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24th Batch

Chapter Text

Lúcio has been sent to the showers after his training routine but he still lurks around the gym, gawking at McCree having to do some penalty rounds because he arrived without a hairband once more.

Lúcio has his water bottle in front of himself, two hands around it in a claw like grip as he stars with a slightly open mouth at McCree and the big sweat spots beneath his arm and down his back. 

Lúcio is creeping closer and closer to the spot where his fellow recruit is doing jumping jacks beneath the unimpressed gaze of Commander Reyes. His heart is starting to thump a faster, excited rhythm when he catches a whiff of McCree’s sweaty funk, and his bottle lowers automatically to shield his cock from the sight of those around them.

Reyes’ dark gaze flicks over as he sees movement. His face is impassive and neutral as he takes Lúcio in, but he’s dealt enough times with the young man to know exactly what is going on in his head.

He lifts his upper lip in a derisive sneer.

“Dos Santos!” he barks and Lúcio freezes on the spot, eying him a bit nervously. Reyes being there as well does not help. His body is responding on its own to his commander’s proximity, and he wishes he were sandwiched between those two big, strong men. “I told you to hit the showers!”

“I… uh… yes,” he murmurs, trying not to make it too obvious that he is huffing the air as if he is trying to get high on McCree’s stink. Jesse is watching him with his brows raised in confusion but a big smile on his face because that’s who he is.

He is wiping at his brow and winking at Lúcio, but before he can say anything undoubtedly flirtatious, Reyes barks at him to continue.

Lúcio retreats to the showers where he lingers, working slowly to clean himself, knowing that he’ll miss lunch, but… he needs to talk to McCree.


“Do you… want to work out together? Tomorrow morning?”

“Oh shit… uh… that’s pretty early…”

“Please? You uh… you’re way better in push-ups than me and I wanted you to show me some tricks…”

“I dunno if there are any… ah shit… alright. But you gotta wake me.”

“No problem! Thanks!”


“Shit… ah… that your workout dress?” Jesse is staring at Lúcio, mouth hanging a little open, suddenly wide awake.

Lúcio is wearing tiny shorts that are riding high on his plump thighs, and a loose tanktop that is riding just as low, showing off the swells of his tits and the top of his tight, muscular belly.

The younger man is looking up at Jesse like he can’t find anything amiss with his outfit.

“Yep!” he says, chipper and happy, popping the p, and Jesse’s fate is sealed without him knowing.

He follows Lúcio along the almost deserted hallways. They draw looks – of course they do. None of the night watch is giving them shit, though. Jesse is sure if he’d been traipsing the hallways at this time of day alone, they would have chewed him out already and made him go back to bed until breakfast, but now they seem to be content to just quietly watch Lúcio parade his tight little body around like a … slut.

Jesse is pretty sure the little dress is non-regulation and therefore not allowed, but he couldn’t give less of a shit, especially since he is walking behind Lúcio and can watch his juicy ass cheeks bounce for him.

His shorts are tight enough that they slightly ride up between his cheeks and Jesse would swear his left nut that the kid wasn’t wearing any underwear. The thought of the fabric rubbing up on Lúcio’s hole is giving him a low-key boner that he has to rearrange to make it not too obvious in his loose sweatpants.

Lúcio behaves like this is all normal; him parading himself around like this. He looks even more lewd than if he had come to Jesse’s rooms naked, and the fact that nobody seems to bat an eyelash at that makes Jesse feel like he unwittingly stumbled into an episode of the Twilight Zone.

They stretch at first, and Jesse suddenly is reminded that the last time he could get his dick wet has been… quite a long time ago. Lúcio is in front of him and leaning down, his little hands against the floor right in front of his toes and his cheeks spread, showing how the little bit of fabric from his shorts is rubbing up against his hole.

Jesse subtly tries to turn away a little but somehow the young man always finds his way into his line of sight, showing off just how flexible he is. He is so focused on trying not to get a hard-on in the middle of the gym and not looking like he is staring at Lúcio’s tits an ass (which… he is… he definitely is…) he doesn’t realize the game that the little slut is playing with him.

Lúcio feels giddy and hot, watching Jesse struggle more and more not to grab him and throw him down. He wonders how much more he’ll have to do to make him snap. Maybe tug at his shorts until his cock is slipping out one leg, flashing him with the shiny, ruddy red tip of it, because Lúcio has been hot for hours now and his cock is continuously wet for it.

“I can’t really see it like that,” he murmurs when he’s finally talked Jesse into showing him a few easy reps (which… seems weird to Jesse; he’s seen the little medic do a lot of difficult shit since he’s stepped foot in the base), but he nods obediently anyway.

Anything to just get his body to comply and not pay any more attention to Lúcio looking like a cheap whore.

It would be Jesse’s luck, of course, that right when Lúcio curls his arms around his middle, sticking his hands beneath his shirt to grab at his hairy belly and feel the tight muscles there… right when he is about to grab his wrists and call him out on his behavior, Commander Reyes steps inside.

Jesse’s belly clenches in immediate alarm, balls trying to crawl back up into his body, and Lúcio… Lúcio doesn’t stop pawing at him. He is pressed against Jesse’s back, rubbing his cheek between his shoulder blades and crooning some nonsense about Jesse already stinking of sweat.

Holy shit.

Holy shit.

“I … ah… Commander!” he says and stands at attention, sweat prickling along his hairline. Reyes has been lenient with him up until now but he’s pretty sure this won’t fly…

“Hmmm… you’re still dressed. You’re more resilient than I gave you credit for.”

Jesse blinks at him slowly, his brain trying to catch up.

The Commander is standing there in combat boots and black hoodie, his beanie pulled deep onto his head. He looks like he is going to bark at Jesse to get down and start his damn workout, but there is a fat, unmistakable erection down one thick thigh, and Jesse feels like he is trapped between a rock and a hard place.

The world has tilted on its axis when he was asleep.

“Go on. Fuck the little slut. He’s been gagging for your dick since you arrived, and I don’t have enough time to have him bounce on my cock.”

Jesse stares.

Lúcio whines. He is pressing himself against Jesse’s back, his cock poking against his ass, gently fucking against him to take the edge off.

His voice is almost unrecognizable as he breathily whispers: “Please?”

Reyes sneers. He barks: “McCree! Dick out!”

And Jesse jumps to obey.

Chapter Text

When Gavin’s usual bathroom brake exceeds the generous five minutes that RK900 has begun to allow him, the android stands without much fuss and quietly makes his way to the restrooms.

There is no need to alert others to the fact that his partner is once more not following along parameters that Nines has clearly outlined for him. Gavin is a difficult human and he needs frequent reminders of who is calling the shots in their… relationship.

He needs a strict handling with firm, unmistakable rules. He is but a dog for Nines to train, and the android takes his task seriously (and performs it with no small amount of satisfaction if he is being honest).

Still, it vexes him that Gavin should already have forgotten their little… altercation from the day before yesterday where Nines has swept his legs out from beneath him and nearly made him crack his skull on the dirty floor in the detective’s apartment to get him to stop arguing and comply with the androids demands of cleaning the place.

Detective Reed reacts well to being pushed around and bullied, and he’d gone slack-jawed and aroused, cock an obvious bulge in his jeans that Nines had blatantly ignored as he pushed his face against the sticky bathroom floor like one would a puppy that needs to learn not to defecate in their own home.

He had thought the lesson had stuck… at least for a little while longer, but… Well.

Long before he reaches the door to the restrooms, Nines’ far superior auditive sensors pick up on little sound bits that have the amused exasperation from earlier vanish immediately.

There’s the soft, slick sound of wet skin on skin, dragging and squelching and the little cut-off sighs and groans that a human trying to be quiet usually produces. RK900 should know: Gavin tries so very hard time and time again until Nines shows him that resistance is futile.

By the time he is standing in front of the restroom doors, Nines’ machinations are not only able to identify who is being in there with Detective Reed, but also exactly what they are doing.

His reconstruction software hasn’t been built for this exact scenario but has no trouble still to extrapolate from the size of the room and the decibel of the sounds reaching him that Detectives Reed and Ivans are standing close to the sinks where Reed probably has accosted the older man as he had been about to finish up and leave.

Ivans’ sound is soft and muffled, very likely due to him cupping a palm across his mouth to silence himself.

The lack of sounds from Reed, as well as the slick sounds of sucking seem to suggest him being on his knees and utilizing his mouth to bring the other man pleasure.

