In retrospect, Hanzo figured that all this was punishment for looking at porn when he should have been grading.
He’d thought that the actor’s face looked familiar: the perpetual scruff, the tousled brown hair, the sun-kissed copper of his skin. Maybe it had taken him a second to recognize who it was because, absent his cowboy boots, hat, and serape and dressed only in scanty leathers instead, he could have passed for someone else. But once he realized who it was, the horror of discovery combined with the thrill of scandal kept his eyes glued to the screen.
McCree. Jesse McCree, member of his cohort and fellow advisee under Professor Reyes, was definitely and undoubtedly in a gay porn flick.
He should have closed the tab. He should have at least stopped watching. But all he could do was stare as Jesse swallowed down a thick cock and came up for air seconds later with a massive grin on his face, stare as Jesse moaned, face blissed out with pleasure as he arched his back, a muscular man pounding him in the ass.
God. God. The video had ended a while ago, but Hanzo’s heart was still racing, his hands were still clutching at the arms of his chair, and his hard-on was still tenting painfully against his slacks.
It was already 10pm. He had thirty quizzes left to grade and recitation to lead at 9am the next day. He should have shut off his laptop and gotten to work, or maybe gone outside for a breath of fresh air to cool himself down before returning to his desk.
Instead, he unbuckled his belt, palmed his cock, and pressed play again.
So he started spending a lot more time in Wilson Library and Davis. He knew that, when Jesse wasn’t in their office, he preferred to work in Graham Memorial—it was cozier, Jesse said, and it was also one of the only places on campus where it was acceptable to nap. Hanzo lived just a few blocks from Franklin Street—it was noisy, but he’d found an affordable spot and liked that he could walk to campus—whereas Jesse lived far enough away that it wouldn’t be feasible for him to take the bus home and back just for a midday nap.
Hanzo managed to avoid Jesse for almost a month that way, calling out sick when they were scheduled to have their advisee meeting and emailing Professor Reyes his notes instead. But when you’re a grad student, even a campus as large as Carolina’s gets reduced to just your office, the libraries, and a couple classrooms. It was inevitable that he’d run into Jesse again.
Hanzo had left his copy of Mesthrie et al.’s Introducing Sociolinguistics in the office and needed to retrieve it before finalizing his lessons and assignments for the next week. He beelined to his desk, finger running along the spines on his shelf, and didn’t notice that Jesse was in until it was too late.
Hanzo froze. He’d always liked Jesse’s rich, soothing voice, but knowing now what other filthy sounds Jesse could make had his skin prickling with goosebumps. Polite social norms dictated that he should turn and greet Jesse as well, perhaps with a smile and definitely with eye contact, but Hanzo found that his body wouldn’t move.
Footsteps. Jesse had stood and come closer. Hanzo pulled Introducing Sociolinguistics from the shelf and clutched it to his chest, desperate for a barrier between himself and Jesse. When he whirled around, he found Jesse just this side of too close, every detail of him real and solid in a way that 1080p video couldn’t capture.
“Hi,” he said, then added, his voice dying in his throat, “Jesse. Um. How are you?”
“I’m fine,” Jesse said. He was dressed in a less outlandish outfit today: red flannel and jeans, although he was still sporting his ridiculous BAMF belt buckle. He wasn’t wearing a hat today; instead, he had his hair tied in the tiniest of ponytails. Hanzo’s breath caught in his chest. He willed himself not to blush, but he wasn’t sure if that was something he could control with conscious effort.
“Good,” Hanzo said. “That’s. That’s good.”
Jesse hooked his thumbs in his pockets and shifted his weight to one foot. God, did he know how attractive he was? Probably, if he was willing to fuck in front of a camera. But was he conscious of it; was he trying to be this hot right now, or was this really that effortless for him?
“Listen,” Jesse said, biting his lip, and Hanzo’s mind flashed to the image of Jesse doing the same as he was being fucked, as he had someone’s teeth on his neck, and God he couldn’t look Jesse in the eye. “Did I do something wrong? It’s just that you’ve been avoiding me, and I’ve been wracking my brains trying to figure out why; was it something I said?”
Hanzo couldn’t breathe. This close, he could smell Jesse’s aftershave, the soft scent of him; as Jesse tilted his head, Hanzo couldn’t help but stare at the long line of his neck, the curve of his throat. He knew what this man looked like naked. He knew what he looked like when he came.
“I…” Hanzo began, then stopped. He was a linguist and had completely forgotten how to string together a coherent sentence. He cleared his throat. “I…”
“You ain’t going to hurt my feelings,” Jesse said, almost pleadingly. And that edge of his voice, that tone that had Hanzo recalling Jesse begging yes sir, please, I want it, undid him.
“I found your shoots. Online. Your. Adult films,” Hanzo said, words coming out in breathless bursts. He immediately regretted opening his mouth. He should have made something up, said he hadn’t been feeling well, and spared himself the mortification of Jesse’s blank stare.
The silence stretched on for too long between them. Part of Hanzo was yelling at him to run, but the rest of him was rooted to the spot, unable to escape Jesse’s gaze.
“And?” Jesse said at last.
“And… and what?”
A slow, shit-eating grin spread across Jesse’s face.
“Did you like them?”
