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There were a lot of things that were just off about Junkrat.

 

The longer Roadhog travelled with him, the more things he found and the more on edge he became.

 

Some of the stuff he understood.  Junkrat didn’t like to be touched.  Every night and sometimes during the day, he made it painstakingly clear that if he died or just fucking felt like setting off his vest, Roadhog was going with him unless he maintained a lot of fucking distance.  He made a point of serving himself food and didn't let Roadhog touch any of his shit.

 

Honestly, Roadhog didn’t give a flying fuck.  That was pretty normal for their ilk.

 

What Roadhog thought was too fucking weird was the regular dirt baths that Junkrat took several times a day, the way he reacted when Roadhog offered him literally anything, and the increased use of expletives the more he insisted that Junkrat should drink more water, or take a nap.  Besides the threats of the vest, there was a minimum distance he had to maintain to avoid getting a grenade launcher waved in his face, and he couldn’t even look at Junkrat without getting an agitated “get stuffed” and a gold-trimmed sneer.  Junkrat also had the dangerous habit of holding Roadhog’s gaze until Roadhog broke eye contact. Even the stupidest of men knew better than to challenge him like that.

 

Lately, it was all getting worse.

 

And honestly, he should have seen this particular worse coming.

 

Junkrat had been perfectly fine at breakfast, but by the time the sun reached its zenith, he was sweating his ass off.  Roadhog shoved a canteen of water into his lap, and it was the only time in the past two weeks that Junkrat didn't bitch and complain, just gulped it down and curled around the canteen like Roadhog might take it from him. He curled tighter when Roadhog offered him another one.  Roadhog wasn't sure if he was waiting for him to crack him in the head with it or if he was just being his weird idiot self, so he just set the canteen next to Junkrat in the side car and kept driving.

 

Junkrat insisted on freshening his layer of dust damn near every hour. When he wasn't begging Roadhog to stop the bike, he was muttering, and most of what Roadhog heard made him worry that the next time he slept, Junkrat was going to slit his throat.. He was more paranoid than Roadhog had ever seen anyone , and he’d been around some pretty fucked people.

 

It was annoying as shit, and he figured that stopping until Junkrat was over his runs or bad trip or whatever the fuck had gotten into him was better than wringing his neck for making him stop the bike every few klicks.

 

Junkrat fought him on it, of course.  He said that they couldn't stay where they were, they had to keep moving, blah, blah, bitch, bitch, they were staying right there.  Roadhog left him in the side car and set up camp for himself, ready for a meal and maybe a nap, if he could put aside his unease long enough.

 

It wasn’t until he took his mask off to drink that he noticed the faint scent of something strangely familiar in the air.  He couldn't figure out what it was or where it was coming from at first.  There was no one and nothing for klicks in every direction.  It was just him and Junkrat.

 

He took in a deep breath and felt his cock stir on instinct, the scent still faint, but thickening with every passing second.   Heat . The realization slammed into him and he took a deep breath.  God, it smelled so good.  He couldn't pinpoint what it was exactly, but Junkrat smelled like something nostalgic.  In the old world, omegas smelled sweet, like vanilla, mint, or fruit.  Junkrat wasn't like that, or maybe he was and Roadhog just couldn't remember what pleasant things smelled like.  He just smelled like something comfortable underneath the rising stink of unease.  Junkrat was peaking over the edge of the side car, watching Roadhog scent him.  His eyes were narrow and watery and the scent intensified with every panting breath and bead of sweat.  Fear sharpened it, gave it a sweeter edge, made it more maddening.  Roadhog wanted to kill whatever was making Junkrat stink of fear.

 

Too bad that was him.

 

“Fuck me dead,” Roadhog rumbled.  Junkrat had been trying to cover up the sweat and stench of his heat with the dirt and distance.  Roadhog’s mask had likely been a happy coincidence.  “How long did you think you would be able to hide it?” Roadhog asked, an amused edge softening his arousal-roughened voice.

 

“As long as I needed you around,” Junkrat said, raising his hand to reveal a brightly painted bomb clutched in his trembling fingers.  “Think that time might be just about over.”

 

Roadhog let out a harsh laugh and shook his head before turning back to the food he was tending.  Partially to make Junkrat feel less threatened, but mostly to stem his instinct to rush over and make him feel safe.  Or fuck him.  Sometimes it was the one and then suddenly it was the other, he hadn't been around an omega in… Hell, probably years.

 

Instincts were still shitty.

 

“Don't count me out yet, shithead,” Roadhog told him, scratching his stubble and watching a bubble slowly rise to the top of the canned crap he’d put in the pot.  When Junkrat didn't blow him up, Roadhog figured he could make an effort to get him to talk, to try and rework the social bit of their contract.  “Come get something to eat,” Roadhog growled, stirring the pot.

 

“Give me an order again, and I’ll shove this up your ass,” Junkrat snapped.

 

Roadhog heard the pin leave the device, but he kept his head down.  “I don't want to fuck you, Junkrat,” Roadhog told him, though his cock didn't get the memo.  The more Junkrat stank, the tighter Roadhog’s pants got.  They were both lucky he wasn't in rut or he might not be able to control himself.

 

“Aces, I’ll just waltz over and we’ll have some fucking tea,” Junkrat said with false cheer.

 

Roadhog took a deep breath to quell the irritation swelling in his chest, but he just took in a double lungful of Junkrat’s cloying heat instead and it sent a pulse from the pit of his stomach to the tips of his toes.  Junkrat’s fear left a sour taste at the back of his throat.

