The words came sweet on his mind, and Hanzo found himself lost in that constricting feeling in his chest again. Neither of them seemed to have a clear answer about what they were doing, only that they couldn’t leave the other. He had no earthly idea why the cowboy stuck around him, but he knew that without McCree’s presence, he’d have trouble finding his balance. McCree, who had been there to help rally him about talking to his brother again. McCree, who had been there to challenge him and assure that kept his skills sharp. McCree, whose stories didn’t add up but who held an honest heart at the end of the day.
The man who caused this awful ache in Hanzo’s chest.
Hanzo pulled him in, kissing him and it hardly took half a second for the cowboy to reciprocate. It was soft, unlike their first, but it demanded so much more. Before, he could only focus on the way he wanted to hold onto McCree, but this time all he could feel was the sharpshooter’s need to envelop him.
Soft sighs turned into harsh gasps, their mouths mashing together. He was hardly worried about being seen, his angry scowls from earlier had chased everyone else away from the back cargo bay.
McCree crowded him more into the corner, hands grabbing at anything they could of Hanzo, bruising skin and pulling at clothes. Sharp teeth trailed down, biting the juncture at his neck and shoulder.
Hanzo felt as if he were being consumed, that everything around him belonged to McCree. He tangled his hands into the cowboy’s hair, grabbing fistfuls. The growl he received made him shiver and he felt helpless as he was pulled in closer. The transport melted away around him, all that mattered in this moment was the cowboy he was slowly becoming wrapped around.
“This is your pilot speakin’!” Tracer’s voice sprang over the intercom system, making both men jump. “We’ll be landin’ shortly, loves.”
As they caught their breath, he took stock of their position. Hanzo had one leg thrown up over McCree’s hip, metal hand tucked underneath to keep it in place. The cowboy’s face was buried in his neck, beginning to press kisses to his skin, licking at marks that, thankfully, were on the side of his neck that he could cover without it being obvious he was hiding something. His hands were still fisted in McCree’s hair, pulling the locks.He could swear he saw pointed ears but didn’t have time to dwell on it as the cowboy pulled back.
Gold. Deep and rich, alight with want. Hanzo was powerless in that gaze, his body melting against McCree who chuckled and gave him a rough kiss, quick and meaningful.
Hanzo was quick to pull him back for another, breathless and desperate for more. So much more.
McCree laughed again between kisses, his hand kneading at Hanzo’s thigh. “If I’da known this was in store for me, I woulda kissed ya sooner.”
“And I would have put an arrow in your knee.” He was quick to snap back, roughly grabbing at McCree and sliding over so that he straddled the cowboy. There was a sense of normalcy in this, flirtation and rejection- a fine balance as they collided.
Demanding hands grabbed his sides again, making Hanzo acutely aware that they still ached from being dug into. Images of McCree shirtless and sweating against him flooded his mind, morphing into a desire to have that skin against his fingers again.
The pain in his chest burned, drawing a moan from his lips. The pressure was sweet, spurring him on to get closer as he found his hips being guided to grind against the cowboy, not that it was needed as he worked of his own accord.
They were just beginning to find a rhythm when a rough cough made both of them freeze, all movement stopped cold. Jerking to look over his shoulder, he could just barely make out the top of Winston’s head behind the crates in the cargo bay.
“McCree?”
The cowboy grinned at Hanzo as he replied, as if wholly pleased to be caught in such a compromising situation. “What’d’ya need, partner?”
“There are a few mission details I need to go over with you.” A pause. “When you aren’t busy.”
Hanzo swore his face couldn’t get redder. How much had Winston seen of them? How much had he seen of the archer losing himself, giving into the swelling in his chest and letting McCree devour him? He scrambled off the cowboy as fast as he could, stung by the realization that he was acting like an infatuated schoolboy when he was a professional. This was his job, the one thing in life that was giving him a purpose.
And of course, leave it to McCree, the rough and tumble cowboy who couldn’t leave Hanzo alone to save his life, to quickly crowd back over him, and draw him back in for a demanding kiss, before departing with a quietly rumbled, “I’ll see you around, Han.”
As he watched the cowboy leave, he noticed his lip was split again.