Hanzo opened his mouth, then closed it again. What was he supposed to say? It felt impossible to lie under Jesse’s scrutiny, to either say that he hadn’t watched the shoot or that it didn’t do it for him. The train had already derailed, and there wasn’t any saving this wreck.
So he told the truth.
“Yeah, I… your shoots, they were… hot. Really hot.”
Hanzo had never been religious in a Christian sense, but at that moment, he wished for God to strike him dead on the spot.
“So,” Jesse said, shifting his weight to his other foot, his grin unfaltering. “You’re... what? Gay? Bi? Curious?”
Hanzo was pretty sure he’d forgotten how to breathe. He felt as if his entire being were screaming, as if he were clawing at the air, ready to burst from his skin with embarrassment.
“I…” Hanzo said, his voice coming out hoarse, “need to get to class.”
He turned and fled before he could see Jesse’s reaction.
The worst part was that Hanzo couldn’t stop himself from going through as much of Jesse’s back catalog as he could find. Beyond his attractiveness, there was a genuine enthusiasm to the way he performed, a sense that he was enjoying himself. He’d never asked Jesse why he got into porn—hell, they were both grad students; he knew the feeling of being broke as fuck—but he got the sense that it wasn’t just for the money. The man could spark chemistry with a rock, and even the cheesy twang of western music in the cowboy porn Jesse had starred in couldn’t dampen the sensations thrumming through Hanzo.
Hanzo had his favorite scenes, of course. The one with Jesse hogtied and blindfolded. The one with Jesse on his knees, his expression lustful and defiant even as he had a cock in his mouth. And the one he kept returning to again and again: the one with Jesse spread-eagled, shackled to a St. Andrew’s cross, an Asian man flogging him with a cat-o’-nine-tails, dominating him as Jesse begged for more.
It fascinated Hanzo. Enraptured him, even. It wasn’t that he’d never seen men like him in porn before—it was more that, when he did, they were so often submissive, so often fetishized, their Asianness called out even in the fantasy of porn. To be allowed to dominate—to be allowed to simply exist as both an object and purveyor of desire, as a figure who could control without relying on fucked-up racial politics like he’d seen so many times before both in porn and in his own life—it was a heady feeling, the high of the impossible made real.
He wondered if Jesse saw him in that way, as a possibility instead of a stereotype, if he didn’t have to play up his differences to attract Jesse’s attention. He’d had it worse in undergrad, when he hadn’t yet learned what it meant to be marginalized: when he’d taken the catcalls of “nihao” and “konnichiwa” as compliments, when he’d taken the comments about having a small cock as a challenge to disprove. He wanted to say that his current dry spell was because grad school was keeping him too busy to date, but the reality was that he’d been burned too often to take the risk as freely as he did before.
And who knew if Jesse was even into him that way. He probably just liked getting a rise out of him.
Hanzo closed his eyes. He was in the office now, a pile of homework assignments stacked beside an even larger pile of exams that he had yet to grade. He had sympathy for the undergrads, but midterms were hell on him, too. He’d planned to leave campus by six and make a quick dinner for himself before getting back to work, but it was already eight and he didn’t feel like leaving with so little progress made.
He wasn’t sure when he fell asleep. He woke up with the corner of a textbook digging into his hands and something draped around him—something warm, soft, gently scented with a familiar cologne, and obnoxiously Carolina blue.
He tugged the fabric from around his shoulders. Only one person was gauche enough to take a serape like this out in public and, as Hanzo blinked and looked around the office, the sleep still in his eyes, he found that that person wasn’t there.
Hanzo told himself that the reason why he took the serape home with him instead of leaving it on Jesse’s desk was that it was cold outside and he’d forgotten his coat. He didn’t even try to explain to himself why he fell asleep later with the serape still soft against his fingertips.
Either way, Hanzo had had to turn down the last three of Jesse’s invitations to social events, and he figured he should probably hang out at least once this semester before he became the class hermit. Watching the Carolina–Duke Final Four match with other people would be fairly chill, and he could always bail if things got awkward.
He’d stopped by Harris Teeter to grab a six-pack of IPA—if anything, the standard IPA joke at a party with linguists would be enough to break the ice and start a conversation—and got to the bus stop just in time to see the bus pulling away.
“Fuck,” Hanzo said. He checked his watch. He’d already been running about fifteen minutes late, and the next bus probably wasn’t going to get there for another twenty minutes. He sighed and pulled out his phone to send a text to Jesse.
Running a little late. Be there soon.
Before he could even lock the screen, a reply came in.
no worries darlin, im saving a seat for u ;-*
Hanzo blushed furiously, tugged his scarf up over his cheeks, and glanced around to see if anyone at the bus stop had noticed how flustered he’d become. Thankfully, no one was paying him any attention. He refused to let himself dwell on Jesse’s use of a pet name or his emoticon choice, so he texted back the only reply he could think of.
Is your shift key broken?
Once again, the reply was immediate.
dont be prescriptivist
Hanzo scoffed, literally scoffed, as he read the text. As if he could. As if he would. He was a sociolinguist, for God’s sake; his whole deal was combatting prescriptivism in favor of descriptivism. He could text an essay back to Jesse and had started typing Actually when he decided to delete what he’d written in favor of a more succinct summary of his feelings.
