As a general rule, McCree didn’t get involved with other demons, either romantically or platonically. He found most of them were incredibly selfish, and would use you just like they would use a human, or attempt to kill you for being in their “territory”.
He doesn’t remember when, exactly he became a demon; when he’d gotten picked up by Reyes and Blackwatch, he’d been a fifty year old demon in a teenagers body, rambling from town to town, trying to find a place for him to fit in. He hadn’t been raised in demon culture, or if he had, he didn’t remember. He’d opened his eyes one morning, in a burnt out shell of a building, naked and hungry, and he’d been wandering ever since.
Blackwatch had given him a better grasp of his powers than Deadlock ever had; he learned the limits of his body, the near-indestructibility of himself, the ability to shoot the soul right out of a man. He only had to look a man in the eye, and he was a dead man.
But back to the point. McCree made it a point to avoid other demons; ones that remembered their childhood were pushy, territorial, and generally too much trouble to deal with. So when he felt an immediate attraction to Hanzo Shimada, and his curved horns, blue skin, and white, white eyes. He was flaunting his looks, unrepentant, staring the human members down with his too-white eyes.
He had joined the recalled Overwatch at his brother’s behest, but even Genji seemed intimidated by his appearance.
When McCree got close enough to catch scent of the other demon, oh. He smelled faintly of sulphur, but mostly of just-bloomed cherry blossoms, and the sweet scent of sake, and it was a smell that drew McCree in like a moth to the flame.
Without even realizing he was doing it, McCree followed Hanzo at a distance after the introductions were made and the other members of the recalled Overwatch had dispersed. His head was filled with Hanzo’s sweet scent, his teeth heavy in his mouth and focused entirely on getting closer.
He was so intent on his goal that he didn’t realize Hanzo had doubled back on him until he was being slammed into a wall, breath knocked out of him. It was enough force to wind a human, maybe bruise a little, but nowhere near the force needed to hurt Jesse. He noted that in the back of his mind, eyes flicking up to stare into Hanzo’s snarling face. He thought vaguely that he had never seen someone more beautiful.
“Why are you following me? Are you not afraid of me?” Hanzo snarled, and though sharp claws were inches from his throat, and there was the very real possibility that Hanzo could do real damage to him, McCree could only be aroused.
A slow, sugary grin spread across his face as he licked his lips. He noted that Hanzo was slightly shorter than him, but was also seeming to tower over him.
“Of course not, darlin’,” he drawled, letting the blackness of his demonic power slide over his eyes, and when he spoke next, it was with the two-toned voice most people only heard before dying. “In fact, I think you and I ain’t too different.”
Hanzo’s face went slack in shock, for a moment, before his face drew up in a sneer. “I am nothing like you.”
“You’re a damn sight prettier than I am, that’s for sure,” McCree purred, and that seemed to rock Hanzo’s veneer of disgust, shock once against crossing his face. The blue of his cheeks darkened slightly, a blush, and his grip slackened slightly.
McCree wasn’t a man to miss opportunities, and he switched their positions, slamming Hanzo up against the concrete wall instead, being a mite gentler with the smaller demon than he had been with Jesse. He insinuated a thigh between Hanzo’s, ducking down to run his nose along the demon’s pulse point, inhaling more of that sticky-sweet scent and shuddering.
“I ain’t ever met another demon that smelled as good as you,” McCree growled, feeling his teeth sharpen in his mouth, his shoulders stretching out his shirt too far as he lost his grip on himself. “God, I want you,” he groaned, licking across that pulsepoint, feeling Hanzo’s heart hammering against it frantically.
“God does not exist,” Hanzo sneered, his voice high and tight as he spread his legs slightly, allowing McCree further into his space. He made a soft, pitched noise when McCree’s teeth closed over his jugular, the sharp points pricking tough, impossibly soft skin, not enough to pierce but just enough to leave the skin reddened.
“Maybe not,” McCree said softly as he kissed up Hanzo’s throat and jaw, his lips inches from the other demon’s as he looked into those glowing eyes. “But I sure have found heaven today,” he murmured, before taking Hanzo’s mouth in a kiss, fangs clacking together almost painfully. A long, mobile tongue swirled against his, and Hanzo finally seemed to remember that he had hands, grabbing fistfulls of McCree’s ass to bring their groins closer together.
McCree found himself groaning, grinding into Hanzo’s heat, the taste and smell and feel of him nearly overwhelming. He was close to coming in his pants like a fucking teenager, for Chrissake.
His world tilted, and he found himself being slammed into a hard surface again -the ground- this time with enough force to really hurt, his ribs creaking in protest as a booted foot pressed down on his chest. He stared up at Hanzo dumbly, still hard in his pants, his mind still on cloud nine from all the kissing.
“You have not proved yourself, to be allowed to touch me so,” Hanzo snarled, though he was still visibly flushed. He turned on heel, vanishing around a corner, and McCree felt himself grinning.
“Oh darlin’, ” he sighed, hand over his heart. “This’ll be fun.”