Chapter Text
“Howdy,” the tall, broad man standing on Hanzo’s doorstep said as he tilted a weathered cowboy hat in his direction. “Jesse McCree at your service.”
Hanzo stared at the man, momentarily confused as to why he - for the first time since he bought his house - had a stranger standing on his doorstep, until suddenly he recalled a conversation he had with his brother several days ago. The subject, as per usual, had been his stress level thanks to his successful yet demanding job and how he needed to find some way to relax during his downtime.
“You need something other than fish,” Genji had told him flatly. “Something with a pulse that you can actually talk to and touch.”
“There’s nothing wrong with my fish,” Hanzo had uttered, frowning down at his sake. He loved his koi pond. But he knew Genji was right - he needed something more palpable as a means of relaxing.
“I can help you out,” Genji had offered, flashing that charming, slightly sneaky grin of his. “I know a few places. I’ll hook you up.”
Despite his initial weariness, Hanzo had trusted him - and this is what Genji delivered? A huge man masquerading as a cowboy of all things? My brother doesn’t know me at all, Hanzo found himself thinking now, only slightly stung and majorly insulted.
Hanzo’s silence and intense stare made the man’s smile slip. “Hanzo Shimada? This is the right place, ain’t it?” he asked, fumbling for his phone.
“Yes,” Hanzo said.
The man blinked at him, let his phone slip back into his coat pocket. “Aw’right.” He cleared his throat, then flashed him the same disarming grin he’d been wielding when Hanzo had opened the door. “You gonna let me in, or are we gonna get down and dirty on the porch?”
Steadily growing more and more mortified, Hanzo swiftly stepped aside and let McCree in. The man gave an appreciative whistle at the place’s interior, which briefly put Hanzo at ease. He was quite proud of the house he designed for himself, even if it was too big for one man to live in by his lonesome.
“Did they explain the terms to you over the phone?” McCree asked as Hanzo led him into the living room.
“I - no. My brother is the one who called for your services.”
McCree’s grin widened a tick. “Awful nice of him,” he said. “Birthday present?”
“No.” Hanzo frowned a little, unsure of why the man was even interested. He was awfully chatty for a sex worker. “I work strenuous hours and lack a means of unwinding.”
McCree nodded in understanding. Being so close to the city, he probably dealt with a lot of stressed businessmen. “So here I am,” he said.
“Here you are,” Hanzo agreed awkwardly.
McCree took a moment to size him up. Hanzo wondered what he was thinking. He was by no means out of shape, though he was sure it was hard to tell from his plain white button up shirt and slacks. For a fleeting moment he thought about trying to subtly flex, knowing that his shirt sleeves would protest the movement, but McCree continued before he got the chance to show off.
“Anyway, the terms: no marks, no barebackin’, no kissin’ on the mouth, and if I say stop, you stop. Got it?”
Hanzo blinked. It took him a moment to register the fact that this was a Thing that was really about to happen. There was really a male prostitute in his house who was really about to have sex with him. “Got it,” he echoed, lightheaded.
“Good.” McCree shrugged out of his jacket, revealing a thin red and white flannel shirt beneath, and laid it over the arm of the couch. When he turned back to Hanzo, his eyes were dark, his expression describable as ‘hungry.’ “Well, then, darlin’. Shall we get started?”
“Uh,” Hanzo said.
McCree stepped into his personal space easily, almost like he was meant to be there, and placed a large hand on Hanzo’s chest right below his collarbone. Hanzo could smell the cologne the man had on - something spicy and warm, like cinnamon and smoke.
Slowly, McCree leaned down and kissed the side of Hanzo’s neck. His lips were warm and dry, but he remedied this by lashing his tongue out against Hanzo’s skin. It sent a bolt of want down Hanzo’s spine powerful enough to make him stiffen and shudder. It had been so long since he’d felt anything remotely close to sexual pleasure that wasn’t from his own hand. It was almost immediately overwhelming.
“I haven’t,” he choked out, pushing McCree back a few inches, “done this. In a while.”
“The whore thing or the sex thing?”
“The sex thing.” Hanzo blinked up at him, half-lidded eyes on the other man’s slightly swollen, shiny lips. “I’ve never - you are my first, um, hired...help…”
McCree’s grin widened as a guffaw rumbled out of him. “Ain’t no problem, darlin’,” he said, giving his shoulders a squeeze. “Wanna keep things simple?”