Hanzo was, unsurprisingly, the last person to arrive at Jesse’s; there were already several empty beer bottles on the coffee table in the living room. Satya, who worked on proto-Indo-European, was curled up on one of the chairs; Sombra, who specialized in Chicanx English, was lounging on the couch next to her. The other two women introduced themselves as fellow residents in Jesse’s apartment complex: Mei, a climatology grad student, and Zarya, a sports medicine grad student; both of them also went to UNC.
“My other partner Jamie and Zarya’s other partner Reinhardt couldn’t make it tonight, but they say hi,” Mei said, her voice perky and cheerful. She was short and fat, a contrast to Zarya’s tall, built figure, but they seemed cozy as could be as they lounged together.
And, just as he promised, Jesse had an open seat beside him on the couch. The only seat open in the small room. Hanzo put down the six-pack of IPA and, praying that he wasn’t blushing, squeezed in beside Jesse. Their thighs were definitely pressed together, their shoulders occasionally bumping. Jesse was incredibly warm and, oh God, deep breaths; he could survive this.
“What did I miss?” Hanzo said, doing his best to focus on the TV and not on the fact that he would have to reach into Jesse’s lap to grab a handful of snacks from the bowl perched between Jesse’s thighs.
“Just us slaughtering Duke as usual,” Jesse replied. He had shaved today, Hanzo noticed; his facial hair was less unruly, more of an unfairly attractive five o’clock shadow. He wondered what it would feel like to run his fingers over the strong line of Jesse’s jaw. He turned his attention back to the television, doing his best to quell the sensations already beginning to thrum through him.
Zarya and Jesse were by far the most enthusiastic about the game, both of them constantly yelling, cheering, and pleading “come on, come on, come on!” Mei watched with interest, cheering and clapping, while Sombra and Satya chatted and paid little attention to what was going on on the TV. Hanzo didn’t know much about basketball except that most shots were worth two points; he tried to ignore Jesse jostling him as he cheered and nursed his beer quietly.
At a particularly spectacular three-point shot that swished as the halftime buzzer rang, Jesse stood and whooped, the bowl of snacks tumbling out of his lap and spilling over Hanzo’s.
It took Jesse a moment to notice the mess, at which point Hanzo had already started to scoop the snacks back into the bowl.
“Oh God, sorry about that,” Jesse said. He knelt to sweep the snacks on the floor together and toss them in the trash. Then, before Hanzo could react, Jesse started sweeping snacks off of Hanzo’s lap.
Hanzo froze and held his breath. He thanked God that he was wearing jeans made of a thicker material today and hoped that they would hide it if his body… reacted. His head felt like it was full of white noise, and he couldn’t for the life of him string together a protest. Jesse was saying something, an apology maybe, and Hanzo couldn’t tell if anyone was looking at them.
“I do have to say, though,” Jesse said, the words finally making their way through the fog clouding Hanzo’s brain, “you have some nice thighs, hun.”
Hanzo choked. Finally back in control of his body, he swatted Jesse with the cushion beside him and tried his best to nonchalantly put the cushion inconspicuously on his own lap. Jesse laughed and winked at Hanzo, who did his best not to respond beyond the blush already involuntarily creeping across his face. He pondered chugging the rest of his beer and blaming his redness on Asian glow, but he was sure that Mei at least would see through that.
Mei was the first to leave, apologizing as she gave Jesse a hug: “I wish I could stay longer, but I have a paper I have to work on—this was fun though!” Seeing their opportunity, Sombra and Satya also stood to leave; Sombra whispered something into Jesse’s ear as her eyes darted over to Hanzo. Jesse grinned as he gave her a playful shove.
“See ya, chico,” Sombra said, waving at Hanzo with a wicked smirk on her face. Oh God, Hanzo didn’t even want to know what she’d said. Satya’s expression was aloof as usual, but Hanzo swore a smile was kissing the curve of her lips.
Hanzo should have also gone at that point, but he found himself reluctant to, found himself loosening up and cheering with Jesse and Zarya as Carolina pulled back into the lead and widened their gap with Duke.
They were closing in on the last 90 seconds of the game. Zarya was on the edge of her seat, every muscle in her body tense; as the last ten seconds counted down, Jesse clung to whatever was closest to him, which happened to be Hanzo’s arm. Hanzo didn’t have the heart to pry him off, and part of him admitted that he was enjoying this.
When the final buzzer rang and the scoreboard flashed CAROLINA 98–DUKE 96, Jesse and Zarya both leapt up and cheered. Zarya pulled Jesse in and tousled his hair, clinking another bottle of beer with him as they both chugged them down; Hanzo smiled at them from his position on the couch.
“I should probably get back to Mei,” Zarya said, setting her empty bottle down. “She gets grumpy if I’m not there to snug her before bedtime.”
“Aww, y’all are sweeter than pie,” Jesse said. “Say hi to Rein for me, will you?”
“Sure thing,” Zarya said. She turned back to Hanzo and gave him a wave. “It was great meeting you, Hanzo.”
Which left just him and Jesse, who flopped back onto the couch and sprawled out, limbs long and loose. Hanzo hadn’t realized until now just how tipsy he was—not drunk, but comfortable enough to be slightly less of a tightass. He let himself relax into the couch a little, allowed his thigh to touch Jesse’s. They spent a few moments in awkward silence, Hanzo watching but not paying any attention as post-game commentary played.