Nines is standing in front of the restroom doors, steam slowly beginning to rise from his synthetic skin, as he balls his right hand into a tight, crushing fist. His face remains a neutral blank, staring at the door, eyelids lowered as his software shows him the reconstructed silhouettes of the men on the other side:

Ivans a heavy set man of the stature of Lieutenant Anderson, leaning with his behind against the sinks, one hand with a deathclaw like grip around the rim, the other pressed against his mouth with Reed’s smaller, slimmer build before him, his head bobbing as he fucks his mouth on the ruddy human cock…

There’s a small electric sizzling at the base of Nines’ cranium which makes him twitch minimally, shoulders jumping slightly before he relaxes all his locked joints and forces his processes to reduce their speed to two thirds of what they are working now.

It makes it easier for him to calculate the situation and come to a decision regarding Detective Reed’s obvious misconduct during work hours. He does not consider the part of him that is very obviously agitated by the fact that Reed has solicited another being.

Having calmed himself, he places his palm against the scanner next to the door reading a friendly green open. When he pulls it back, the panel has shifted to a red, blinking maintenance.

The doors slide open before him, and he feels smug as he sees just how correct his reconstruction software had been; the only difference being that Ivans’ claw grip is not around the rim of the sink he is leaning against, but in Gavin’s thick brown hair, holding on for what looks like dear life while the Detective’s throat is bulging around cock and tears are glistening at the corners of his eyes with how rudely he chokes himself on it.

“Detectives,” Nines calls calmly, standing tall and with his hands folded behind his back. Only the brief cycle of yellow on his temple showing the satisfaction he feels at seeing both men jump and Ivans dragging Reed off his cock via the grip he has on his hair.

His phallus pulls from the Detective’s throat with a lewd pop that makes Nines’ frame twitch once more minimally. That it must look a bit… concerning he concludes from the way Ivans’ face grows a lot paler than it usually is. The man’s cock is bobbing out of his open pants, glistening wet with Reed’s saliva, a particularly sticky string still connecting the shiny fat tip with equally shiny red lips.

He snatches his hand from his mouth and down to his dick, stuffing it back into his garments without taking care to dab at the wetness covering it with a wad of tissues.

Ivans can’t get out fast enough and RK900 blithely steps to the side to let him pass. He is not interested in the other human. Not for now, at least. For now, he is focusing on Gavin who is still kneeling on the restroom floor and is staring at Nines slack jawed and wide-eyed.

The whole situation from Nines stepping into the restroom and Ivans fleeing doesn’t last longer than 43 seconds, and suddenly everything is very quiet.

Nines feels calm and collected, but something must tip Reed off that he’s ‘done and did it’ this time because his face pulls into a rictus of concerned fear as he falls onto his ass and scrambles back from the advancing android.

Nines does not quicken his step; there is nowhere for Reed to run, after all.

“S-Stay away from me you freaky terminator!” Reed yells and Nines does not deign it with an answer. He is much more focused on Reed’s wet mouth and the spittle against his chin where he knows Detective Ivans’ balls have rested while Gavin stuffed his throat with dick like he hasn’t seen any in years.

When he is with him, he reaches out and grabs Gavin’s hair in much the same way Ivans had done – though maybe a good deal harder if the way Reed’s face balls up is any indication.

“I do not recall allowing you to solicit other men in the restroom.”

Gavin gapes at him, his face becoming, if possible, even redder. His scar stands out starkly against the deep color. His eyes are, as usual, very wet with imminent tears.

“I don’t need fuckin’ permission from you to do shit!”

Nines calmly stares down at him while working his own trousers open with expert calmness and efficiency.

He twists his wrist, and with it, Gavin’s neck, forcing him to contort himself if he doesn’t want his neck broken. After just a few moments he cries out in pain.

“I said: I do not recall allowing you to solicit other men in the restroom.”

Gavin crumples immediately like the wet tissue that he is.

“I’m sorry!” he cries out, scrabbling at Nines’ impeccably pressed trousers. “I’m sorry!”

Nines does not make a sound. He slowly untwists the human like he is an instrument that is being played.

“Open up.”

He is very calm but Reed moves like he knows the white hot anger and possessiveness that roars through the android because his mouth falls open without another word and he lets his throat get filled with yet another cock.

“I will give you a reminder who you belong to.”

Chapter Text

The way Aziraphale walks belies how he hunts. He’s been on the world as long as Crowley – which is… long… – but he has yet to get the hang of simply putting one clawed foot in front of the other.

Crowley is lounging in the shadow of an apple tree, the tip of his tail slowly lifting and lowering as he watches Aziraphale land and awkwardly stalk towards him.

His belly is big and prominent. Well-fed. Crowley shudders and lets himself sink into the juicy grass, slowly, lasciviously writhing with his sinuously long, powerful body.

Aziraphale never feeds in front of him (“You wouldn’t want to see it… it is positively brutish.”) but the thought of it gets him hot and needy within seconds. There is a satchel bound with a string around Aziraphale’s hips, and Crowley can see a bloodied piece of cloth peeking out.

He can imagine Aziraphale hunting down a hapless human. He’d apologize to them politely before wringing their neck and ripping the flesh from their bones – and then he’d daintily dab at the blood staining his lips and chin, murmuring ‘oh my… how frightfully messy’ over and over again.

“Well fed,” Crowley hisses with no small amount of satisfaction as he curls in front of Aziraphale. He likes the sight of the harpy’s fat belly.

Aziraphale himself looks ashamed, like he has been caught doing something naughty. He comes to a stop next to the naga after one last wide step that makes him look like a sailor who is on land for the first time in months.

His cream colored feathers ruffle and he sputters, but Crowley just rolls over again, the slit of his cloaca already a prominent red slash against the ink black backdrop of his scales. It opens slightly, the flesh inside wet and red hot looking.

“I had no choice,” Aziraphale murmurs awkwardly and Crowley hisses, this time annoyed.

“It’s alright to enjoy it! You don’t kill ‘em for fun. But you like doing it, don’t you?”

Aziraphale looks away, an embarrassed flush crawling up his scarcely feathered neck.

The feathers all around his shoulders and head are fine and small and have an endearing curl to them. He looks always ruffled. Crowley wants to touch them and try to smooth them down even though he knows it will be a futile endeavor.

“They just… are so delicious,” Aziraphale finally sighs. He gives in without much of a fight – as usual.

Crowley’s grin widens, showing off his sharp fangs as he turns onto his back and arches his belly up into the air. He has writhed himself out of the shadow and into the sun, and his slit blooms open like a flower at the hot rays falling down on his scales.

He reaches down unabashedly, spreading the scaly rims apart with two spread fingers, his cloaca looking swollen and obscene, gaping and contracting; a greedy little mouth that wants to get stuffed like Aziraphale stuffed himself. He wants his belly to be just as fat and prominent as Aziraphale’s.

It is taboo, of course… a union between a naga and a harpy, but neither of them cares. They are all but brood mates. Where one goes, the other will follow.

There are strings of slick being stretched apart whenever his cloaca gapes, making it look messy and wet… and hungry.

Aziraphale is watching; just standing there and observing Crowley being lewd for him; how he stretches his cloaca open for the harpy’s viewing pleasure and eventually even curls his tail, the thin little tip playing at his own opening.

Crowley gasps, pressing one clawed hand against his chest, shocked by Crowley’s audacity. His round cheeks quickly become a dark, flustered red.

“Crowley!” he says, finally sinking down onto his knees and bringing himself closer to the naga. “You are… you are impossible!”

Crowley keeps grinning at him, eyes thinned with pleasure as he keeps rounding the swollen opening of his cloaca with the tip of his own tail, his free hand sliding to pet his tight, empty belly.

“Maybe so,” he murmurs, “but I’m also so empty…”

Aziraphale sputters, and almost falls back onto his ass as he stares at the naga curling and uncurling his whole body in an amorous display that is quite different to harpies but still has Aziraphale flustered and interested.

“Fill me,” Crowley hisses finger rounding his belly button while his tail is doing the same. awkward as Aziraphale’s walk is, Crowley would let him fuck him every day of the week. Twice if Aziraphale were up for giving over his dick so often.

Aziraphale has been wearing a teasing slip of cloth around his hips which had been shielding his crotch; akin to a loincloth but even more airy. A broad strip of fabric that could be blown away by a not-even-stiff breeze which Crowley has been staring at and love-hating for as long as he’d known Aziraphale to wear it in order to modestly shield himself from prying eyes.