 

“Move and I’ll blow your ass to kingdom come.”

 

“Oh, fuck off,” Roadhog growled, quickly becoming less likely to fuck Junkrat and more likely to strangle him.  No one talked to an alpha like that.  Junkrat was lucky he was alive after all the eye contact and his bitchy attitude, but this? This was getting to be too much too fast.  How could he not even fucking mention that he was an omega?  He was putting them both in a fucked up position and Roadhog was getting more pissed and goddamned horny with each passing second.

 

“No, you fuck off,” Junkrat hissed.  

 

Some of the fear dropped off, and Roadhog smelled something else, something that made his gut throb and his heart race.  He dragged his mask back down and stirred the pot, his appetite replaced with a different hunger.

 

This was going to be fucking fantastic.

 

Nearly two weeks after Junkrat’s heat ended, Roadhog’s rut began.  If Roadhog thought being around Junkrat during his heat was excruciating, his rut was worse.

 

It was hard to focus on driving with the clawing need inside him.  He was either swerving or decelerating when a hard slap from the side car brought him back to the drive, and he grunted a “yeah” before righting himself and continuing on.

 

His thoughts were trouble.  The taste of dust and gunpowder, moist with sweat, coated his tongue, and his knuckles ached with the force of the grip he had on the handlebars.

 

Occasionally, Junkrat would lose his hyper focus on Roadhog and get lost in thought or working on something.  The reedy cackle he got when his mind wandered went right to Roadhog’s prick each and every time it slipped out.

 

The first spot of shelter they came to, Roadhog stopped the hog, not about to wipe them out from being stubborn.  Junkrat leapt out of the side car as soon as they stopped, and when Roadhog looked up, the other junker was stretching obscenely, all sinew and a spindly mix of limbs.  He clenched his eyes shut and dropped his head back down, trying to compose himself.

 

Stop ,” Roadhog snapped, wishing he could pinch the bridge of his nose, but if he took off his mask, he would just smell Junkrat, even through his layer of dust, even though he wasn’t in heat.

 

The familiar click of an explosive priming answered him, and Roadhog immediately regretted speaking.  Junkrat had finally started to act somewhat normal around him last week, and Roadhog almost hadn't wanted to forget the cash and straight up murder him.  When he finally dragged his head back, Junkrat had that narrow eyed look on his face, and his jaw was clenched.  He almost looked like he didn’t want to blow Roadhog up.

 

“Sorry,” Roadhog grunted once he had taken a few shuddering breaths and convinced himself that asking Junkrat for anything was a bad idea.  All of his squirmy bullshit had to be because Mako was an alpha.  Indicating he wanted anything would ruin the job, their tenuous partnership, he would be halfway across Oz for nothing and probably end up half-blown to shit.

 

“I’m rutting,” he said, tightening his hands on the bike and feeling the creak of the metal in his grip.

 

“No shit,” Junkrat snorted, superiority dripping from his voice.  Roadhog wanted to kill him.  “You smell like- like roadkill left to rot or something.”

 

“We’ll stay here until it passes,” Roadhog growled.

 

“Yeah?” Junkrat asked, his voice soft and a little wary.  Roadhog had been expecting him to fight, to argue, to make things easier for Roadhog to put his foot down.  Instead, his tone just made his instincts go wild.  Protect the omega, make him feel safe.

 

“Shut up,” Roadhog growled.  “Just shut up.  Don't say a goddamned thing, don't even breathe ,” he growled, leaning forward until his mask rested on the bridge between the handlebars, willing some sort of sense to return to him.

 

Junkrat was quiet for less than a second.  “What, so you can tell me to quit whining like a bitch when I’m in heat, but I can't-- wait, what was I doing again?  Think it was a whole lot of fucking nothing.

 

Roadhog felt metal bend beneath his hands and he heard Junkrat curse and scramble away from him.  Shit.  Maybe he couldn't do this.

 

He was only half a day into rut with Junkrat and he had just bent his goddamned handlebars.  

 

“Hey,” Junkrat was close again.  Roadhog didn't know how long he had sat there, wrestling for control, so tense his muscles were beginning to ache from it.  He could feel the heat of Junkrat’s hand before it touched his shoulder and he wanted to grab Junkrat, shove him down and screw his brains out.  “Breathe,” Junkrat reminded him.

 

Breathe .  Junkrat’s hand slid against Roadhog’s back.  It was so nice and Roadhog felt himself unclench slowly.

 

“Haven't rutted around an omega in… a while,” Roadhog said hoarsely.  He had forgotten how hard it was to hold back.  “Makes it worse.”

 

“You need me to fuck off for a while?  Let you rub a few out?” Junkrat offered.

 

Roadhog swallowed the demand for Junkrat to submit to him and nodded.

 

Things would be better in a few days.  They just needed to try to time their cycles with shelter and agree not to fuck or kill each other.  With some goddamned respect for each other’s estrous cycles, they could get through this.  Probably.   They only had a few more months of travel before they would reach the location of Junkrat’s treasure.  

 

Roadhog claimed a room in the fore of their new hideout and didn't even bother laying out bedding before he took himself in his hand.  He tried to ignore the faint cackle a few walls over, but it was easier once he relaxed into the thought of high giggles against his skin and the faint memory of omega slick--how it smelled, felt, tasted …  Roadhog allowed himself to groan and lost himself in thoughts that he would never act on.  