“’S hot in here,” Jesse said after a while, undoing the top two buttons of his shirt. Hanzo’s mouth went dry as he watched Jesse’s fingers work, watched as he exposed a tiny sliver more of skin.
“Yeah,” Hanzo said, tearing his eyes away from Jesse and looking at his backpack instead. He unzipped it and rummaged around in it, then tugged out the obnoxiously Carolina blue serape. “I, um, wanted to give this back to you.”
“Oh, I was wondering where that’d gone,” Jesse said, sitting back up. He took the serape from Hanzo, their fingers touching; Hanzo’s breath hitched. He hoped Jesse hadn’t noticed, but of course he had. Jesse leaned in, the serape dropping from his grasp, his weight braced on his hands before him, his face so close to Hanzo’s.
“Hey,” Jesse said, grinning. “You wanna make out?”
Hanzo’s lips parted. That would be a bad idea, part of him said, but the rest of him, the part that had been coaxed into being less of a tightass, ignored it as he finally let himself fall into his desire.
“God yes,” he breathed.
Things escalated quickly from there.
Jesse closed the gap between them, his lips surprisingly soft and gentle; the kiss was tentative at first, making Hanzo’s whole body tighten with anticipation. Jesse’s hand came up to rub Hanzo’s undercut, then entwine into Hanzo’s ponytail; he tugged at Hanzo’s hair, tilting his head to the side and exposing his throat. He traced kisses down his neck and nipped at the sensitive skin there, drawing a groan from Hanzo.
“Been wanting to do that for ages,” Jesse murmured against Hanzo’s skin. He flicked his tongue against him, making Hanzo tremble.
“Yeah?” Hanzo said, his voice barely above a whisper.
“Yeah,” Jesse said, pressing more kisses to Hanzo’s neck. A sudden fire blazed through Hanzo along with the acceptance that this was really happening, that Jesse had initiated this, that Jesse wanted this, too. Hanzo growled and seized Jesse’s hair, pulling him up, baring his throat to him as Jesse gasped.
“Same,” Hanzo said. He sucked bruising kisses into Jesse’s neck as Jesse clung to him, his breaths coming out ragged.
“Please,” Jesse whined. Hanzo let go of his hair, tugged at the lobe of his ear with his teeth.
“Please what?” Hanzo murmured. Jesse turned his head and caught Hanzo’s lips in a kiss again, this one more desperate, rougher, harder. Jesse was rutting slowly against him now, as if trying not to and failing; Hanzo ran his hands down Jesse’s back and palmed his ass.
“Want you to fuck me,” Jesse gasped as he broke away from the kiss.
“How bad do you want it?”
Jesse groaned and grabbed Hanzo’s hand, placed it on his crotch where Hanzo could feel his cock straining hard against his pants. The touch sent a thrill through Hanzo, made his head spin with the knowledge that Jesse wanted him, that he’d done this to him.
“Mmm,” Hanzo hummed. He pulled Jesse in close again, nipping at his lower lip, kissing him fiercely until they were both breathless.
“Take off my shirt,” Hanzo murmured.
“Yessir,” Jesse said, and if Hanzo weren’t hard already, that soft affirmative would’ve done it. Jesse pulled back and unbuttoned Hanzo’s shirt, his fingers deft; he tugged it off, biting back a moan as he revealed Hanzo’s tattoo and the shape of his nipple jewelry outlined by his undershirt.
“Fuck, you never told me you had ink,” Jesse said. “You need to stop being such a nerd and wearing long sleeves all the time.”
“Hush,” Hanzo said. “Take my undershirt off too.”
For all his cockiness, Jesse was very good at taking directions. He pulled up the hem of Hanzo’s undershirt, biting his lip as he admired Hanzo’s chest; he scooted down and kissed Hanzo’s shoulder, traced his lips along the curve of the dragon wrapped around his arm, paused to skim over Hanzo’s nipple, the jewelry clacking against his teeth. He tugged at his nipple gently, and even that made Hanzo throw his head back, the sensation rushing through him.
“Fuck,” Hanzo breathed, letting his eyes fall closed. He thought his nipples weren’t all that sensitive, but Jesse was proving him wrong as he worked at one nipple with his mouth while pinching the other and letting the edge of his nails drag over it.
“What else do you have pierced?” Jesse said, pausing to rest his cheek on Hanzo’s chest and look up at him. God, even a tiny show of affection from this man could undo him.
“Find out for yourself,” Hanzo said.
“Will do,” Jesse said. He slid off the couch to get on his knees before Hanzo, his hands making quick work of Hanzo’s belt and undoing his zipper. Hanzo couldn’t help the smug smirk that spread across his face when Jesse gave an appreciative hum at the sight of his cock, jewelry glinting in the light: a Prince Albert and four frenum piercings.
“Well?” Hanzo said, making Jesse look up at him.
“Put that pretty mouth to work.”
“Bossy,” Jesse said, licking a long line up the underside of Hanzo’s cock, pausing to suckle gently at his frenulum before taking him into his mouth. It took all Hanzo had to not thrust into Jesse’s throat, even though he knew he could take it. Goddamn, watching Jesse do this to other people could already make his skin burn with want, but actually having Jesse’s mouth on him, swallowing him down, head bobbing with enthusiasm—it was enough to make him see stars, to have his whole body tense with pleasure.