Hanzo nodded, feeling more than relieved. Perhaps Genji had been wise to pick this man for him after all.
They moved to the bedroom down the hall, slowly disrobing as they went. McCree kept touching him the whole while, kept fanning that fire steadily growing inside him. They made it to the large bed in the center of the room and sat down, still pawing at each other in a half-assed attempt for dominance.
When McCree finally rid Hanzo of his shirt, he let out an appreciative noise at what he found, which made Hanzo preen. McCree paused to run his fingers over the intricate details of the spiraling tattoo that covered his left arm and pec. “Fancy,” he cooed, seemingly truly impressed by it. “Got some ink of my own, but nothin’ as detailed as this, damn.”
Hanzo had already seen the faded skull tattoo on McCree’s left forearm - crude and probably done in someone’s basement, he’d thought at the time. Now, though, he choked out an awkward thanks, mostly because he was distracted by the feeling of McCree’s hands on his bare flesh. The touch awoke something inside him, something hot and hungry; the need to satisfy it became impossible to ignore.
He started ripping at McCree’s shirt, snarling at him to take it off. The man eagerly obliged, grinning as he shrugged out of the flannel and all but tore off his undershirt. McCree wasn’t in fantastic shape - soft around his hips and stomach and almost obnoxiously hairy - but Hanzo’s mouth watered nonetheless, eager to get a bite of him.
So that’s what he did - as soon as McCree’s chest was bared, Hanzo leaned down and sank his teeth into the skin by his collarbone hard enough to leave faint indents behind. He ran his tongue against the skin there, soothing the wound and tasting the man for the first time.
McCree hissed but didn’t move away. “You look like a biter,” he mused.
“Do I?”
“Mm. You work in this business long enough, you start bein’ able to read people.” McCree shrugged, dragged his lips over Hanzo’s neck. “Every now and then, though, I’m surprised by somethin’. What d’ya say, Mr. Shimada? You got any surprises?”
As he spoke, his hands moved to the zipper on Hanzo’s pants. Hanzo willingly lifted his hips to help speed the process along, and soon enough he was as naked as the day he was born and being assessed by hungry, sweeping eyes.
McCree rumbled like a car engine in appreciation. “No surprises here,” he murmured, scooting down the bed so he could lay between Hanzo’s quivering thighs. “I knew you’d have a mighty fine cock waitin’ for me.”
He was average for a man of his height and build, Hanzo knew, and yet he couldn’t keep the bright red flush from overtaking his cheeks and the tips of his ears. No one had ever complimented his dick before.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” he mumbled, lifting one hand to cover half of his heated face.
“What, can’t take a compliment? Every inch of you is gorgeous, darlin’. You have no idea how relieved I was when you opened the door. Most businessmen I deal with are old dumpy white guys.”
“I’m sure you say that to all your clients.”
“Some,” McCree admitted, “but you’re the first one I ain’t lyin’ to.”
Hanzo nearly believed him.
McCree leaned his cheek against Hanzo’s thigh and looked up at him from beneath his thick lashes. “How you wanna do this?” he purred. “I could keep it simple with a blowjob. I’ve been told I’m pretty good with my mouth.”
He winked, making Hanzo roll his eyes and smirk. “I suppose I should be the judge of that,” he agreed, spreading his legs so that the cowboy could settle between them.
McCree hummed, pleased, and wasted little time in getting to work. He handled Hanzo’s cock gently, his touch feather-light as he rolled the condom on. He took another minute of simply observing it, of holding the base of it in his grip and giving it a few light pumps, like he was getting a feel for it.
Then he dove in, swallowing Hanzo’s length in one elegant bob of his head. Hanzo choked on his own breath as one of his hands lashed out to tangle in McCree’s hair. His grip was harsh for a moment as he was caught off guard, but he recovered his senses enough to loosen his fingers and stutter out an apology.
McCree just smirked and pulled off his cock long enough to rasp, “S’all right, darlin’. I like it a lil’ rough.”
Hanzo bit his lip and shut his eyes as McCree got back to work, bobbing his head and hollowing his cheeks and lashing his tongue just right against him. One of the cowboy’s hands left Hanzo’s hips to snag his hand and place it back on his head. He flashed a wink, and Hanzo couldn’t believe that he somehow made it look alluring even when his mouth was stuffed full of cock.