 

Just for now, just for the rut , he told himself.

 

Junkrat’s next heat was right on time.  They holed up in a dinky little town and the first night that they spent at the inn, Roadhog made a big show of posturing for any curious assholes that dared to come sniffing too close to them.  It was mostly betas, but there were two alphas that came into the bar.  One ignored them, as much as he could, anyway, with Junkrat’s scent flooding the bar and much of the town.  It smelled like he hadn't been fucked in years, and Roadhog was just glad he wore his mask to keep most of the stench out.

 

“Christ, I wish I’d found an alpha like you sooner,” Junkrat said with a cackle when he watched the second alpha take one look at Roadhog before turning right back around to walk out.  All of the betas were giving them a table’s radius around their corner booth.

 

At the high, joy-filled sound, Roadhog saw every single head half-turn toward them before they caught themselves.  

 

“You seem pretty able to fend for yourself,” Roadhog commented, enjoying the feeling of being protective of an omega, even if it was a treacherous, instinctive notion that wouldn't last or go anywhere.

 

Junkrat snorted and nodded with a “too right.”  Junkrat hadn't mentioned his arbitrary minimum space rule ever since Roadhog had ended his rut, and the omega’s knee kept bumping Roadhog’s leg as he jiggled with nervous energy.

 

“I just... ah... gets lonely after awhile,” Junkrat admitted when Roadhog thought they were just going to stay silent for a bit.  

 

“You know better than to tell an alpha that,” Roadhog told him, giving his jumping knee a nudge.  He pulled his mask up to drain the last of his drink, careful not to breathe in until it was back in place.

 

“Yeah? Well… you didn't force me during your rut,” Junkrat pointed out, beginning to fidget with everything on the table.  His leg ramped up its jiggling until Roadhog let out an annoyed grunt and put his hand on it.  Junkrat stilled and the most disgusting moan Roadhog had ever heard rolled out of his throat.

 

“Alright, go back upstairs before you flood the bar with slick,” Roadhog told Junkrat, nodding toward the stairs and standing so that he could get out. His palm tingled from touching Junkrat.

 

“What did I say about orders?” Junkrat asked with a scowl, but he was scooting over to stand, leaving a wet trail in his wake.

 

Roadhog stared down at Junkrat, his stomach flipping and flopping as he resisted the urge to slam him onto the table and fuck the look off his face.  It was only getting harder the longer the partnership went on.

 

“Do you want to go back to the room before you drip all over the place?” Roadhog asked, his words clipped and a growl in his chest.

 

“... Only because I want to,” Junkrat told him.

 

“Sure, boss.”

 

Junkrat got a stupid look on his face and Roadhog had to nudge him to get him to snap out of it.

 

“It’s just the hormones,” he told him firmly.  He was reminding himself just as much as Junkrat.

 

Junkrat licked his lips and his eyes travelled all over Roadhog before he nodded and turned around to head for the stairs.

 

Roadhog grabbed his cage to adjust himself before following after Junkrat.  

 

There was a wolf whistle from the back of the bar.  Roadhog’s hand was on his hook before he knew it, and he dragged the offender toward him in silent rage.

 

Junkrat giggled behind him, and Roadhog felt his adrenaline spike as he wrapped his entire hand around the man’s throat and squeezed. The asshole’s eyes rolled back, and his hands stopped scrabbling at Roadhog’s wrist after a few seconds.  

 

“Let ‘im go, Hoggy,” Junkrat said, and it cut through Roadhog’s angry haze enough that he loosened his fingers.

 

Hoggy ?  Since when had Junkrat had a nickname for him?

 

The man slumped to the floor, unconscious but not dead, and the entire bar seemed to breathe again all at once.

 

Roadhog glanced around at them all, then snorted and turned to toss Junkrat over his shoulder for show.

 

Junkrat squawked, but didn't say anything the entire trip to their room, which was weird enough without his hard-on digging into Roadhog’s armpit.

 

When Roadhog tossed him onto the bed, he was flushed all over and staring up at Roadhog with need rather than hate, like he had during his first heat.

 

“I’m going to my room,” Roadhog told him firmly.  It was just the hormones.  It was just the hormones.

 

“Yeah, good,” Junkrat nodded quickly, too quickly, too much, but Roadhog took it and left.  

 

He could hear Junkrat through the wall that night, and through the next few days of his heat.  It was a relief when Junkrat came to his room clean, bright eyed, and ready to travel again.

 

Things were better.  Until a week later, when Roadhog’s rut came early and neither of them were ready for it.

 

If Roadhog could taste Junkrat during his first rut, he could feel him during his second.  Smooth, toned muscles against his palms, warm skin against his lips and tongue, his patchy, grody hair gripped hard between Roadhog’s fingers.  As soon as he realized what was happening, he sped them toward the nearest town, which ended up lacking an inn.  That was solved by evicting someone from their home.  Roadhog locked himself in the single bedroom and ignored Junkrat when he came knocking on the door.

 

He was probably just going to demand that Junkrat, as his boss, was supposed to get the bed and that he could beat it in the living room or something. Roadhog wasn't sure he could be face to face with Junkrat without overstepping the tenuous boundaries they had erected.  If he opened the door, he would do something both of them would regret.

 

Around sundown, something shuffled under the door, and Roadhog reluctantly hauled himself from the bed to investigate.  It was a bag of jerky and a crushed pack of crackers. They probably smelled like Junkrat.  Roadhog felt his cock spring back to life and groaned, stretching out on the floor as his stomach growled and his hand wrapped back around his prick.