Not that anything was even visible as long as he wasn’t… excited – but oh well.

Crowley has his tail curled around one of Aziraphale’s legs, all his tremendous muscles squeezing down as if to try and shatter the bone while the harpy is fucking him so hard, he is being pushed across the juicy grass until his shoulders are finally braced against the trunk of the apple tree.

There are eight lines of desperation showing his path where he has clawed his fingers into the soil to try and not rip at Aziraphale’s sensitive little feathers which litter his body.

“B-Birdie… Birdie!” Crowley stutters out as he lets his head thump back against the trunk, eyes clenched shut, focusing on the feeling of Aziraphale’s fat cock painfully spreading his poor little cloaca past what it has been intended for.

Aziraphale is sweet and always bashful – but not when he is fucking Crowley’s swollen little cloaca on his rough harpy cock that is making little stars of pain-pleasure explode in front of Crowley’s eyes as the harsh little barbs keep plucking at the sensitive rim of the poor little hole he is drilling in sharp, deep thrusts.

Crowley’s cocks are out, uselessly bouncing behind Aziraphale’s back. Every now and then they tap against the harpy as if begging him to sit down on them; give Crowley at least another point of bright pleasure to focus on while his cloaca is on fire, but Aziraphale is single-minded after his belly has been filled and is now dragging with every thick, overbearing thrust against Crowley’s tight stomach.

“Birdie!” Crowley sobs again, the only word still flying around his sizzling brain. His long black-red hair is all over the place, stuck to the branch of the tree or his wide-open lips, forked tongue lolling over his bottom lip while Aziraphale gives it to him just like he’d been begging for.

Aziraphale is good and cute and sweet, but not when it is about sating Crowley’s hunger.

His cloaca will take days afterwards to become a semblance of modest again. It’ll be swollen and bulging, obscenely out there and in the open after being railed by Aziraphale, the harpy quiet and overbearing and very intense as he stares at Crowley like he’s hung the moon and the stars.

He wouldn’t be able to show himself to his fellow Naga, lest they know he is a dirty harpy fucker, but...

It’s not like Crowley would have it any other way.

Chapter Text

Hanzo feels like he is about to suffocate; not only because Genji is sitting on his back for a better view and to keep his ass spread wide for McCree, but also from the thick unwashed Alpha stench around him.

He is pretty sure that most of it wafts off of McCree; the cowboy is a disgusting oaf… but the knowledge that he is cramming his ruddy, unwashed cock into Hanzo is also too good to be true.

McCree is the most drunk from the three Alphas that Hanzo has run into, and he fucks like he has trouble remembering what a cock is. If Genji were not helpfully spreading Hanzo’s ass and making his red, prepared hole flash like a warning sign at them, McCree would probably not know where to stick his dick.

As is, the old cowboy is fucking away sloppily. He is chuffing like an engine, his breath coming in gurgling breaths as if he might collapse any second, and Genji is providing a backdrop of giggling and cajoling that has Hanzo’s ears burn just as much as his lungs that are struggling for some oxygen.

“Look at you, McCree! You’re fucking Alpha cunt like a pro! Don’t tell me you’re doing this on the regular?”

McCree groans. Hanzo does not think he will answer (probably has to focus his remaining two brain cells to keep drilling the hole he is presented with) but eventually he does speak; low and out of breath.

“A hole is a hole. Doesn’t matter none if its an Alpha or Omega.”

Hanzo is prickling all over. He is staring ahead of himself, fingers scrabbling slowly against the hood of the hover car they have bend him over.

Genji shifts a bit, and Hanzo pulls in a huge, gasping breath of air, but all he can smell and taste is cock and Alpha, and he is suddenly aware of just how close he is to coming; cock untouched, just from being spread on Alpha dick and surrounded by them.

Just from listening to McCree talking about him like he is nothing but a living toy.

“Look at you… you were so desperate, were you not, my friend?”

Hanzo has forgotten about Reinhardt for a few moments. The big crusader has been silent, listening to the small conversation, as well as Hanzo’s wheezing breaths, and now he is reaching out and petting Hanzo’s head.

His face is probably very kind and understanding, but Hanzo can’t look up at him when his old Alpha cock is right there. It is big and flushed and intimidating looking even though it isn’t fully hard yet.

Reinhardt, seeing Hanzo’s glassy eyes, even lifts it up some and lets him see the generous loose folds at the base where his knot will form.

Hanzo’s insides shrivel and clench up tight at the sight. Reinhardt’s knot looks like it’ll be as big as a fist. The thought has a high whistling start up in Hanzo’s ears, but his mouth drops open easy and sloppy when the big Alpha steps a bit closer and offers him the spongy tip.

He can’t fit all of it – he can’t even fit most of it – but he feels as content as a babe as he suckles at his first Alpha cock and feels the old dick slowly growing fatter against his eager tongue.

“Don’t knot him. I want him as well.”

Hanzo’s back stiffens at Genji’s exclamation. The small hairs all over his body lift immediately with goosebumps, skin prickling and belly doing a slow flip that leaves him feel a bit nauseated.

This is his brother. His brother… who is talking about fucking him.

If the two others are concerned or disgusted, they don’t say a word. McCree wheezes long and rattling like he is about to keel over, but he does suddenly pull out of Hanzo’s aching hole, leaving it gaping lewdly; a swollen, fire red rim that Hanzo doesn’t manage to coordinate into some semblance of decency.

He can just lie on the hood of the car, dark spots dancing in front of his vision from lack of oxygen, and little sounds of protest being muffled by the musky old Alpha cock he is being fed.

He doesn’t want McCree to pull out! He wants to be filled by Alpha cum! He wants to be filled by Alpha cock!

But his weak struggles peter out as fast as they have come when he feels the hot splashes of McCree’s cum hitting against his ass cheeks. Genji is pulling the slit in his pants so far apart that Hanzo is sure he is ruining them by making the slit too wide, but it is difficult to care for this when he can feel the potent Alpha cum slowly dripping down his ass.

Genji gets off of him, and suddenly Hanzo finds himself in a weird limbo where it is simultaneously easier and harder to breathe.

“Anija… you look so cute!”

Hanzo is staring blindly at Reinhardt’s belly, his mouth slack and not giving any kind of suction for the old Alpha – but Reinhardt doesn’t seem to mind. He just keeps gently nudging his cock against the silky little sponge of Hanzo’s tongue, not commenting on how he is drooling and getting everything messy, or how he is absolutely useless in servicing Alpha cock.

Maybe he realizes that Hanzo is overwhelmed by being fucked by three Alphas… or maybe he knows that Hanzo’s brain has trouble to come to terms with his own little brother shuffling up behind him and spreading his ass once more with both hands, though this time with the intention of sampling the sloppy little Alpha cunt himself.

Or maybe it is something completely different. Hanzo can’t say. He has trouble enough getting his few remaining brain cells to work.

Genji is saying more; sweet and lilting and speaking in Japanese, but Hanzo’s ears are filled with the sound of the ocean.

And then his little brother is fucking him. He is doing so without much fanfare; just nudges his sleek cock against Hanzo’s hole, then letting it slide off of it and fucks it between Hanzo’s cheeks until Hanzo’s body is vibrating and he is scratching up the paint job on the hover car.

Genji is a menace during breeding just as he is in everything else, it seems.

He pops the tip of his cock past the grasping little muscle of Hanzo’s asshole, then immediately pulls back again. Hanzo is drawn tight as a bow string. Someone is patting his hand and trying to keep him from scratching up the hover car, but he can’t focus on anything but the feeling of his own little brother teasing him until tears are pricking the corners of his eyes and he is close to begging him to just give it to him. To stop the torture and push in deep and breed his own Alpha brother.

He doesn’t need to break down for it. Either Genji has pity or his patience runs out – he finally and very suddenly rams into Hanzo, jolting him forward and making him spear himself on Reinhardt’s cock until the old Alpha is nudging at his throat and makes him gag.

Someone is laughing – maybe it is Reinhardt, or it is McCree. His heart is pounding in throat and his cock. He’s trained himself into anal orgasms and he can feel it brewing somewhere low in his abdomen; a feeling that makes him antsy and delirious, his knot starting to gently swell without any outward stimulus.

“Wonder where the little slut was headed,” McCree drawls. “Good thing we caught him before he could do stupid shit.”