Hanzo’s orgasm was suddenly upon him far too quickly for his liking, but there wasn’t much he could do besides warn McCree that he was coming. He expected the cowboy to pull away, but instead the man hummed, deep and eager, and took him all the way down one last time.
Hanzo came with a strangled curse. McCree would have taken it all if not for the condom, a fact that Hanzo was all too aware of - or perhaps that was just wishful thinking. Either way, the mere idea of it was enough to rocket him straight into the heavens where he rode out the rest of what was probably one of the best orgasms of his life.
Eventually he came back into his body and chanced a glance down at the man between his legs. McCree blinked hazily back at him from where he'd lain his head on Hanzo's thigh, his lips swollen and glistening, and Hanzo felt his cock give a valiant twitch. At his age, a round two so soon after climaxing was unprecedented, and yet the beast inside him was not sated.
With a near-animalistic noise, he flipped their positions, sending the cowboy grunting into the pillows. “Your turn,” Hanzo growled, reaching for McCree’s pants. The poor zipper was straining under the pressure, which was pleasing in and of itself.
McCree looked stunned for a moment, like he wasn’t used to his clients reciprocating, before a lazy grin stretched across his face. “Well, shoot, darlin’,” he crooned, folding his arms behind his head. “Don’t let me stop you. Spare condom's in my pants pocket.”
With trembling hands, Hanzo fished the foil packed out and returned to the bed to undo McCree's ridiculous belt - BAMF? Seriously? It didn’t shock him that the man was going commando - no, what utterly took him off guard was the massive surprise waiting for him upon yanking the man’s pants down.
Hanzo stared at the behemoth nestled in the curls of McCree’s crotch. “Is this enhanced?”
McCree picked his head up. “Huh?”
“This cannot be natural,” Hanzo muttered, reaching out to take McCree’s cock by the base. It was firm and warm in his grasp, and thick, like the rest of McCree. It was also a terrifying nine and a half inches, give or take. Impressive, but good god.
McCree’s lazy grin widened as he folded his arms behind his head. “All natural,” he assured him. “And all yours, darlin’.”
“Hm.”
Hanzo settled between McCree’s legs and rolled the condom on his cock. He couldn’t stop staring at it, at the flushed tip and the large vein running up the side of it. It made his mouth water. He wished he could taste it without the condom in the way.
“You gonna stare at it all night or are you gonna touch me?” McCree asked, only slightly breathless as he sent his client a half-assed glare. Frustration was a good look on him, Hanzo mused, smirking.
“Patience,” he murmured, bringing McCree’s cock to his lips, just enough that he could feel his hot breath skating across the flushed tip. The masculine scent made Hanzo’s head spin pleasantly.
There was no way Hanzo would be able to take all of it, so he did what he could, sucking on the head of it while his hands pumped the shaft in time with his bobbing head. McCree appreciated it, judging by the noises rumbling out of him.
As he worked, Hanzo started to explore the other man, moving one hand to fondle his balls. McCree’s breathing hitched as he automatically spread his legs. Taking that as an open invitation, Hanzo’s hand went lower, testing and teasing the skin he found there. He rubbed the pad of his thumb gently over McCree’s hole, pressing only the slightest bit, waiting to hear if McCree told him to stop.
The noise that McCree made went straight to Hanzo’s cock. “Fuck me,” the cowboy groaned, pressing his hips down on Hanzo’s hand.
And Hanzo, stupid with lust, muttered out a husky reply, “Maybe next time.”
McCree cursed again, thrashed hard enough to almost dislodge Hanzo from his crotch, and uttered out a wheezy, “‘M gonna come, darlin’, please.”
Hanzo scooted up the bed until he was lying alongside McCree, his hand still frantically pumping the other man’s cock. McCree choked and gasped and writhed as he came, and Hanzo, so enraptured by the sight, leaned over to kiss him, swallowing those delicious noises.
It might have just been his wishful thinking, but he was pretty sure that the cowboy kissed him back.
Reality returned to him far too quickly. Hanzo reared back, mortified. “I-I’m sorry,” he babbled, “I forgot the no kissing rule.”