 

“You okay, mate?” Junkrat asked through the door.

 

“Fine,” Roadhog lied between deep breaths.  He still had his mask on.  He was afraid if he smelled Junkrat, even outside of his heat, Roadhog would break through the door and shove Junkrat down--

 

He didn't want to fuck Junkrat and Junkrat didn't want to be fucked.

 

It was just the hormones.   Instincts .

 

“There’s water by the door,” Junkrat said.  

 

Roadhog heard him draw away, and then his uneven steps as he moved across the living space.

 

Roadhog’s hand stilled and he stared at the door with a furrowed brow, his erection flagged, but it was because shame was flooding him, making him unable to be happy about it.   He was the alpha .   He was supposed to be taking care of Junkrat .   Him.

 

He growled at himself and grabbed the bag of jerky.  Instincts were a goddamned bitch.  He waited barely five minutes before he opened the door to grab the water.  He didn't have enough sense to pull his mask down or his pants up, and the look on Junkrat’s face from the couch and the smell of him just made everything a hundred times worse before Roadhog slammed the door and retreated to the bed, stiff again and desperate for something other than his own hand.

 

Three days later, they were on the road again.  Junkrat was strangely silent, and Roadhog was more than willing to let him stay that way.

 

Between cycles, things slowly became fine .  Junkrat got out of whatever had been up his ass and became a chatterbox that he insisted he had always been.  Nearly all the distrust he’d had when they initially started working together was gone.  He only took the dirt baths when he was genuinely getting funky or before they arrived somewhere with a population.  For Roadhog, his regular scent faded into the background, just another part of him when he wasn't in heat.

 

Unfortunately, Roadhog’s ruts were becoming less predictable, and Junkrat’s heat had started sticking to him.  It was heavy,  reeked of desperation, and stayed inside his mask for weeks.

 

He was still smelling it when they stopped for another of Junkrat’s heats.  With a day to spare, Roadhog figured that they could wind down before Junkrat’s heat kicked his paranoia back up to a 15.

 

His rut came in the middle of them settling into their rooms.

 

Roadhog sat on his bed with a groan and started unbuckling all of his armor in preparation for locking himself in his room for the next few days.  

 

“Roadie?”

 

Roadhog looked up from removing his grill before he started to get uncomfortable.  

 

Junkrat looked concerned.  Roadhog was just glad that he couldn't smell it, though each masked breath brought the fading scent of Junkrat’s last heat with it.  If he smelled Junkrat’s actual heat coming on, he… shit, he didn't even want to think about ruining the tentatively positive upturn to their partnership.

 

“I’m fine.  We’ll still eat and drink downstairs tonight,” Roadhog told him, not about to let him go down there alone.  Telling Junkrat to stay in his room was a quick ticket to getting bitched out.

 

“My heat is soon,” Junkrat reminded him, as if it wasn't at the forefront of Roadhog’s mind already.  Their cycles had converged.  This was the worst fucking job he’d ever taken.

 

“I know.  You’ll be fine,” Roadhog told him.

 

“Does it make it easier?”  Junkrat asked.

 

“What?”

 

“Fucking.  Does it make the heat easier?” Junkrat had his arms crossed.  He was chewing on his lip and Roadhog didn't like the look in his eyes.

 

“Listen, it’s just the hormones,” he said, his voice rough and his hands clenched into fists at his sides.  “You don't want to fuck me, and I don't want--”

 

“Does it.  Make.  It easier?”  Junkrat bit out angrily, cutting Roadhog off.

 

If he had been anyone else, Roadhog would have broken his nose for the interruption.

 

Roadhog felt his cock begin pressing against the cage and he quickly finished unbuckling the grill from his belt and shoved it toward the floor with a clang.  “Yeah, yeah it does, but--”

 

“But it makes it easier,” Junkrat said firmly.  

 

Roadhog wanted to shove him out the door and fucking lock it.  His resolve was crumbling and he knew where this was going, like watching a boat sink.  He couldn't do a thing to stop it.

 

“I think I’d be okay with it if it was you,” Junkrat admitted.  “If it makes it easier.  You said being around an omega makes your rut worse… I think…? And being around you, mate…” Junkrat shrugged and uncrossed his arms, then crossed them again.  “The heat is worse than torture around you.  I feel close to begging every time and I’m sick of holing up for it.”

 

Roadhog stared at Junkrat for a long time.  His cock strained against his pants and he felt like his hands were made of lead.  Junkrat wanted them to fuck through their cycles.

 

Fuck.

 

“Do you want to come back to my room once you’ve started your heat?” Roadhog asked, rather than give into the demand in the back of his head that wanted Junkrat on his knees right then, right there.

 

“Do you want me to?” Junkrat asked, his face slowly turning red, and it was ridiculous.  They were murderers and thieves and Junkrat was blushing about fucking sex.

 

“Yes.”  Roadhog hadn't meant for it to sound as clipped and desperate as it did, but it would be better than him jerking off for three days straight.  That’s what he told himself.

 

Junkrat nodded and held Roadhog’s gaze through smoked lenses.  “You still want to come downstairs with me?” he asked, looking hopeful.

 

“Yeah,” Roadhog grunted.  “Give me a tic and I'll take care of this,” he said, reaching for his duffle.

 

“C-can I--” Junkrat stuttered to a stop when Roadhog’s head snapped back up to focus on him.  