Genji cackles as he rails Hanzo like one of the cheap whores he used to buy when he was younger.

Hanzo doesn’t react either way – because McCree is right.

Chapter Text

Having heating Omegas on base is, in general, no problem. The nature of their heat usually leads them to seek out the Heat Rooms all on their own, as they do not wish to be right there and out in the open when they are their most vulnerable.

Being in heat – whether with their partner or not – is an intimate experience that most simply don’t want to share with just about anybody on base, but, as with so many things in life, Gabriel Reyes is the exception to the rule.


Gabriel celebrates his heat. Days before it really hits, he’ll make sure everybody on base knows that he is gearing up to be nice and fertile. 

He readies the Alphas as much as his body is readying itself, and seeing their faces fall into expressions of despair when they catch whiffs of his spicy pre-heat aroma is one of the most sensual things about the whole experience.

He likes to see the older ones hanging their heads in abject acceptance while the young ones still sniff after him subtly, the hope that this time will be the time he lets them mount him still not completely extinguished.

Gabriel is a slut, but he knows that himself. Actively loves it, even. He likes to fuck with the heads of Alphas. He loves reducing them to nothing but cocks for him to use – or, as it happens, not to use.

They are willing victims that start complaining when they catch a nose full of his scent, telling him they’ll go to brass and have him kicked out, but still sneak after him with drool shining on their chins and eyes gone hazy with lust.

They go along with everything and anything as long as they feel like it’ll earn them the right to mount Gabriel and breed him full with their unholy spawn, even though they know perfectly well that he is mated to one Jack Morrison and that’ll not change anytime soon.

Being their superior only is the cherry on top. He lords it over them when he lounges back and spreads his legs wide, letting whoever is unfortunate enough to be in that particular rec room get an eyeful of the dark wet spot on the seat of his pants, only for him to drag out a mean little knife when they come too close for comfort, pressing it against their throats and smiling serenely into their brick red, frustrated faces.

Fucking around with Alphas is a sport that Gabriel looks forward to after every single one of his heats has ended.

There always will be those that are full of themselves and will be eager to show off.

The best situations occur when he catches a bunch of Alphas during their down time; when they’ve managed to get a little drunk on liquor that they’ve snuck into base God-knew-how. When their inhibitions are lowered and their lizardbrains take over, and they are willing to show off for him if only he slowly pops button after button on his combat pants and lets them have thick whiffs of his slick wet hole.

They are like addicts that will do anything just to take a hit right from the source, and Gabriel has to press a hand to his mouth to stifle his slightly deranged giggling.

None of the Alphas has ever mounted another Alpha before coming to the base Gabriel is stationed on, but he is kind enough to let them explore themselves with a little bit of help from his pheromones. He likes seeing them all shivery and low-key aggressive, baring their teeth at each other and snapping at whoever touches them, hyper aware of their own bodies for what is probably the first time in years.

If they are especially good, he’ll pull down his pants and spread his thick thighs wide; give them something to stare at while they breed as clumsily as pups, their eyes fixed on the glistening dark space between his cheeks while Gabriel slowly jerks off, cock big and fat and lazily interested in the proceedings.

They are cute when they whine for him, all high-pitched and a bit pained because they are not used to getting their holes spread on cock… The most delicious part is when Gabriel can see in their eyes how they are getting addicted to it.

When they lift their hips up, shivery and unsure, eyes rolling into their skulls when the Alpha topping them starts hitting all the right spots, alerting them to the itch they’ve been carrying around in their guts without realizing for years.

Gabriel likes to think that he ruins them like that; that after he coaxes those big dumb Alphas into fucking for him, they’ll only be on the prowl for Alpha cock afterwards.

He likes to whisper it into Jack’s ears when they fuck; when Gabriel is right on the cusp of his heat and yowling for dick like a tomcat, hips loose and warm and arching permanently, begging his mate for a dicking that will silence the ringing in his ears.

Jack, for his part, thinks all of this is hilarious. He doesn’t mind walking in on his mate showing off to random Alphas, fucking his creamy cunt with three fingers and afterwards letting the poor boys lick the mess off. He even enjoys sitting in the same room and reading reports while the action is happening, smelling warm and calm like a much older Alpha, always assured in his bond to his mate.

This changes in part when Jesse McCree enters the picture.

Neither of them is really sure what makes them pause and take notice, as Jesse is as cocky and self-assured an Alpha as they come, but after the first encounter they know that they have to have him.

Jesse is only loud-mouthed right until the moment he is presented with an older, experienced Omega that shows off like a seasoned whore. He crumples like a wet tissue paper afterwards, and it is absolutely fascinating to watch. Endearing, even.

The first time Gabriel experiences Jesse submissively crawling up behind another Alpha to carefully lap at his balls and taint, Gabriel completely forgets about fucking himself on the toy he’s taken with him for the exact purpose of riling Alphas up, and just sits and stares, mouth slightly agape and heat flaring in his belly.

There’s something shellshocked about Jesse’s expression as he glances at Gabriel over the curve of the Alpha’s ass; like he can’t believe it himself, but he’s also not exactly stopping. The baby Alpha is clumsy and nervous but he does just about anything if it means that afterwards he gets to crawl between Gabriel’s thick thighs and mouth wet and sweet at the skin there, his big eyes glancing up reverently at the Omega.

The other Alphas don’t understand, but their rage only makes it sweeter when Gabriel slides farther down in his armchair and tugs Jesse to lap at his swollen, ready hole.

Gabriel hadn’t thought that he would find an Alpha like Jack again; someone he can mold and train, but here Jesse is, licking sweetly and not trying to mount Gabriel without permission.

A good little Alpha to be trained by Jack and himself into their perfect new mate.

Chapter Text

Jack watches Gabriel covertly from the corner of his eyes as they start undressing, each in their own corner of the room, the atmosphere loose and relaxed and a little drunk from all the wine they had consumed throughout the evening.

It’s been their night out, and while sitting across his husband, Jack hadn’t been able to focus on anything else but the breadth of Gabriel’s shoulders in the suit jacket he had donned, the length of his eyelashes that make him look shockingly sultry when he is not glaring at some poor recruits, and the light scattering of dark freckles against his brown skin.

Now, he can’t stop watching him still. There’s a delicious play of muscles across his back when he shucks his dark dress shirt to hang low in the crooks of his elbows while he opens the cufflinks with slow precision. Neither of them is in a hurry, of course, and both of them just buzzed enough to want to enjoy the rest of the evening as well.

Still, Jack finds himself struggling out of his clothes mindlessly so he can sit down on the edge of the bed – carefully and quietly so it wouldn’t creak – to simply sit and watch his husband undress.

Gabriel is… chunky, for lack of a better word. He is as tall as Jack, but broader in his whole stature which makes him seem shorter and more stocky. Jack had been more times on the receiving end of these thick muscles than he would actually like, but he can definitely appreciate their power.

The deadly precision with which Gabriel can wield his body if he so chooses.

Right now, all his movements are slow and soft. One time he turns to the side far enough that he should easily be able to see Jack sitting on the bed, but he does not look over. His bearded chin is against his collar bone, staring down his hairy torso to the last couple of buttons he is opening on his shirt.

His whole undressing process seems a bit uncoordinated but Jack is not calling him out on it. Not when that means he can sit and watch in quiet amazement as Gabriel’s thick belly moves with his slow, open-mouthed breaths. His stomach is covered in a solid wall of muscle – and fur – and Jack’s own belly twists in on itself as the need to touch him skyrockets.

Gabriel usually looks like he will rip any clothing he has donned, and Jack just can’t get enough of him. Mostly because all of that is his.

As Gabriel twists a little from left to right to drag his arms out of the sleeves of his dress shirt, the light of the bedside table lamp is briefly illuminating some more freckles that are scattered across the broad shoulders that Jack had been admiring all night long, as well as the dark, polished wood of the gauge in his ear – something he could only wear off duty.

Gabriel looks… good. Really good. His hair looks soft and perfect to be grabbed, and Jack can feel his cock taking notice immediately because they haven’t had a lot of time for each other the past few weeks and the sight of Gabriel undressing is something that is hard-wired in his brain at this point.

He leans back a little, bracing himself against the bed, thighs shuffling apart to give his cock room as it starts to slowly fill just from the innocent little show his husband is giving.

It is then that Gabriel finally takes notice of him, sitting there like a king, all smug and naked, and he pauses, bushy brows lifting.