To his relief, McCree just chuckled. “S’all right, darlin’, most first-timers usually do,” he assured him as he pulled off the used condom and threw it in the trash with Hanzo's. He glanced at Hanzo’s lips. “For you, I think I’ll let it slide.”
“Thank you.”
McCree’s smirk widened as he flopped back onto the pillows. “You’re a strange fella, y’know that?”
“You say this now, after already having sex with this ‘strange fella’?”
“All in a day’s work.”
He sounded a little bitter about it, Hanzo realized. He assumed some sex workers only did what they did because they were beyond desperate for money. A part of him wondered if McCree was in that same boat or if there was another reason why he was selling himself.
He very nearly opened his mouth to ask before common sense smacked him upside the head. It was none of his business. “Would you like some water?” Hanzo asked him instead.
McCree’s face scrunched up with caution. “Sure,” he said anyway. “Thanks.”
Hanzo fetched them both a glass of water from the filter in the fridge, then hurried back to the bedroom just in time to see McCree finish redressing. “You are leaving?” he blurted before he could stop himself.
McCree nodded. “Stay until the customer is satisfied,” he recited, expression carefully blank. “Unless you’re willin’ to pay for a round two, I think we’re done here.”
McCree accepted the glass of water and chugged it gratefully, then departed with a tip of his cowboy hat and a faint smile that almost reached his eyes.
Hanzo went to bed that night, cold and strangely unsatisfied despite having what had been the best sex of his life. He realized later that, out of everything he and McCree had done, Hanzo had enjoyed simply having someone lying next to him the most.
As soon as McCree heard the door shut behind him, the smile slipped off his face and his usual sullen expression settled. All at once his shoulders sagged with the drop he almost always felt after dealing with a client, but, as he turned to glance back at the face of the nice house he’d just been in and caught Hanzo staring at him out the front window, the sensation faded a little.
Hanzo ducked his head, probably embarrassed at being caught, and offered him an awkward goodbye wave. McCree smiled and returned the wave. Surprisingly, the reaction didn’t feel forced.
Okay, so it hadn’t been all bad, he reasoned, starting to whistle as he made his way down the block towards the bus stop. At least he’d been allowed to finish this time.
He made it back to the bar around closing time. Most of their usual clientele were gone save for a few stragglers still oggling the lone dancer on the pole in the back of the room. McCree ignored all of them and made himself a whiskey on the rocks to help him get to sleep later on.
“Well?” his boss - a massive tattooed dude that McCree knew only as Bogdan - rumbled as he made his way over to him. “How was the new guy? You think he’ll call for ya again?”
McCree shrugged. “Hard to tell,” he drawled. Setting aside the fact that it had been the man’s brother who hooked him up, the guy didn’t seem like he went out much aside from going to work. Still, McCree knew the look of a lonely man. There was a chance he might return for more.
One thing was for certain - Hanzo was sure as hell a lot more fun than the usual folks who booked him. Awkward, yes, but at least he was eager to please McCree in turn. He didn’t get a lot of those and tended to cherish the clients that returned the favor.
“That Rutledge guy booked ya for Friday,” Bogdan told him, instantly shattering his good thoughts to pieces. “It’s been a while, so ya better gear up for a good time.”
McCree downed the rest of his whiskey as his boss cackled at his misfortune.
An hour later, McCree stumbled home, nowhere near drunk enough to forget about his worries but at least he was probably tired enough to pass out without having to take something this time. Ana always gave him shit for raiding her stash.
Speak of the devil - Ana met him in the kitchen as he was hanging up his coat. “Welcome home,” she told him, scaring the piss out of him.
“Ma,” he hissed, frowning at her. “It’s late.”
“It is,” she agreed, moving to hug him. She pulled back almost immediately, her nose wrinkling up with disgust. “You reek.”
“I do work at a bar.”
She huffed but didn’t try to argue. “Wash up and get some sleep,” she told him. “Will we see you in the morning or do you have a shift?”
He had a client at nine, but he could still probably make breakfast with the family. He’d functioned on less than three hours of sleep before. “I’ll be there,” he told her, smiling. “Bright and early?”
Ana chuckled and turned to shuffle back upstairs to bed. “We’ll see about that. Goodnight, habibi.”
He watched her go, trying to mentally ward off the cold creeping in on his bones. “Night, Ma.”