 

This omega was going to be the fucking death of him.  

 

Junkrat took a deep breath and let it out slowly.  “Before I’m fucking crazy with heat, and don't know what I want or don't want, I want to try… this ,” he said, obviously trying to be more helpful than before but he just didn't quite make it to where Roadhog could understand what the fuck was going on.

 

“Junkrat, just do what you usually do-- whatever you goddamned want,” Roadhog told him, his voice rough from frsutration.

 

Which was how he ended up with Junkrat between his knees and licking his cock like he’d been dreaming about it the past few months.

 

Roadhog kept his hands off Junkrat, instead settling for fisting them in the fabric of his pants and locking up stiff as a board for the entire blow job.

 

He came after only a few minutes, but it felt like forever when he wasn't controlling what was happening.  He wanted to grab Junkrat by the back of his hair and shove his cock down his throat.  He wanted to take what he needed and pick up the pieces after.

 

Junkrat made a disgusted noise when he got a mouth full of cum, and it made Roadhog laugh as he slowly unwound from how tense his sudden rut had made him.  

 

“What, you never tasted it before?” Roadhog asked, tucking himself back into his pants and slowly sitting up to watch Junkrat spit to the side.

 

“Not in a while,” Junkrat admitted with a grimace before he spit again and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.  “And never ‘cause I wanted to.”

 

Roadhog felt a mix of heavy sadness, hot, consuming anger and a flutter of something like guilt all at once in his gut.  “I’ll warn you next time,” he offered, sitting up more and wiping away the bits of spunk Junkrat had missed on his cheek and chin.

 

“Sure,” Junkrat agreed, using Roadhog’s knee to stand.  “Let’s go see if we can get through a meal before your cock comes back up.”

 

Roadhog grunted his agreement and stood to follow Junkrat through the door.  The omega was taking care of him again.  His instincts sang at the thought of finally being able to do the same for Junkrat.

 

If the betas didn't bother them before, they quickly found cause to leave when the smell of Roadhog’s rut filled the small bar.

 

By the time Roadhog had finished two sandwiches and half a dozen pints, he and Junkrat were practically alone aside from the bartender, an omega waitress, a scattering of betas very devotedly minding their own business, and an alpha, who appeared to have some sort of claim on the waitress by the way he watched her carefully every time she got near Junkrat and Roadhog.

 

Roadhog wanted to kill him for his obvious interest in them. He was just waiting for the man to make a wrong move, something his rut would consider a breach of unspoken rules and then he could murder him, sweep up Junkrat in his arms and hide away in his room for the next few days with him, remembering the warmth of blood on his knuckles and the sound of his last choked breath as he took care of his omega.

 

Since when had he started thinking of Junkrat as his ?

 

“I’m going back up,” Roadhog told Junkrat, hoping that he would go with him.  Hoping that the implied “come with me” wouldn't set Junkrat off.  He wasn't sure if he could take the humilation of being bad-mouthed while he was in rut, in front of another alpha, from an omega who had just sucked his cock not an hour ago.

 

Probably how he took everything-- badly.

 

“Sure,” Junkrat told him.  “Your door going to be unlocked?” he asked.

 

“Yeah,” Roadhog nodded and held the other alpha’s eye across the bar.  Make a move.  Make a--

 

Junkrat took Roadhog’s hand and started leading him to the stairs.  

 

Fuck.  How long had Roadhog stood there looking like an idiot?

 

He followed Junkrat’s insistent tugging, because it was the only thing that made sense beneath the fog of kill him and mine mine mine .  

 

Roadhog followed Junkrat into his room, where Junkrat disassembled the trap he’d set around the inside of the door and grabbed his other shit before nudging Roadhog back out and then toward his own room.  He stood in the middle of the room while Junkrat settled his pack of clothes next to Roadhog’s and then reset the trap at the door.  His fists were clenched tightly at his sides, everything inside him screaming to shove Junkrat down and take what was his--

 

Junkrat whirled around when Roadhog let out a low rumble.  He didn't back away, like Roadhog expected.  That would have been better; it would have made him feel guilty.  Instead, Junkrat just sneered at him and laughed.

 

“Keep your tits on, mate,” he told him, standing at his full height instead of hunching, focusing on Roadhog’s eyes instead of passively looking at his shoulder.  Everything about him was asking for Roadhog to put him in his place.

 

When Roadhog didn't immediately grab him, Junkrat shuffled closer and reached up to fiddle with the buckles of Roadhog’s mask.  “You gonna be alright with this off?” Junkrat asked, his voice wary.

 

Roadhog shrugged.  His hands were drawn to Junkrat’s thin waist like a magnet, uncurling his clenched fingers to touch warm, gritty skin.  It felt like a drink of water on a hot day.

 

“You’re… you're right gentle, ain't you?” Junkrat said, looking torn between sneering and snapping at Roadhog and allowing the contact to continue.

 

Roadhog rubbed his thumbs along Junkrat’s stomach and grunted in response.  It wasn't in an alpha’s nature to be a violent piece of shit.  It was instinctive to care for and nurture their omega.  The violence usually came from repression.  Too many ruts with only a rough hand wrapped around their prick.

 

He could already imagine his cock pressing against Junkrat’s stomach, making a bump with every thrust in.

 

“Holy shit,” Junkrat grimaced and finally pulled Roadhog’s mask off.