Jesse came up again, flashed Hanzo that perfect shit-eating grin, then inhaled deeply and took the entire length of him into his mouth. He stayed there, throat constricting as he looked up at Hanzo, who bit his knuckles to keep from crying out. When Jesse finally came up again, his chest heaved as he gulped down air, pride glinting in his eyes.
“Fucking hell,” Hanzo said, grabbing a fistful of Jesse’s hair. “Is that the best you can do?”
“No sir,” Jesse said, still grinning.
“Show me,” Hanzo said, pushing Jesse back down onto his cock. He held him there, fighting the urge to fuck Jesse’s throat as Jesse swallowed around him, his eyes watering. Fuck. His breaths were coming out hot and heavy, all the more pleasurable in their loudness because he knew Jesse had no way of breathing around his cock.
Jesse tapped against Hanzo’s thigh and Hanzo pulled Jesse up so that his back was arched, his chest thrust out prettily as he gasped for air, lips shining with spit.
“Such a good boy,” Hanzo murmured. With his free hand, he tugged at Jesse’s shirt until the buttons came undone, kept his grip on Jesse’s hair as he wriggled out of his top. He’d seen Jesse naked a hundred times, but always with a screen between them; seeing him here, in the flesh, close enough for him to touch, with those beautiful brown eyes staring straight into his own—
“Still want more?”
This time, Hanzo didn’t hold himself back; he let himself fuck into Jesse’s mouth, the pleasure half from the physical stimulation, half from the power of using Jesse’s mouth like this, knowing that he liked it, knowing that he wanted him to do this. He sank himself all the way into Jesse’s mouth again, held him there, breath hitching as he looked at Jesse through half-lidded eyes. How Jesse could look pleased and smug even with a cock choking him… Hanzo groaned. He pulled Jesse back earlier this time, knowing that he could have kept Jesse there longer, but also painfully aware that anything more would make him come.
“Christ,” Hanzo said, finally letting go of Jesse’s hair and letting his own head fall back. Jesse rested his cheek against Hanzo’s thigh, his fingers stroking feather-light against Hanzo’s cock.
“I still want you to fuck me, you know,” Jesse said, his voice teasing. Hanzo covered his face with one hand.
“Give me a second,” he replied. “Unless you want me to come the second I’m inside you.”
“Fine, fine,” Jesse said. He sat back and tugged the rest of Hanzo’s clothes off, then undressed himself as well, making sure to stand and turn, shimmying his hips as he pulled off his pants. Of course he was going commando; Hanzo really shouldn’t have expected anything else. The sight of his round ass made Hanzo groan, his cock twitching with interest.
“Come here,” Hanzo said. Jesse obeyed, sitting on the couch beside Hanzo; before he could make a snarky comment, Hanzo shoved him down on the couch and straddled his legs, gripping their cocks together as he pinned Jesse’s arms up over his head with his other hand.
“You’re not to come unless I say you can, got it?” Hanzo said, stroking them together relentlessly. Jesse let out a sharp moan as he writhed under Hanzo, his face no longer cocky.
“I asked you a question,” Hanzo growled, his grip tightening almost painfully. Jesse let out a keening whine.
“Yessir,” he gasped.
“Good,” Hanzo said. “Next: Green for all clear. Yellow for slow down. Red for stop. Got it?”
“And,” Hanzo said, switching his grip so that he was only stroking Jesse now, “you’re only to call me Sir or Shimada-san. Got it?”
“Yes Shimada-san,” Jesse breathed, and Hanzo could’ve come right there.
“Tell me now if there’s anything you don’t want me to do,” Hanzo said, leaning down to kiss along Jesse’s neck.
“No fluids except spit. Slap me only across my ass.” Jesse let out a long moan when Hanzo sucked at his nipple. “Don’t call me a slut or a whore. I’ll use the safewords for anything else.”
“Good boy,” Hanzo said. He kissed Jesse’s hips, his pace smooth as he stroked Jesse’s cock, shifting his free hand to press down on Jesse’s stomach to keep him from bucking into his hand. “When’s the last time you came?”
“By yourself or with someone else?”
“What did you think about?”
“W-whether you were as filthy as I hoped,” Jesse said, voice catching on a moan.
“And?” Hanzo kissed the inside of Jesse’s thighs, nipped at him until he was squirming.
“God, you’re perfect,” Jesse said. “Please, sir, I’m close, can I—?”
“No.” Hanzo withdrew his hand, pressing the pads of his fingers harshly into Jesse’s hips as he cried out and bucked at the suddenly too-empty air.
“More,” Jesse said. “Please—”
Hanzo silenced him with another kiss, rough and punishing, swallowing down Jesse’s whimpers. He tugged at Jesse’s nipples, his entire body reacting to Jesse’s every cry and plea.
“Please,” Jesse whispered every time they broke apart, “please—”
And Hanzo would silence him again, crushing into his gasping mouth. He reached down to stroke Jesse’s cock, savoring Jesse’s moans as he writhed and fucked into his hand, relishing how loud Jesse’s mewls were when he parted from him to take his cock into his mouth.