“What,” he says flatly. He looks wholly unimpressed with all of Jack’s shit, but when Jack says: “Come,” and points with a finger on the floor between his feet, Gabriel still lets the dress shirt fall out of his hands and makes his way over like a well-trained puppy.

And damn if Jack doesn’t get off from the power rush that gives him; this strong man dancing to the tune that he plays.

He reaches out, slowly dragging his pale fingers against the dark hair liberally covering Gabriel’s belly in a broad strip down where it vanishes in his slacks. He can feel Gabriel’s heartbeat thumping against his palm when he presses it to the big artery there, but when he looks up, Gabriel looks calm. Maybe even a bit amused.

“Kneel,” Jack says, but there is a lilt to his voice that almost makes it a question. Still, Gabriel obeys after a brief twitch of the right side of his mouth. Jack has to spread his legs even farther for a brief moment before he changes his mind and stands up in front of Gabriel.

And God. The sight. Gabriel looking up at him with his dark eyes, all adoring and smug; the lower lashes so long and thick

Jack is practically standing over Gabriel, his fattening cock dangling just above his chin, but Gabriel is not reaching for it. He is just looking up. Waiting.

Jack can see himself reflected in Gabriel’s dark irises as a bright speck. 

“Something you want?” Gabriel says in a smooth rumble, all teasing, one side of his mouth lifted to show off the sharp edge of a canine.

“God, you’re so beautiful.” It blurts out of Jack before he can keep it in and Gabriel looks shocked for a second. His smug grin is wiped off of his face and his bushy brows pull down as he looks to the side.


Jack grunts and reaches down finally, grabbing into the longer hair on top of Gabriel’s head to pull his face back into position while his other fist curls around his cock.

He lifts it and even before he can give any instructions, Gabriel’s mouth falls open and he sticks his tongue out.

“Light. 25%,” Jack calls out roughly because he needs to see this properly. As the light around the room pops on dimly, he slaps the bright pink tip of his cock against Gabriel’s offered tongue.

His foreskin is covering most of it still but he’s not helping it along. It’ll manage to push out by itself quick enough.

He pops the tip between Gabriel’s lips again and again while staring down at him and holding his head still. He doesn’t give Gabriel a moment of reprieve and he can feel the heat radiating off of his cheeks.

His freckles are dark spots against his cheek bones and across the bridge of his nose and Jack focuses on them as his breathing becomes more labored.

He doesn’t give Gabriel an option to properly suck his cock. Instead he makes a big old mess of it all, smearing the spit-and-pre-cum covered tip against Gabriel’s mustache and slapping it against the sides of his cheeks. Wiping it off against his chin.

The hair of his beard is soft and warm against his skin as he polishes his cock with it, and Gabriel’s thick brows are drawn together with dismay because there is little that Reyes loves more than sucking dick.

He looks almost upset, right until the point that Jack finally starts jerking off while aiming his cock right at his husband’s face.

Gabriel just about manages to close his eyes before the first hot splash hits him right between them. He is breathing heavily, the air puffing out of him and ruffling Jack’s thick pubes as he makes sure to splash thick cum against Gabriel’s cheek bones.

The first few drops he smears there with the tip of his dick.

Gabriel looks… messy. And lovely. His eyes are big and glittering as he finally opens them to look up at Jack once more, cum dripping down his cheeks.

“MMM… Love coming on those freckles,” Jack slurs with a stupid grin on his face. Gabriel doesn’t say anything; just kneels and looks breathtaking.

Chapter Text

They’ve hidden away on one of the plateaus surrounding Zora’s domain. It is not a foolproof hiding spot, but the Zora don’t usually make it a habit to swim up the waterfall, so they think they are suitably safe to fool around.

It also adds a good bit of excitement that especially Link always seems to need. His cheeks now are at least an adorable red that is almost akin to Sidon’s scales as he swings one leg over the prince’s lap to straddle him while they sit on the beach, Sidon leaning against a large boulder and his legs still in the water.

Link is not nearly as tall as Sidon, but he moves with a kind of authority that has the Zora prince shudder and stay as still as possible. He has his big hands curled around Link’s waist, fingers easily touching as he nervously lifts his chin because Link has found interest at the tender little slits of his gills at the sides of it.

He presses his lips together, his belly swooping and nervous. When outside the water he doesn’t even use them, but there is something primitively nerve wracking about having another’s lips on them, blocking them from the possibility of fluttering open.

Of course, Link notices his fluttering nerves, and only doubles down on it. He always thinks the most dangerous things are the ones most exciting, and as he presses closer, opening his mouth to barely suckle on the impossibly delicate gills, he also presses his naked hylian cock against Sidon’s lower belly – a twin sensation that has the Zora’s head spinning. He squawks out an awkward tone; somewhere between a scratchy laugh and a shout.

His fingers spasm against Link, the sharp claws he sports nicking him in places. He can immediately smell the blood, even if it is just a bit of a trickle. It is still enough to get his heart pumping with keen interest, the world mildly tilting on its axis as he can feel his manners slip away somewhat, replaced by the need to mount and fuck and bite his mate lovingly until he can taste their blood on his tongue…

He does not do the mounting, though. Link is still in charge and he shows it with a calm dominance that easily makes Sidon submit.

He is still pressing kisses against the gills at Sidon’s neck, but he is also touching the ones at the sides of his rib cage. He carefully pinches one flap between thumb and forefinger and lifts it a bit so when he pulls away from Sidon’s neck he can lean down and peer with interest and the wet, brick red insides of his gills.

It is such a… lewd and intimate gesture that Sidon lifts one hand and places it on his heated face, fingers spread so the delicate webbing between allows him for maximum privacy as he just breathes real quick into the palm of his hand and tries not to become too excited from Link being so delightfully… rude.

He jerks and gasps when Link gently tugs at the gills, and he can’t help but flare them a little in response.

Sidon feels all… weird. A little fuzzy, maybe. Like he’s eaten one of Link’s more exotic concoctions that aren’t really meant for consumption by a regular stomach. A stomach which, Sidon realizes dimly as he leans back against the large boulder and stares up into the crown of a tree, is filled with the warmest sea water. It is sloshing about slowly, deliciously, hypnotizingly, and warming all his extremities as well as seeping out wet and sticky from his sheath.

At least that’s what it feels like. It is weird that he is starting to drip even before his cocks are trying to emerge, but apparently that’s what he gets for letting this Hylian Champion carefully lick at his gills and pinch them and be overall just a little… mean.

His slick smells intensely of salt and musk, so it is not long until Link pulls back and looks down with interest. His face lights up in a bright grin that has Sidon shudder and more of the magma filling his belly seeping out of the tender little slit that his cocks usually slip out from.

Link reaches down, and Sidon does not know why he expects him to carefully let his pink little digits slip up and down his sheath, but he is still surprised when Link rudely hooks his fingers into the plump slit and opens it up to let more slimy slick drip out in an embarrassing burst that soaks between the prince’s thighs.

He gasps – like a fish out of water.

His hands are scrabbling at the little Hylian; grabbing his shoulders, his upper arms, his thighs, but Link is very much undaunted by the sharp claws adorning his fingers. He is much more interested in fucking his fingers into the slit with a rude force that produces lewd squelching sounds.

Sidon is not sure what his cocks are doing, but they are still soft and rolled up neatly, and Link’s mean little fingers are pushing and prodding against them and slipping into the silky wet folds that they create, curled up so sweetly together.

Link has honed his innocence into a weapon at this point. He smiles at Sidon all sweet and dimpled while rudely fucking his sheath with two fingers, completely unarming the Zora prince.

He spreads the pink rim of the slit far apart and peers into the slick red mess inside and all Sidon can do is sob and gnaw at his own lower arm because his gums ache to bite at something.

His skin is tough enough to withstand the razor sharp points of his teeth, and the sensation of biting something and being bitten in turn at least takes some of the edge off. Link is driving him insane with his thorough inspections of Sidon’s body.

And then Link shuffles closer and manages to slip his cock into that sweet slit he’s opened up for himself.

Sidon gasps, body shuddering with electricity – the good kind that doesn’t kill him instantly.

Link curls his strong arms around Sidon’s neck. He is not quite tall enough to neatly reach up to Sidon’s face but when he tilts his head back and opens up his gasping mouth, Sidon leans eagerly down to kiss him.