 

The smell of his own rut hit Roadhog like a slap in the face.  He wanted Junkrat.  He was hard to the point that his cock was pressing painfully into the grill, but he wasn't about to take his hands off Junkrat.  There wasn't a force in the world that could convince him to do that.

 

“The cage,” Roadhog rumbled, pleaded, as he dipped his head to press his face against Junkrat’s neck.  He smelled so good .

 

Junkrat laughed nervously and tried to squirm his neck away from Roadhog’s tickling breaths, but he held him still and continued nuzzling.

 

Junkrat undid his belt and the straps that held the grill in place fell away.  Roadhog had started kissing, licking and sucking at Junkrat’s skin, which made him giggle higher, more on edge.

 

His scent, faint in the face of Roadhog’s rut, was laced with uncertainty, and a little panic.

 

Roadhog sucked a mark into the side of Junkrat’s neck before drawing back and fumbling at the straps on his harness.

 

“Leave it,” Junkrat snapped, slapping at Roadhog’s hands.

 

Roadhog looked up from undoing a buckle to see Junkrat watching him, his eyes wide and his jaw tight.

 

He pressed a kiss to Junkrat’s forehead before letting go of the buckle and nodding.  He wasn't comfortable just yet.  Roadhog would wait for it.

 

Junkrat nodded at the bed and said, with some measure of that same haughty authority that they had started out with, “sit.”

 

Roadhog moved to obey, his hands jumping to undo his pants as his cock strained at the front seam.  He felt like his rut would be easier with Junkrat just standing there, watching him.  

 

“You ain't gonna fuck me until I’m in heat,” Junkrat told him, stepping forward to shove Roadhog’s hands to the side and crawling up to straddle Roadhog’s lap.

 

“Sure,” Roadhog agreed, rolling his hips up against Junkrat’s tented pants with a groan.  “Whatever you say, boss.”

 

“You ain't gonna knot me,” Junkrat added, his hands undoing his pants quickly, shoving them open to press their pricks together, and even though his was much thinner than Roadhog’s, it was a wonderful feeling to have a warm, half-hard cock against his own.

 

“Alright,” Roadhog mumbled, pressing his face against Junkrat’s neck again and scraping his teeth along the soft skin.

 

“Don't you fucking bite me either.  You can suck all you want, but don't you fucking dare mark me.  Got it?”  Junkrat said, his firm voice wavering when Roadhog ran the flat of his tongue from the hollow of Junkrat’s throat all the way up to where his ear joined his jaw.

 

“No knotting, no mating,” Roadhog groaned, his hips bucking up against Junkrat’s cock.  “We’re just fucking,” he mumbled, his arms wrapping around Junkrat as his hips continued to lurch up.

 

Junkrat surprised a moan out of him when he ground down against Roadhog and wrapped his arms around his neck to keep his balance.

 

“Yeah,” Junkrat whispered.  “Yeah, we’re just fucking.  Fuck.  You’re gonna feel so good, ain't ya?” he whispered against Roadhog’s temple as he continued to suck and lick Junkrat’s neck and throat.

 

“I’m going to make you want to mate me,” Roadhog growled, continuing to buck up against Junkrat and feeling his knot begin to swell.  

 

“Fuck off,” Junkrat said, but it was punctuated by a cackle.  “I don't belong to anyone,” he said firmly, wrapping his long fingers around their cocks and beginning to jerk them.  Junkrat came first.  Roadhog laid back and took over jerking himself, Junkrat sliding off Roadhog to lay on his side and watch him through hooded lids.

 

Roadhog gasped and groaned, the smell of Junkrat’s sweat and spunk helping him along until he came across his wrist and thigh. His knot swelled against his fist and he shifted his hand down to squeeze it, beginning to pull at the base of the knot desperately.  Soft, nearly silent moans left him as he jerked his knot and tried to imagine a slick ring of muscle clenching around it.  That usually cinched it for him, but it wasn't until long, thin fingers slipped beneath his own that he finally came again, come gushing onto the mattress between his legs and coating Junkrat’s fingers in thick ropes of spunk.

 

Junkrat hadn't even been touching him to get him off, his fingers had been more curious, probing and wrapping.  He’d given the knot a heft to feel the weight of it, and then a squeeze, and Roadhog was done.

 

“Thanks,” Roadhog grunted, turning his head to look at Junkrat and smirking at his grimace as he wiped his hand on the sheets.  “Thought you didn't mind a little dirt.”

 

“Dirt’s fine, that was spunk.  A lot of it,” Junkrat pointed out, examining his cleanish fingers and then pillowing his head on both hands.

 

“We tend to do that.” Roadhog snorted and ignored the urge to touch Junkrat.  That would come later.  For now, he was going to get some sleep, conserve his energy.

 

“Hey, Hoggy?” Junkrat said softly, pulling Roadhog back from the brink of sleep.

 

He grunted in response.

 

“Don't knot me,” he told him, his tone firm.

 

“I won't,” Roadhog agreed, raising his hand to reach over and give Junkrat a reassuring pat.  His hand ended up resting on Junkrat’s stomach as he fell asleep.

 

Roadhog awoke to the sound of whimpering.  When he drew in a deep breath, Junkrat’s heat hit him like a kick in the balls.  He opened his eyes and looked down to see that Junkrat had shed his arm and leg and was twisted around, fingering himself.  His hand was slick and shiny all the way up to his wrist.

 

“Roadhog…” Junkrat panted when he felt the shift of the bed.  He looked up at Roadhog, his eyes big and shining in the moonlight filtering through the window.  “Fuck me… please…” he whimpered, shifting closer and drawing his slick hand from his entrance to touch Roadhog’s arm.

