He can feel Hanzo’s smirk against his lips as he reaches, tangles his elegant fingers in shaggy brown hair to hold Cassidy still when he licks into his mouth.
Hanzo tastes like chocolate.
Chocolate and something earthy, distinct on Cole’s tongue where they’re curling against each other, and it takes him way too long to work out what it is when he’s got a ninja purring sweet, distracting sounds into his mouth. There’s a reprieve when Hanzo stops sucking on his tongue in favor of peppering sharp bites along the column of his throat. Cassidy laughs, half-dazed and breathless, lets Hanzo get his fill of skin. He’s got no shame walking around with a couple obvious hickies later.
“Sugar,” and Hanzo makes another pleased sound at the pet name, wedges his knee more firmly between Cassidy’s thighs, “hah, ‘re you high?”
That earns him what he might kindly say was a giggle later on, Hanzo’s breath puffing against the wet bruise he’d been sucking into Cole’s collar. “I may have partaken in some of Lúcio’s baking. He is very talented,” Hanzo insists, and it’s cute in a way that makes Cole chuckle. He’s enunciating every word like it takes real effort not to jumble them together, and Cole would laugh at him if he wasn’t a little busy trying to hump Hanzo’s leg like a dog. Hanzo, who’s giggling again as he sinks his teeth into Cole’s bottom lip and tugs. “Do you know how illegal that is in Hanamura? The clan could have made its fortune dealing in marijuana alone. Old bastards. Always too traditional for anything but weapons.
Cassidy is barely parsing words out of any of that. He might feel a little bad if it weren’t obvious how little Hanzo cares about whatever nonsense he’s spilling, hands busy feeling Cole up under his shirt.
His touch is hot as it slides across Cole’s soft stomach, the sweep turning into a possessive grip on his waist as Hanzo rumbles something affectionate into his mouth. “Why are you so fucking hot,” and Cole chuckles, which earns him a sharper bite to his lip. Hanzo soothes over the sting with his tongue. “I am serious. I had excellent self control before we met.”
“Shucks, darlin’. It’s all part of the package, I s’pose.” Cole shrugs, grin spreading lazy across his face when Hanzo pouts at him. “Y’aren’t too easy to ignore yourself, sugar. M’sure you c’n feel me starin’ from a mile away.”
Hanzo makes a pleasant little sound—Cole thinks it might’ve been an affirmative. Neither of them are paying much attention anymore. Hanzo’s wrestling with Cassidy’s belt buckle, tugs it aside with a scowl like it’s personally offended him for getting so in the way. He pulls Cole half-hard out of his boxers, hooks the waistband of them behind his balls and strokes firmly from base to tip. It doesn’t take long to get him full at attention.
Especially not when Hanzo leans, forehead tipped to Cole’s sternum so he can watch himself do it.
“I want to blow you,” he announces decisively, and it catches Cole so off guard he laughs. He processes it a second later and shakes his head, prosthetic arm coming up to hold Hanzo up by the small of his back as he tries to sink to the floor. Hanzo’s eyebrows knit in his confusion.
“Cole.”
“Next time,” Cole insists, trying with middling success to kiss the frown off Hanzo. His gun hand comes up to pet along the side of Hanzo’s face, fingers brushing up those pretty cheekbones, and the next kiss between them is cloyingly sweet. The frown as gone petulant instead of confused—Cole counts it as a win. He manages to shuffle the front of Hanzo’s sweats down one handed, gets them both in his grip and smiles when it makes Hanzo hum. “Wanna keep ya here with me.”
Hanzo huffs like he’s too caught up to turn it into the laugh it was meant as. “Romantic,” he mumbles, right up into Cole’s mouth as he readjusts their positions. He lifts one of Cole’s long legs to hook around his hips, scooches right up into the space it creates until they’re both pinned in the tight space between them. He humps forward and Cassidy groans, leading Hanzo to smile at him like he’s caught himself a prize. “You have to be quiet… who knows if anyone is walking the halls inside?”
The thought makes Cole’s blood sing. Hanzo looks at him expectantly and he nods his affirmative, earns another biting kiss as Hanzo starts rutting into him.
It’s hot, figuratively and literally, the space between their stomachs growing slick with sweat and precum as they find a steady rhythm, Hanzo’s hands grasping anywhere they can reach. His grip on the thigh Cole has hitched up slips in the perspiration and it becomes up to Cole to keep himself tight to Hanzo’s front, aborted half-sounds strangled out of him by the searing friction and the way Hanzo gropes him. His own hands slide down to clutch Hanzo’s ass, urge him into their mutual rhythm, and the archer looks so goddamn pleased when he recaptures Cole’s mouth.
There’s no reprieve from the onslaught. Cole hopes no one comes out here. He hopes someone does.
Hanzo’s got a warm hand on the side of Cole’s neck, cradling him with a thumb tracing his jaw as he ruts him tight into the wall. He’s watching Cole’s face like it’s the only thing that matters—a couple inches away at most, head tilted, eyes tracing his lips and cheeks and chin as he tries to commit the sight to memory. There’s red flushed high on his cheekbones and his lips are parted in soft pants that Cole can feel on his skin, backlit by the watery light of the moon behind his head. Cassidy can’t imagine looking away.
Hanzo finally meets his eye again and they both laugh, breathless, and this time it’s Cole who goes in for the kiss. Hanzo’s more than happy to comply, if the way his hips cant up is any indication. The hand on his neck shifts up to grip his hair and tugs and Cole makes a desperate noise into his mouth, which sets Hanzo chuckling again. The sound zings up and down Cole’s spine.
The thought that maybe being laughed at shouldn’t do it for him crosses very, very dimly through his mind, but then his nerves are sparking alive and he rushes to stick a hand between them both to catch the mess as he comes. He pants, shaky-kneed and dizzy, mouth slack against Hanzo’s.
Cole still gets his bearings enough to wrap a wet hand around him, though, strokes Hanzo off as well as he can while he gets his legs back under him. Hanzo isn’t far behind. He makes a pleased, purring sound low in his chest as he adds to the stickiness in Cole’s palm, lips smearing across the bruised skin of his throat in the barest attempt at a kiss. Cassidy’s pretty sure he hears him mumble something pleasant, but the question of what it was dissolves off his tongue when Hanzo kisses him again.
His clean metal hand comes up to pet up the back of Hanzo’s neck as they part, and Cassidy only sways a little when Hanzo stops propping him up entirely against the wall. The archer catches sight of the mess in his gun hand and brings it up to his face by the wrist, looking sufficiently pleased with himself when he licks Cassidy’s hand from heel to fingertip and the cowboy just stares. There’s dangerous satisfaction glittering in those pretty black eyes as he swallows, sucks the tip of Cole’s trigger finger into his mouth, the pressure breaking when he laughs breathlessly at Cassidy’s low groan.
“You’re gonna fuckin’ kill me, honey.”
“You would enjoy it,” Hanzo says, still smiling something wicked when he gets up on his tippy toes and kisses Cole firm on the mouth. “Get yourself back together, cowboy. I want to cash in on that next time when we get back to your room.”