It is an awkward position they are in; his sheath is not quite where a Hylian’s reproductive organs are, but Link isn’t daunted by it. He still humps and fucks, his cock slipping between Sidon’s twin dicks which feel hot and tingly like they do when they are hard and slipped out from his body – except now they stay submissively curled and act as a faux cunt for Link to breed.

Everything is wet and slimy and squelching, and it only gets worse when Link comes. He does so while they are kissing, sucking and gently biting at Sidon’s big, broad tongue while he bucks and shudders and sighs out through his nose.

He pumps Sidon’s sheath full of cum, and if that weren’t enough to trigger Sidon’s own orgasm, his blunt little teeth in his tongue surely are. It is a weird, otherworldly experience to come without his cocks ever becoming any resemblance of hard.

They still pump out their load, easily overflowing his sheath and dripping down between Sidon’s trembling thighs where they coat his cloaca with the mess.

Good thing they are close to the water.

Chapter Text

When Jack comes for the second time he slows his punishingly hard thrusts down into a slow, sensual drag.

Gabriel is lying on his belly, forearms braced against the mattress as he breathes through his teeth with closed eyes, brows drawn together into a severe frown. His rim feels like it is swollen to roughly double its size, clinging to Jack’s cock for dear life as he just… keeps on moving; fucking and pushing the previous two loads into Gabriel’s guts.

He does not get any semblance of soft, just needs a few moments to catch his breath and have the oversensitivity recede before he can resume deep dicking Gabriel until he howls.

Of course Gabriel has come as well already; his cock is being dragged minimally through the mess he’s made, but neither of them wants to stop and relocate just so Gabriel is no longer lying in the wet spot.

It is disgusting, probably, but they’re both too old to give a shit about what others might say… especially since others won’t ever know just how enduring Jack Morrison is when it is about rawing his old boyfriend.

SEP has happened a million years ago – at the very least it feels like it – but it just sticks to their bones, apparently.

Jack fucks like he’s fucked a lifetime ago; more mechanical now that his body has learned how to get his dick wet and just goes on autopilot, but Gabriel can appreciate that very much because Jack has learned how to please Gabriel; at what angle he needs to take him to get him off most efficiently, and how fast and deep he needs to be in order to make him howl.

Right now they are both breathing loud and labored in the little room, sweat pearling along their spines as the air becomes stiflingly hot and thick from the smell of bodies and sex. It becomes difficult to breathe but neither of them is in a mood to pause what they are doing to open a window.

Jack leans down and presses his face into the back of Gabriel’s neck. His hips keep pumping slow and rhythmical; an old engine that might not run smoothly but very much reliably.

“Ready for more?” he rasps. His voice is rough as usual. It feels like it is rubbing up right against Gabriel’s exposed nerve endings and the sensation pulses through him and ends simultaneously in the tight grip of his raw rim and the wet head of his cock slipping through his own mess.

“W-Wait,” he grunts. He lets his head fall forward, though not quite touching the mattress between his forearms with his forehead. He needs to focus on slipping his thighs a bit apart and opening himself up for the next round of fucking.

It’s been good at first, when they’ve both been so hot for it Gabriel felt like exploding; when he needed the painful burn of Jack force fucking his dick into his dry hole, but now he feels like he needs to shuffle his legs apart until his knees are at his ribcage; trying to ease some of the burn and the impossible feeling of fullness.

He doesn’t have enough strength left in him to actually pull through with it, so he just shuffles his thick thighs apart as much as possible. It makes Jack’s cock feel a little less impossibly fat spreading his swollen rim open.

“Alright… now…”

Jack chuckles and presses a few open-mouthed, wet kisses against the back of his neck.


Gabriel rolls his eyes while heat pulses through his body from the soles of his feet to the top of his head.

“Shut up and do your work,” he grunts back. Jack chuckles some more like the asshole that he is but thankfully doesn’t comment further.

Instead he hoists himself back up onto his hands with a grunt of his own. There is a moment of nothing happening at all as the old man seems to gather his bearings and make sure he won’t just collapse back down onto Gabriel – and then he resumes.

His pace is jarring after the slow rocking from before, and Gabriel makes a sound just shy of howling when he’s being pumped with cock in a sharp staccato that makes his body light up and his toes tingle.

Jack’s breathing is a harsh sound above him; a quick, labored panting as he powers himself through the task of fucking his own cum back out of Gabriel in a frothy mess. It sounds like it is more work than it is fun and for some weird reason that gets Gabriel going even more.

The thought that Jack will fuck Gabriel as long as he wants and demands it has his brain pulsing between his temples.

His hole feels impossibly sensitive. The cum Jack has deposited in his intestines is slicking the way somewhat and taking the edge off of the painful burn that had been spreading throughout Gabriel’s body until it felt like it was just tickling at the back of his throat, trying to make him bawl like a babe.

The way they fuck is harsh and punishing; it has always been this way – and it is exactly what Gabriel needs most of the time. He needs Jack to put him through his paces until he is babbling and teary eyed. He needs him to raw his hole until he can’t sit for three days straight without being reminded of how good his man has given it to him.

His cock is feeling as sensitive and swollen as his hole, sliding through the mess he’s made earlier and being trapped deliciously between the bed and Gabriel’s belly. His weight combined with the pounding that drills him into the mattress is balancing the fine knife edge of pleasure and pain.

Jack pumps into him relentlessly for some five minutes, just their harsh breathing to be heard in the sweltering little room – and then Jack changes his angle minimally and Gabriel just… collapses and combusts at the same time.

His prostate is suddenly in the equation and he howls as he angles his ass up into the dicking and his face down into the bedding to somehow stop himself from screaming the whole base together.

Jack is laughing above him, he thinks. It sounds a little crazy but there it is; a rough tattoo against Gabriel’s shoulder blades as Jack lies back down on top of him to crush him into the bedding and prevent any escape plans before they can form in Gabriel’s brain that feels like it is cooking in his skull.

Just him on top of his old lover, his hips on a slow rotation as he grinds himself in and fucks an orgasm out of Gabriel that is almost a second thought after the way Gabriel’s whole body feels like it is a firework.

His nerve endings are shooting in all different directions, his fingers tingling and his toes cramping, and the whole world whiting out for one blinding, brilliant second.

His face is wet when he comes to again but he can’t bring himself to be embarrassed about it.

Jack just kisses his wet cheeks and hums long and happy.

Chapter Text

Gabriel snorts awake after the third jab into his ribs, body aching and confused at having had its sleep interrupted like this.


Next to him is a hot wall of muscle pressed up against his side. Slowly he becomes aware of a large hand around his wrist, not-so-subtly guiding his slack hand along a raging erection.

“Oh my God,” he groans, throwing his other hand up and across his eyes. His sleepy voice is a thing out of nightmares – he’s not shy to admit that himself – but the cock in his lax grip is still jumping eagerly.

“Morrison you-”

Jack mouths wet and needy at Gabriel’s ear.


“Oh my Gooood,” Gabriel reiterates but does tighten his fingers around his husband’s erection just so he would be let back to sleep more quickly.


He’s being shaken awake and this time the first thing he feels is a cock rutting against the meat of his ass. Jack has teased his sleep pants down to just underneath the swell of it and is trying his damn best not to fuck Gabriel before he hasn’t properly woken up.

Gabriel would rather he gets his dirty business over with without waking him. He is almost concerned by how horny a man Jack’s age can be.


The next time, Gabriel jerks around and curls his hand around Jack’s throat.

“I swear to fucking God, Morrison,” he growls, barely even able to open his eyes. He can only make Jack out as a white-and-vaguely pink blob. “Don’t fucking wake me up for this shit! You can roll me over and dick me for all I care, but don’t. Wake me. Again.”

“Roger,” comes Jack’s croaking reply as he fights for air.


Jack’s walking around base pink cheeked like a little boy, throwing Gabriel little not-so-secret glances, and all Gabriel can do is roll his eyes and pretend like he’s not a bit… excited about the prospect of being asleep while Jack does whatever he wants to him.

It’s a trust exercise that’s wrapped in the premise of Gabriel just wanting to sleep one night without having to tend to the needs of his inexorably horny husband, but in reality he spends some extra time in the bathroom just getting his hole wet with lube and shoving it inside himself a bit as well.

Just a little.

He doesn’t want to seem too eager.

When he comes out of the bathroom he is a bit confused to find that Jack is no longer there. He’s been walking in just moments before Gabriel had made his leave, tapping away on a tablet in his hand, brows drawn together in focus, and now he is just gone.