 

Roadhog rolled over, his cock already awake enough that it wouldn't fit inside Junkrat without several minutes of preparation.  

 

He pressed Junkrat down with his stomach against Junkrat’s back and worked his hand between them to press a finger into Junkrat.  Soon, two easily slipped in, and then a third followed more quickly than Roadhog had expected.

 

“How long were you fucking yourself?” Roadhog rumbled, withdrawing his fingers and using Junkrat’s slick to coat his cock.

 

“D-don't…” Junkrat whined when Roadhog pressed the head of his cock against his entrance.

 

Roadhog paused and, instead of pressing into Junkrat and drilling him through the mattress, he slid his slick cock between Junkrat’s slick thighs.

 

“You don't like dirty talk?” He asked, pressing a sucking kiss to Junkrat’s shoulder.

 

“Not that,” Junkrat groaned, and then he was shifting and flailing and Roadhog backed off before he got a foot to his cock or an elbow in his chin.

 

“I don’t like it from behind,” he said, once he had settled in front of Roadhog and spread his thighs wide.

 

“I won't, then,” Roadhog replied, giving Junkrat’s thigh a squeeze before dragging him up into his lap and holding his hips with a bruising grip.  “I’ll fuck you just like this,” he said, his voice a low rumble.  “And next time, you’ll ride me, then the time after that…” he trailed off in a low groan as he slowly sank into Junkrat’s slick heat, a satisfaction that his hand couldn't give washing through him and drawing his hips back for another thrust.

 

The next two and a half days were a blur of sex and sleep punctuated by too few meals and Roadhog trying to keep Junkrat hydrated between fucks.

 

Roadhog’s rut ended a few hours before Junkrat’s heat, so instead of fucking him raw for the umpteenth time, he did something that most people would consider nice .  But it wasn't.  It was just something he liked to do with a begging, dripping cunt and a little time on his hands.

 

He knelt at the edge of the bed and dragged Junkrat’s hips down toward him.  The idiot curled himself up, whining about not wanting a blowjob.  He wanted Roadhog to fuck him.  Wanted him inside , damnit.

 

Roadhog rolled his eyes and spread Junkrat’s thighs before leaning down to gently lick and suck his hole.  

 

Junkrat’s entire body shivered and shook as Roadhog lapped at Junkrat’s raw entrance.  Roadhog held him still with his hands on his legs and pressed his tongue into him when the begging got too annoying.  His thrusting drew out choking gasps from Junkrat’s ravaged throat, and Roadhog vaguely remembered him swallowing Roadhog’s cock all the way down at least twice.

 

Once Junkrat could keep his legs spread on his own, Roadhog pulled his hands back and joined his tongue with a single thick finger.  Junkrat was still loose from all the use Roadhog had made of him and he soon pressed a second finger in, then a third, and drew his face back, his chin and lips wet with Junkrat’s fragrant slick.

 

“You smell disgusting, you know that?” Roadhog told him, thrusting his fingers in and out in slow, exaggerated movements that had Junkrat whimpering and clawing at the tacky sheet.  “I bet the entire inn can smell you, it’s going to smell like desperate omega here for months .”

 

Junkrat shivered and bucked his hips, trying to get off on Roadhog’s fingers faster, but he just stopped moving his fingers entirely and let Junkrat fuck himself if he was so needy.  Junkrat eventually stilled with a whine, slapping his hand against the mattress angrily before reaching for his cock.  

 

Roadhog caught his hand and gripped Junkrat’s wrist firmly in his slick fingers.  

 

“They’ll have to hike up the price on this room,” he rumbled, taking back over with his left hand and slowly building back from one finger to two.  “They could charge alphas a fortune to just sit in your stink and beat off.”

 

Junkrat moaned and his hand fought Roadhog’s grip.  “Yeah?  Who’d pay for that?” he gasped.  It was chased with a mix between a cackle and a sob.

 

Roadhog released Junkrat’s wrist to wrap his still-slick hand around Junkrat’s weeping cock.  “I would,” he rumbled before passing his tongue over Junkrat’s salty inner thigh.

 

Junkrat came across his own stomach, Roadhog’s hand squeezing and pulling until he was nothing more than a shivering, gasping mess.

 

Roadhog pulled his fingers free and stood, feeling a swell of affection and pride as he watched Junkrat pant and twitch on the bed.  He let the traitorous thoughts happen. Just this once.

 

His omega, his groaning mess.

 

In reality, they would reach Junkrat’s treasure in a few weeks, then he would take his half and fuck off.

 

He didn't feel any kind of way about it.  It was what would happen.  What had to be done.  But for now, he could allow himself to want.

 

Roadhog left Junkrat on the bed to grab a wet rag and fill a canteen for him.  His hard-on bobbed beneath his stomach, but he ignored it for the moment.  He was an alpha prioritizing his omega.  For just a moment, Junkrat-- unmated, unknotted and unbitten-- was his to take care of outside of his rut.

 

When he came back, Junkrat was staring at the ceiling and tracing his fingers over the raw love bites Roadhog had left on his inner thighs the previous night.  

 

“Roll over,” Roadhog rumbled, setting the canteen next to Junkrat and waiting for him to comply.

 

Junkrat had almost completely rolled over before he rolled onto his back again and glared at Roadhog.  “Orders,” he said sharply for the first time in days.