“That’s good,” Jesse gasped. His freed hands twisted at the couch, then scrabbled to find their way to Hanzo’s hair, desperate to control the rhythm and coax him into going faster, deeper. Hanzo swatted Jesse’s hands away and pinned them back onto his chest, pausing to come up to speak, his tongue trailing on the head of Jesse’s cock.
“Only good boys get to come,” Hanzo said, tsking. “Any more of that and I might change my mind about even letting you come in the first place.”
“Please no,” Jesse groaned, tugging his hands from Hanzo’s and clutching firmly at the arm of the couch above him, well away from himself and Hanzo. “I’ll be good Shimada-san, I promise.”
“Mmm.” Hanzo sat back up, watching Jesse as he worked at him: his chest glistening with sweat, his knuckles white, his hair a mess, his expression submissive and lustful. Fuck, he almost wanted to let Jesse come now just to see that blissed out expression he loved, to hear the sinful sounds he made, but it was far too early for that. He wanted to bring Jesse as close to the edge as possible, to have him sobbing with want, his pleasure at Hanzo’s mercy.
“Gonna come,” Jesse said. “God, I’m gonna, please, please sir may I—?”
“Not yet,” Hanzo said, pulling away again and tugging hard at Jesse’s nipples, eliciting a yell of frustration and pain from him. Jesse turned his hips as if to start rutting against the couch, desperate for friction, but seemed to think better of it as he turned back and tried to hold still, quivering.
“You have lube and condoms?” Hanzo asked, rubbing circles into Jesse’s thigh.
Hanzo stroked himself languidly and watched as Jesse disappeared down the hallway, the view from the back just as delicious. Jesse reappeared moments later; Hanzo patted the spot beside him.
Jesse did as he was told—God, what else would he let Hanzo do to him?—and Hanzo reached up to cradle the back of his neck and pull him into another kiss, this one sweeter but still deep, the pleasure of it shooting through Hanzo as he kept stroking himself and ran his tongue along Jesse’s lips. Jesse moaned softly, letting Hanzo in; he dropped the condoms and lube and cradled Hanzo’s face in his palms, the gesture somehow more intimate than anything they’d done up to this point. Hanzo would switch from time to time, but even though he was being a dom with Jesse now, he still enjoyed the safety of this touch, the affection, the reassurance that Jesse was still into this.
Hanzo broke the kiss but held Jesse where he was, their faces close together, enough to amplify the intensity of Hanzo’s gaze.
“On your back,” he said.
Hanzo settled himself between Jesse’s legs and trailed kisses down his thighs, chuckling as Jesse canted his hips up at him and whined.
“So eager,” he said. “You want me that bad?”
“I’ve only been thinking about this since the first time I saw you,” Jesse replied, running a hand through his hair. “God, please, I can’t take it much longer.”
“I know you can,” Hanzo said, drawing a line with his tongue along Jesse’s inner thigh and stopping just short of his cock. He popped open the bottle of lube and slicked his fingers, circling around Jesse, his touch soft enough to draw sensation but not hard enough to satisfy.
“Come on,” Jesse said, his voice just shy of desperate. Hanzo nipped at Jesse’s thigh as he pushed a finger into him, careful to sense Jesse’s response and not go too quickly. He glanced over at Jesse, watching his reaction as he crooked his finger. Jesse bit his lip and lifted his hips to meet him, mouth falling open as Hanzo worked at him and edged closer to the right spot.
“There,” Jesse gasped after a moment, tightening on him. Hanzo pressed slow, long strokes into Jesse, his cheek against his quivering thigh; he gradually deepened the pressure, quickened his pace, watching with pride as Jesse quaked, his body taut in his hands.
“Can you take more?”
Hanzo worked in another finger, watching as Jesse took in a shuddering breath and bit down on his fist, his hips moving rhythmically, spasming when Hanzo wrapped his free hand around Jesse’s cock and gave him a few slow strokes, his thumb slipping against the head, wet with precome.
“Fuck,” Jesse said. His breaths were coming out irregularly now, at once a gasp and then a hitch, his moans bordering on frantic. “God, you’re gonna make me—you’re gonna make me—ahh—”
“Mmm, almost, but not yet,” Hanzo said, withdrawing both hands and holding Jesse’s thighs as he thrust into the air, a choked sob wrenched from his throat, his hands flying up to clutch at his face.
“Fuck, you fucking bastard, I should’ve never invited you here, God, I just want to come—”
“But if you didn’t invite me, then who would give you what you want?” Hanzo said, relishing the tears brimming in Jesse’s eyes, the ragged frustration in his groan, the distressed way his hands had moved to clutch at his chest as if he were physically restraining himself from reaching down to finish the job himself. Hanzo laughed, the sound almost cruel, as he tore the foil of the packet and rolled a condom onto his cock. “You can hold out a little longer. I know you can.”
“I don’t want to,” Jesse said, petulant.
“I suppose I’ll be merciful today and skip making you beg for it,” Hanzo said, slicking his cock with more lube. “I’m tired of waiting, anyway.”
He guided himself into Jesse, a small fuck involuntarily passing his lips as he entered: Jesse was so hot, the sensation better than anything he could’ve done to himself, and Jesse’s soft moan, the way he ran his hands up and down Hanzo’s arms as he braced his weight over Jesse, lit every one of his nerves, made his entire body tingle.
He bottomed out and let himself stay there for a moment, breathing with Jesse. He leaned forward, peppering Jesse’s cheek with kisses that made Jesse hum appreciatively.