Gabriel rolls his eyes, annoyed once more, but maybe this is for the best. It would be really ironic if now of all nights he wouldn’t be able to sleep because he is too horny thinking about what Jack could get up to while he is out cold.

He adjusts his half-hard cock some in his loose sleep pants and slips beneath the blanket.

His worry about not being able to sleep is dashed when within the next ten minutes he is snoring softly, hugging a large pillow to his chest because that’s how he sleeps best.


Jack’s heart his hammering fast as he walks around the bed and watches Gabriel from all sides and angles. On the foot of the bed he’s placed a tray that’s deep enough to be filled with water, and in this water are lying six gelatinous eggs.

He’s pretty sure Gabriel hasn’t had being stuffed with eggs while he’s asleep in mind, but Jack feels like he’s waited for… a long time for an opportunity like this, and if this is only chance of seeing his husband’s belly bulge with something he’s deposited inside of him, then he’ll take it and run with it.

Gabriel would be mad in the morning, but he at least wouldn’t kill him. He thinks.

God, Gabriel looks good. Jack can’t get enough of the curvy line of his sleeping husband; the way his ass seems to be tilted back for a fucking just all the time, the fat cheeks so touchable in the threadbare sleepwear that Gabriel likes to don.

Gabriel is a surprisingly deep sleeper. It had been an effort getting him awake the nights before, so Jack does not pay particular care to not wake him as he hooks his fingers into the waistband and drags it down until it is tangled somewhere around Gabriel’s knees.

Jack has to pause then, breathing into his palm because the sight of Gabriel’s fat cock lying there against one thick thigh, soft and calm, is… good. Really good.

He can’t get over how chunky Gabriel is. How sturdy. How Jack can drill into him as hard as he pleases and Gabriel just kneels and takes all the abuse with enthusiasm.

Jack is… a lucky man. An incredibly lucky man.

A man that is so hard pressed to fucking his husband that before he even considers bringing the eggs into the game he gently rolls Gabriel until he is mostly on his front and he can pull one of the fat cheeks to the side. His hole is wet.

He’s been anticipating this.

Jack whines softly, biting his lip hard and clamping fingers around the base of his cock to keep from coming on the spot because his husband is perfect.

He’ll fuck him. And then he’ll fill him.

Egg after egg he’ll slip into his sloppy, fucked-out cunt. He’ll fill him up until he is groaning in his sleep with the strain of his belly. And maybe, afterwards, he’ll fuck him again. Push another mess of cum into his loose hole and root around in his hot, slippery guts dick first.

Tease the eggs into slipping even deeper up into his guts.

It will be good. So good.


Gabriel feels… full, when he wakes.

He is disoriented to the max, goosebumps immediately lifting along his spine when he feels eyes on him. When he moves, trying to whip around and see whoever is staring at him, he immediately freezes and groans.

There’s been a spurt of… liquid that’s not dripping down the back of one thigh and embarrassed heat is swamping him as his first horrified thought is that he’s had an... accident. At his age.

Then his arm curls around his swollen middle and the world really doesn’t make any sense anymore.

HIs belly is bloated and full, and pieces are slowly but very neatly fitting in place.

He’s gone to sleep allowing Jack to fuck him.

And now he’s waking up feeling like a pregnant mother cow.

“Morrison,” he groans, holding his belly and trying very carefully to roll onto his side from the awkward half-lie-on-his-belly. “What the fuck did you do?”

He wants it to sound more harsh but it is just a pathetic whine.

Jack is at his back in an instant, breathing heavy and obnoxious right in his ear.

“Don’t be mad,” he starts, and it immediately makes Gabriel mad. “...But I filled you with some… stuff… You can… you can wait until it dissolves or you can… Y’know, they are magnetic and hang on to each other so if you were to… press them down until I can grab one, I could…”

Gabriel’s ears are burning hot. His hole feels swollen and oversensitive in the way it only feels when Jack has fucked him tirelessly for a considerable amount of time, but the thing he feels poking in the small of his back can only be his erection again.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he whines, high pitched and pathetic.

Jack is – wisely – quiet.

Chapter Text

“A-Alright. You… you fuckin’ won, tincan.”

Gavin is wiping his hands against the fronts of his thighs, trying to get some of the moisture off as he turns his back towards Nines who has just wandered out of the bathroom after his routine maintenance.

“What are you talking about this time, Detective?” Nines’ voice is perfectly modulated to express mild annoyance as to the human’s antics – as if he didn’t know perfectly well what his carefully crafted hoax has been designed to trigger in his partner.

Gavin keeps his back turned to him. He leans forward, planting his palms on the kitchen table with such force that the rickety structure rattles. He lets his head sink forward somewhat and lifts his shoulders defensively around his ears.

“Don’t play fuckin’ dumb with me, asshole!” he snaps but it sounds weak and a bit nervous. “Just… get on with it, alright?”


Nines wanders closer slowly, weight perfectly distributed as to not make a sound. He can detect how much that stresses Gavin out; his pulse speeds up by 18%.

Nines has to dismiss a few annoying popups on his HUD as sensors that don’t usually are stimulated by air suddenly online. He has opted out of bringing clothes with him into the bathroom, after all.

He steps close up behind Gavin, his long fingered hands slowly but deliberately curling around Gavin’s slim hips. He makes every point of contact count. Gavin is tensing at the touch, his fingers trying to curl against their palms despite them still pressed to the plastic of the table.

Next, Nine’s hips hit the curve of the Detective’s ass. It is a bit meager but even he is sporting some meat that provides a nice cushion against the Android’s hard exterior. His cock is snuggled between the cheeks despite the threadbare barrier.

For a second it seems as if the Detective will hyperventilate, but then he just gets himself back under control.

“Come on,” he rasps. “Do it.”

Nines smiles slowly. He is very pleased with how his plot worked out. It had been easy, really; just find an excuse to regularly show himself naked in front of the erratic Detective. A model such as he needing regular daily maintenance… laughable.

Humans were so… cute.

Nines curls his long fingers into the waistband of the Detective’s pyjama pants and drag them down until they sit just below the curve of his little ass.

Gavin is panting with an open mouth. His ears are a bright red, and through the reflection in the microwave Nines can see that he has clenched his eyes shut tightly. He looks like he is preparing for… something; something probably very unpleasant, and Nines shakes his head in amusement.

He spreads Gavin’s ass with both thumbs and glances down. Cute. A peach pink virgin hole just for him to ravage. It looks tight and quivering and is surprisingly hairless. A more thorough inspection confirms: the Detective likes to shave himself here more than in his face which is even now sporting a perpetual, slightly messy stubble.

The Detective has stopped breathing. He is stock still on the spot. His little muscle is clenched tightly; unused to the inspection of another.

When Nines tilts his hips forward and slots his erection neatly between the cheeks, Gavin makes a weird squawking sound; somewhere between an alarmed outcry and… Nines is not sure what.

“W-What are you doin’?” Reed hisses when he feels how Nines has snuggled the length of his cock along his crack, and is, in fact, not trying to spear his cute little hole open on the blunt tip.

Nines doesn’t say anything. The silent treatment usually works best to coax Gavin out of his shell. He reaches up and places his hand between the man’s shoulder blades, right on top of the silly cartoon cat that seems to be present on all his sleep wear in some way or another.

He presses, and Gavin goes down without a fight.

“Ah.. uh.. okay?”

He has to comment everything, but Nines does not exactly mind. It lets him keep track of where the Detective is mentally; and he can’t deny that he enjoys the nervous vibration of Reed’s voice as he tries his best to sound tough and no-nonsense but can’t hide how very overwhelmed he is with the whole experience.

He goes down on his elbows, inadvertently sticking out his behind for Nines to better drag his cock along his crack in slow, rocking thrusts. He is testing the water, and Gavin is reacting beautifully even if he is still babbling and confused.

“The fuck are you doin’? Do you need landin’ lights or some shit? The fuck, tincan?!”

Nines still doesn’t say anything. His eyes flick to a little notification on the HUD, giving the lubricant deployment permission to work, and moments later bluish, thick liquid starts to seep from a very thin vent just beneath his artificially molded glans.

The Detective’s voice breaks multiple times in a very amusing way when he comments this new development.

“What the fuck are you DOIN’?! Holy FUCK what IS that?!”