 

“Roll.  Over,” Roadhog replied sternly.

 

Junkrat glared up at him.

 

Roadhof felt his hard-on twitch as the urge to fuck Junkrat into his place swelled just below his navel.

 

“I'm going to clean you up and put something on your cunt so it doesn't hurt as much,” Roadhog told him.

 

“Yeah, your cock says the same thing,” Junkrat pointed out with a sneer.

 

“If I wanted to fuck you, I would have done it while you were begging me to,” Roadhog replied, grabbing Junkrat’s leg and beginning to clean him, starting from his foot.  It was only half a lie.  He wanted to, but he wasn't desperate to move within the omega anymore.  It was just the hollow want of a hard prick; it wasn't fanned by the rut. It would go away if Junkrat stopped making his instincts flare up.

 

Junkrat jerked his foot away and dug his heel into Roadhog’s chest.  “Fuck off,” he told him.

 

Roadhog glowered and wrapped his fingers around Junkrat’s leg firmly, his massive hand easily allowing his thumb to meet his index finger around Junkrat’s calf.

 

“Stay still,” Roadhog said firmly before resuming wiping Junkrat down.

 

Junkrat struggled and whined, but ultimately, he was too tired to put up a proper fight.

 

Roadhog was tempted to kiss Junkrat as he cleaned him, wondering if it would at least placate him and make him drop his crossed arms and his pout.   It would be too much, though.  It might make him think he cared further than just being an alpha cleaning up after a fuck.

 

Roadhog got Junkrat’s front cleaned well enough before he left to rinse the rag and rewet it.  When he returned, Junkrat was stretched out on his stomach, hugging the thin, shitty pillow and with his legs clamped shut.

 

Roadhog massaged with thick, gentle fingers up from Junkrat’s clean legs to his red, overused ass cheeks.  

 

“I'm just cleaning,” Roadhog assured him, carefully sliding the wet cloth against one of Junkrat’s raw cheeks.

 

Junkrat’s legs parted with a sticky sound similar to a zipper, and it made Roadhog wrinkle his nose as he began scrubbing away several days worth of slick and come.  

 

As Roadhog worked, Junkrat finally took up the canteen and drank, starting out in little swallows, but soon he was twisting to drink greedily from the canteen.  Roadhog paused and let him, smoothing his hands over Junkrat’s clean thighs and bony hips, losing himself in thought and the rhythm of petting Junkrat.

 

Junkrat finally pulled away from the canteen with a gasp and let the empty hunk of plastic fall to the bed before he turned over again.

 

Roadhog shifted to kneel on the bed between Junkrat’s legs and resumed cleaning him up.

 

“Is this how all alphas are supposed to be?” Junkrat asked, a fresh gush of slick ruining Roadhog’s efforts to clean around his entrance and soaking the sheet and mattress.

 

Roadhog left to get a towel to put beneath his hips, then resumed cleaning Junkrat’s ass and back.  “All alphas are different,” Roadhog said after a long while of just running the cool, wet cloth over his skin.

 

Junkrat snickered mirthlessly.  “Why ain't you settled down with some sappy cunt?” he asked.  “You’d be a good mate.”

 

Roadhog shrugged and finished cleaning up Junkrat’s ass and legs before leaving to rinse the rag again. He came back to wipe the sweat and grime off Junkrat’s back and gave his hair a damp tousle.

 

There was some multi-purpose creme in their first aid kit.  Roadhog put a thick layer of it on Junkrat’s ass and around his entrance, ignoring his not-at-all subtle invitations to “stick it in.”

 

Once Junkrat was cleaned up, Roadhog wiped himself of, then moved to lie in the bed, nudging Junkrat over to give him room.

 

Instead of scooting to the edge of the bed and keeping any amount of space between them, Junkrat draped his torso over Roadhog’s stomach and stared up at him expectantly.

 

“There aren't many omegas left in Oz,” Roadhog said, after a long space of silence.  “And those that are…” He hesitated and glanced at Junkrat.  “Settling down isn't something I’ve been looking for,” he said finally.

 

“Not the mating type?” Junkrat asked, sticking his nose into Roadhog’s business just a little farther than he was comfortable with.

 

“Just shut up and go to sleep,” Roadhog told him, laying his head back and closing his eyes with a sigh.  

 

There was silence for a second, then Junkrat started muttering about Roadhog telling him what to do and how big of a cunt he was.

 

Roadhog fell asleep to the sound, a small smile on his lips as Junkrat’s warm weight persisted on his stomach.

 

The last two weeks of the job were almost too easy.  Too nice.  Too warm and too close to what would be considered friendly.  

 

The only herald of the changing seasons was the nights getting colder.  Junkrat didn't ask if he could sleep curled up against Roadhog, and Roadhog didn't tell him he couldn't.  It just happened, and it felt right.

 

Junkrat chattered constantly and Roadhog replied more often than not.  Junkrat hung off of him and leaned against him, dug his knobby elbow into Roadhog’s ribs when he told a joke and was trying to force a laugh out of him.  Roadhog even told Junkrat a few jokes just to hear his delighted giggle.  No matter how obvious or corny they were, Junkrat acted like Roadhog’s jokes were the top shelf of humor.

 

It all made the last leg of the journey go by quickly and pleasantly, but once they had reached the treasure, dug it up and split it, something clicked in both of their brains that that was that.

 

They were free to go their separate ways, but neither of them wanted to, and neither of them was going to say it aloud.