“Still okay?” Hanzo said, his voice gentler this time.
“Very,” Jesse replied. He was so gorgeous, warm and close and looking up at him with something almost like adoration. Hanzo kissed him softly, sighing as Jesse reached up to wrap his arms around him. He began moving then, slowly, doing his best to gauge how Jesse was doing.
“You ain’t going to break me,” Jesse said when he parted from Hanzo. “Harder.”
Hanzo smirked, his forehead touching Jesse’s, whose gaze held all the spark and energy of a challenge.
“How can I refuse when you asked me so nicely?” Hanzo said. He thrust into Jesse then, hard, savoring how it made him cry out. He pushed his pace to something unrelenting, bordering on punishing, and watched as Jesse came undone, words falling apart into gasps and moans, into a babbling plea against the filthy noise of their sweat-slicked bodies pounding together. It was taking all of Hanzo’s control to keep the coil of pleasure inside him tightly wound, to make sure he didn’t come before Jesse did, even as the feeling engulfed him and rendered him breathless.
“Please,” Jesse said, and Hanzo would’ve almost missed the word for how soft of a whisper it was. Jesse gazed up at Hanzo, his eyes half-lidded, his hands tightening on Hanzo’s arms, a muffled sob of pleasure escaping him as Hanzo hit the spot inside of him that made him shudder. “I can’t hold out any longer, I can’t, I can’t—”
“You’ve been so good,” Hanzo said, tracing a thumb along Jesse’s lower lip, running the back of his hand along the stubble lining Jesse’s jaw.
“Please,” Jesse begged, even more softly. Hanzo reached down to stroke Jesse’s cock again, drinking in the sight as Jesse threw his head back.
“Look at me when I’m fucking you,” Hanzo commanded. Jesse snapped his head back up, his gaze pleading, his whole body so tightly wound that Hanzo knew he couldn’t form a word even if he desperately wanted to. Having Jesse like this would just as well plunge Hanzo over the edge, break him too; he mustered the last of his control to say, “Go ahead then. Come for me.”
Jesse needed no further encouragement. He quaked and shouted, going boneless as he came over his chest, cum streaking his skin, his whole body still trembling as Hanzo came after him. Hanzo let himself bask in the sensation for several breaths afterward, his hips still grinding gently against Jesse’s. The sound of their inhales and exhales washed over them as Hanzo came down from the high, his head still spinning.
“God,” Hanzo said, his arms shaking as he withdrew from Jesse and stood on wobbly legs. “Where’s your bathroom?”
“Stay,” Jesse grumbled.
“I’m not going anywhere. Just give me a second to get us cleaned up first.”
“Down the hall, first door on the right,” Jesse said, gesturing vaguely in the general direction of the hallway. Hanzo made his way to the bathroom and discarded the condom; he washed his hands and ran one of the hand towels under warm water before wringing it out.
“Back,” Hanzo said, running the towel over Jesse’s chest, careful not to be too rough against his oversensitive skin. “How are you doing?”
“Real good,” Jesse said. Hanzo put the towel aside as Jesse yawned. “Really, really good.”
“I’m glad.” Hanzo smiled at him, daring to let affection warm his chest. “Do you need water or a snack?”
“Just water is fine,” Jesse said. “Thank you.”
“Of course.” Hanzo went to the kitchen, opening and closing cabinets until he found a glass that he filled with water and brought back to Jesse, who pushed himself up with effort and drank the entire glass. Hanzo took the cup from him and set it on the coffee table, then laced his hand with Jesse’s, giving him a gentle tug. “Get up or else you’re going to fall asleep on the couch.”
“’S cozy though,” Jesse said, his voice already growing heavy. “And my room is a goddamn mess.”
“I don’t care,” Hanzo said. “Come on. Up.”
He tugged again at Jesse, who stood with a long-suffering whine and allowed Hanzo to push him down the hallway. Jesse flopped onto the unmade bed and refused to move even as Hanzo rolled his eyes and climbed over him to the other side, dragging the blanket up over them with him. He spooned up to Jesse and kissed his shoulders while rubbing his back.
“What do you need from me now?” Hanzo said, his voice soft and soothing, all trace of cruelty or harshness gone. Jesse pressed closer to him and turned his head back for a gentle kiss.
“Cuddles,” Jesse said. “Plus telling me how good I was.”
“So good,” Hanzo said, wrapping his arms more tightly around Jesse. “Gorgeous and the best I’ve ever had.”
“Aww,” Jesse said, burying his face further into the pillow. They lay like that for a while, breaths evening out in the silence. Hanzo thought Jesse had fallen asleep and was about to drift off himself when Jesse turned, the sheets rustling.
“You don’t mind me doing porn, then?” he asked, his tone careful and tentative.
“Am I supposed to?” Hanzo said, genuinely puzzled. After all, the porn had been what had gotten them in this situation in the first place. He wasn’t the jealous type; if anything, knowing that others appreciated Jesse made him all the more pleased.
“Guess not,” Jesse said, pressing a kiss to Hanzo’s jaw. “Some people are weird about it is all.”
“Fuck them,” Hanzo said, then added, “or not.”
Jesse snorted. Hanzo pecked him on the cheek before letting his eyes flutter shut, his breathing evening out with Jesse’s as they both fell asleep.