He wants to shoot up and twist his upper body around to try and have a look at what is so silky wet dripping into his crack, but Nines’ hand is there seemingly even before he can form the thought and is slamming him back down, this time making him lie his upper body on the cheap plastic of his kitchen table.

He can hear the oof of the air leaving Gavin’s lungs from the impact, but his hand stays where it is between his shoulder blades, unwavering and firm.


He answers calm and unaffected but he is anything but. His sensors are picking up on all the little details that Gavin’s body is giving him, and they are… delicious. The delicate rise of his temperature; the nervous rabbit hopping of his heart. The slight wheezing of his breath.

Nines is slowly rocking, gently dragging his cock along Gavin’s crack, and Gavin becomes very quiet and non-combative.

There’s a sweet little suctioning sound when his virgin hole is clenching and unclenching against the android’s hard shaft. It is drenched with lube by now and flushed an endearing red – not unlike Gavin’s ears which seem to be glowing in the dim twilight of his small, dirty kitchen.

“C-C’mon… I… I can t-take it…”

His breathing is labored, his cheek pressed against the kitchen table and his eyes glassy and uncoordinated as he tries to help but only manages to awkwardly hump backwards and make the lube smear against his ass cheeks.

Nines rolls his eyes, but he also doesn’t find it in himself to stop this idiotic human, so he lets him virgin hump backwards and try to drag his hungry hole against the warm, silky hard shaft of the android’s erection.

He starts to make soft sounds; breathy moans that Nines is not accustomed to hearing from him and drawn-out whines that Nines has a billion saved away because at the end of the day Detective Gavin Reed is a whiny bitch.

He seems to enjoy himself, at least. Thoroughly, if Nines were to hazard a guess (which he is not in the business of).

When he suddenly stutters to a halt, choking on his own breathy little moan, it takes both of them by surprise.

Nines had known that he would be sensitive, but he couldn’t have guessed just how sensitive that sweet virgin hole would be to any kind of stimulation.

“Oh fuck, oh God, oh… oh… d-don’t look!” Gavin sobs as he comes sudden and almost violent, his untouched cock jerking out thick ropes of cum against the kitchen floor.

He’ll have to make Gavin clean that up later. But for now, he is busy recording Detective’s First Dicking.

Chapter Text

Reyes stands off to the side, tablet in hand, slowly turning the dial that is displayed on the left side of the screen, and the hardlight plateau McCree is balancing on slowly starts to lower itself on that side.

McCree yelps and throws him a look that makes Reyes smirk and come closer. He reaches up and rips at the side of the gag until it comes off.

“What’s up? Not enjoying yourself?”

“The hell?! Of course not! I demand my lawyer!”

Reyes just lets his gaze wander down McCree’s body, watching the heaving of his surprisingly hairy chest, down the trembling, equally hirsute belly, and ending at his cock, standing painfully erect from a forest of pubes.

A nice, stocky cock that’s more on the girthy side and that Reyes has to admit – even if just to himself – looks pretty tasty.

Still, he keeps his face calm and unimpressed, and McCree predictably starts spluttering and flushes a dark ruddy red.

“That… that doesn’t mean nothin’! Stick somethin’ up a guy’s ass and he’ll get a stiffie!”

Reyes snorts at that and slowly starts to play with the dial on the right sight of his display.

McCree’s eyes seem to almost pop out of their sockets as he is lowered a little deeper onto the hook he is sitting on. His biceps bunch up and he struggles against the sleeves holding his forearms together behind his back.

There’s nowhere he can go, really, other than down to nicely spear himself on the blunted, fat end of the hook like a Christmas goose and the desperate frustration in his face shows that he knows it, too.

“Eye for an eye, McCree. Does that ring a bell for you?”

McCree shakes his head violently to get the long, filthy strands out of his face. Sweat sprays everywhere, and he reminds Reyes of a stallion – or, more accurately, of a stray mutt. A coyote from the desert.

“But you’re like… police or somethin’ are you not? Shouldn’t ya stand over some silly little… things like that?”

“Something like that. Yes,” Reyes answers amused. He turns away to grab the lone chair in the room standing with a small table and drags it over so he can sit in front of McCree and get comfortable.

“I’m not really police, though, and we’re all alone in this room. No cameras and witnesses. Unlike, I might add, when I have been in your care and been paraded out in the middle of the Gorge.”

He smiles at him lazily while stretching out one leg and bracing it against the left hardlight tower that McCree is balancing on. It is thin enough to immediately start tilting precariously when he begins putting a bit of pressure against it, and McCree cries out in alarm, fat drops of sweat starting to spring up along his hairline.

The look McCree throws him when Gabriel’s words sink in is a gaze that Reyes has already seen a million times: hope of rescue slowly waning.

“Listen-” he starts nervously but is immediately interrupted by Reyes.

“No, you listen, McCree. You’re getting off pretty easy, if I do say so myself. Literally, if I might add.”

He nudges against the hardlight pillar again, making McCree wobble and causing the hook that is attached to the ceiling ding a bit deeper into his squishy, sensitive insides. McCree gurgles, his cock jerking and a pearl of pre-cum slowly forming at the tip half-hidden inside McCree’s dusky foreskin.

“You’re a bastard,” McCree whines, but Gabriel does not feel particularly bothered by it. He pulls his leg away, for now, and focuses on playing with the dials – giving McCree more slack to let his undoubtedly tense insides relax before letting him back down again until he has to pull up on the balls of his feet, his surprisingly long legs stretched out to their max, thick thighs trembling as he tries to keep still and not topple off the hardlight pillars.

The hook is safe, of course, but he can see the fear in McCree’s face whenever he feels that he is starting to have to angle his ass back in order to not get suspended in mid-air.

Reyes smirks.

“What is… what do you even want from me?” McCree suddenly whines. He has the body of a man and the mind of a recalcitrant child. Gabriel can barely believe that he has been one of the heads of the Deadlock gang. Then again, he’s been under the kid’s thumb a few months back. He’s been a lot different back then; when it’s him that’s having his boot on another guy’s throat.

He doesn’t take well to swapping things up, it seems.

“I just want my fun, McCree. Nothing more. Nothing less.”

Gabriel stands abruptly and feels a shiver of anticipation racing down his spine when McCree cries out like a child at the sudden motion.

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a length of black fabric. He has to stretch a bit but it is not difficult to wrap it around McCree’s eyes. He even takes care not to snatch any hair as he carefully knots it behind his head.

McCree is trembling like a colt. There is sweat glistening on the surface of the hardlight pillars and Gabriel knows that he doesn’t have to do much more until McCree will simply slip and fall.

“I’m no bad guy. See? Ah… Alright you can’t. Wait a second – I’ll do you a favor.”

He hums softly beneath his breath while he works. The hook with the fat rubber tip gets unhooked from the ceiling and then pulled from McCree’s hole. His cunt keeps gaping afterwards, the rim swollen and glinting wet with lube. It’s… really tasty looking, but that’s not what Gabriel is here for.

McCree is already relaxing and babbling his thanks, not seeing that Gabriel is merely elongating the rope a little that the hook is dangling from and changes the hook up into an even fatter version.

His babbling ceases immediately the moment he feels it nudging against his gaping, fluttering hole.

Gabriel had planned on helping him along by tickling him – or maybe throwing a goddamn fucking apple at his head – but he doesn’t need to do any more than stand back and watch the magic happen as McCree starts to dance around trying to dislodge the barely-there tip of the toy nudging him open.

As Gabriel had predicted, the slippery surface of the hardlight pillars is McCree’s downfall. Literally.

He twists too much, not seeing a thing with the blindfold on, and his right foot slips off of the pillar that clatters without a sound to the floor. The other leg follows immediately.

McCree cries out in shock and what he thinks has to be pain. His toes are dangling just-so off the floor, unbeknownst to him as he is speared on the fat rubber end of the hook.

Gabriel’s eyelids lower to half-mast as he stands off to the side, arms crossed in front of his chest, cock pulsing in his heavy combat pants as he watches an arc of cum fly through the air and splattering against the floor.

McCree is coming without him even registering that he is doing it. He’s just whimpering and insisting that he is in unimaginable pain while his body contracts and twitches and convulses through an orgasm that does not seem to stop.

When there is finally just a dribble of cum running down his ruddy red cock, McCree finally falls silent, panting and just accepting his fate as he sits on the hook spearing into him.

“Oh…” he pants after a couple minutes of complete silence in which he apparently takes stock of what his body has been telling him the whole time.

Gabriel rolls his eyes.