The words came sweet on his mind, and Hanzo found himself lost in that constricting feeling in his chest again. Neither of them seemed to have a clear answer about what they were doing, only that they couldn’t leave the other. He had no earthly idea why the cowboy stuck around him, but he knew that without McCree’s presence, he’d have trouble finding his balance. McCree, who had been there to help rally him about talking to his brother again. McCree, who had been there to challenge him and assure that kept his skills sharp. McCree, whose stories didn’t add up but who held an honest heart at the end of the day.The man who caused this awful ache in Hanzo’s chest.Hanzo pulled him in, kissing him and it hardly took half a second for the cowboy to reciprocate. It was soft, unlike their first, but it demanded so much more. Before, he could only focus on the way he wanted to hold onto McCree, but this time all he could feel was the sharpshooter’s need to envelop him.Soft sighs turned into harsh gasps, their mouths mashing together. He was hardly worried about being seen, his angry scowls from earlier had chased everyone else away from the back cargo bay.McCree crowded him more into the corner, hands grabbing at anything they could of Hanzo, bruising skin and pulling at clothes. Sharp teeth trailed down, biting the juncture at his neck and shoulder.Hanzo felt as if he were being consumed, that everything around him belonged to McCree. He tangled his hands into the cowboy’s hair, grabbing fistfuls. The growl he received made him shiver and he felt helpless as he was pulled in closer. The transport melted away around him, all that mattered in this moment was the cowboy he was slowly becoming wrapped around.
“This is your pilot speakin’!” Tracer’s voice sprang over the intercom system, making both men jump. “We’ll be landin’ shortly, loves.”
As they caught their breath, he took stock of their position. Hanzo had one leg thrown up over McCree’s hip, metal hand tucked underneath to keep it in place. The cowboy’s face was buried in his neck, beginning to press kisses to his skin, licking at marks that, thankfully, were on the side of his neck that he could cover without it being obvious he was hiding something. His hands were still fisted in McCree’s hair, pulling the locks.He could swear he saw pointed ears but didn’t have time to dwell on it as the cowboy pulled back.
Gold. Deep and rich, alight with want. Hanzo was powerless in that gaze, his body melting against McCree who chuckled and gave him a rough kiss, quick and meaningful.
Hanzo was quick to pull him back for another, breathless and desperate for more. So much more.
McCree laughed again between kisses, his hand kneading at Hanzo’s thigh. “If I’da known this was in store for me, I woulda kissed ya sooner.”
“And I would have put an arrow in your knee.” He was quick to snap back, roughly grabbing at McCree and sliding over so that he straddled the cowboy. There was a sense of normalcy in this, flirtation and rejection- a fine balance as they collided.
Demanding hands grabbed his sides again, making Hanzo acutely aware that they still ached from being dug into. Images of McCree shirtless and sweating against him flooded his mind, morphing into a desire to have that skin against his fingers again.
The pain in his chest burned, drawing a moan from his lips. The pressure was sweet, spurring him on to get closer as he found his hips being guided to grind against the cowboy, not that it was needed as he worked of his own accord.
They were just beginning to find a rhythm when a rough cough made both of them freeze, all movement stopped cold. Jerking to look over his shoulder, he could just barely make out the top of Winston’s head behind the crates in the cargo bay.
“McCree?”
The cowboy grinned at Hanzo as he replied, as if wholly pleased to be caught in such a compromising situation. “What’d’ya need, partner?”
“There are a few mission details I need to go over with you.” A pause. “When you aren’t busy.”
Hanzo swore his face couldn’t get redder. How much had Winston seen of them? How much had he seen of the archer losing himself, giving into the swelling in his chest and letting McCree devour him? He scrambled off the cowboy as fast as he could, stung by the realization that he was acting like an infatuated schoolboy when he was a professional. This was his job, the one thing in life that was giving him a purpose.
And of course, leave it to McCree, the rough and tumble cowboy who couldn’t leave Hanzo alone to save his life, to quickly crowd back over him, and draw him back in for a demanding kiss, before departing with a quietly rumbled, “I’ll see you around, Han.”
As he watched the cowboy leave, he noticed his lip was split again.
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