It was only when Hanzo was on the bus that the reality of the previous night really sank in. He didn’t regret it, but, as daylight dappled the road and the familiar buildings of campus came into view, he began to wonder if it hadn’t been a bad idea.
He pulled out his phone, which still had enough battery to survive until he got back home. He tapped on the Messages icon and paused, staring at Genji’s name, before finally opening the thread and typing.
So… you know how it’s a bad idea to fuck your coworkers?
It was 10am on a Saturday, which usually meant that Genji would still be asleep, but his sixth sense always honed him in on hot gossip, so of course he replied immediately.
Hanzo paused, considering his words carefully before tapping out another message.
Do fellow grad students count as coworkers?
He swore he had just hit send when the reply came in.
His phone buzzed, the Kill Bill siren—his ringtone for Genji—blaring far too loudly in the bus. Hanzo fumbled before managing to hit the answer button.
“Good morning, otouto,” Hanzo said, bracing himself.
“Anija, you’re the one who told me not to shit where I eat,” Genji said by way of reply.
“So is that a yes?”
He could almost see Genji throwing his arms up in exasperation.
“Bro,” Genji said, sighing. “It’s not that it’s an inherently bad thing to fuck a coworker. I’m just saying, if things go bad, are you really okay with potentially being around them for another, what, four, five years?”
Hanzo opened and closed his mouth, doubt beginning to creep back in.
“Good luck, bro.” A pause. “Was it good, at least?”
Hanzo coughed and cleared his throat. “Uh. Very.”
“I’m happy for you about that, then. Maybe now you’ll look less grumpy.”
“You know as well as I do that it’s just resting bitch face.”
He could hear Genji rolling his eyes from here. “Trust me, there’s resting bitch face, and then there’s hasn’t-gotten-laid-in-years-probably.”
“I’m hanging up now.”
“Love you too.”
Hanzo spent the rest of Saturday vacillating between feeling fine and feeling as if he’d just singlehandedly wrecked the Carolina linguistics department. That was a bad decision, Hanzo thought as he put together notes for his paper. Then he thought about Jesse’s expression, desperate and needy, wrecked and undone, and had to take a moment to deal with his raging hard-on. He couldn’t even bask in the afterglow of his orgasm, though; the voices telling him that he’d made a mistake crept back in: a million things could go wrong between them, and there was nowhere to escape to. Professor Reyes was the only one with a suitable enough background to advise on Hanzo’s Asian-American English thesis and Jesse’s Spanglish thesis. Hanzo mentally went through the other faculty, but none of them would really be able to provide feedback and guidance on the work that Hanzo wanted to do.
God. Hanzo covered his face. It had been a bad decision, but, at the same time, the thought of Jesse looking at him, seeing him, demanding nothing of him except the persona Hanzo wanted to be anyway, the part of him that wasn’t a flimsy exterior built to cater to someone else’s fetish—it was unlike anything he’d ever felt before.
And he liked Jesse, beyond all that. Liked Jesse’s Southern accent that he’d somehow picked up in New Mexico. Liked his cocky, self-assured attitude, his confidence, his humor, liked the fact that he didn’t give any fucks about what other people thought and would wear a gold BAMF belt buckle and a Carolina blue serape if he damn well wanted to. Liked that he could be social like some kind of normal person but also rattle off linguistic theories and tear apart academic arguments without breaking a sweat.
He had it bad.
He made himself put away his phone and get a good night’s sleep before making any decisions.
Sunday morning found him calm and clear-headed, the usual panic he should have felt gone. He rolled over and picked up his phone, hesitating only for a moment before typing a message.
Was thinking of going to Buns for lunch today. Want to come with?
He set the phone back down, willing himself not to expect anything. He could pretend it all meant nothing and was just a one-time thing. But before he could let himself get lost in his thoughts, his phone buzzed.
sure :-) noon okay?
It was just lunch, he told himself, but he still spent an excessive amount of time digging through his clothes to put together a decent outfit. He settled on his soft black tee printed with Colorless green ideas sleep furiously in letterpress-style typography and a nice pair of gray pants plus a jacket.
His nervousness vanished as soon as he saw Jesse leaning against the railing, his hair falling into his eyes, Stetson shading his face. He hadn’t noticed Hanzo yet, giving him a chance to drink in the sight before walking up to him.
“Hey,” he said. Jesse grinned.
“Hey darlin’,” he replied.
This was… good. Comfortable. They fell into conversation easily, not so much as if nothing had happened, but more with a closeness that hadn’t existed previously. Hanzo discovered that Jesse liked going to the shooting range—“You and me, revolver versus bow; loser buys drinks”—and that, although Jesse had been reluctant to admit it at first, he had impeccable taste in obscure anime.
It wasn’t until they were standing outside again, their backs to a red brick wall as they continued to chat about nothing in particular, that Hanzo decided, fuck it; he’d suppressed his wants and kept his walls up for long enough. Bad decision or not, he wasn’t going to let a good thing pass him by.
He fell quiet.
“Hanzo?” Jesse said, tilting his head. “Everything okay?”
“More than okay,” he said, pulling Jesse in for a kiss. Jesse let out a surprised noise before melting into it, his hands coming to a rest on Hanzo’s hips.
He could get used to this.