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In the heat of battle Hanzo had little time to concentrate on much else but keeping himself and his teammates alive. So it is easy to imagine that someone could have slipped a new type of arrow in his quiver without his noticing. Focused as he was on being McCree’s backup, he didn’t notice the little pink arrow tipped with a heart and fletched with white and red feathers was even there. Not even when it was in his hands, knocked, aimed, and ready to fire, did he notice.
Only when it ricocheted off of the wall next to McCree and hit the cowboy in the arm, causing him to topple over onto the ground in surprise, did Hanzo see the flash of pink and red. Both men shouted in alarm, McCree more in pain than panic. Hanzo jumped down from the ledge of the building and rolled to stop his fall from causing him any lasting damage. McCree didn’t move. Hanzo was quick to pick off any remaining enemies, shouting out as he summoned his spirit dragons to fight for him.
McCree was groaning when the archer reached him, rolling onto his side and huffing. At first Hanzo thought it was just in pain, and he left delicate touches all up the man’s arm to find the arrowhead that should have been lodged in the cowboy’s flesh (the shaft had broken off when McCree fell) but was surprised when he felt nothing.
Hanzo cupped the man’s head to get a better look at him, “McCree, are you okay?”
Jesse’s face was flushed and his hat had fallen off of his head and onto the concrete between the two men. But something was off. The cowboy didn’t look at all like he was in pain. His eyes watered, and shivers wracked his body as he reached for Hanzo, hand sliding down the other man’s face.
“Please,” he rasped.
The archer took McCree’s hand, holding it away from his cheek. The sound of footsteps met his ears and he knew it was only a matter of time before Talon found them again. “We have to get you somewhere safe.”
“Please, Hanzo. Please,”
Hanzo shushed him, strapping his bow to his back and picking up McCree’s hat only to shove it into the other man’s hands. “Hold this,” he said. And then McCree was being lifted with a grunt of effort by Hanzo.
“Didn’ know you were so strong,” McCree slurred, leaning his face against Hanzo’s chest, lips brushing against the bared skin. “Shit, you drive me mad,”
Hanzo ignored the blush rising onto his face, “Stop that, we can talk when we get somewhere safe.”
“Oh, but talkin’ ain’t what I got in mind-”
He was cut off when shouts sounded a few streets down. Hanzo cursed, tossed McCree over his shoulder, and broke out in a run. McCree pawed at him, whimpering with each bouncing step the archer took. One of his hands grasped at Hanzo’s backside.
“Now is not the time, Jesse,” Hanzo said.
A bullet whizzed past his ear. Hanzo ducked into a sidestreet, breath puffing out in rugged bursts. He dropped McCree, placing him against the brick wall behind a garbage can to give the prone man at least some cover, and ignored his needy whines. He turned on his comms, notched a scatter arrow, and aimed at the end of the street.
“Winston, we are in need of extraction. McCree and I are pinned.”
Static met his ear. He grit his teeth, heart pounding.
“Repeat, we require extraction. I do not know how long I can--”
A Talon agent rounded the corner. Hanzo fired, watched the arrow break and scatter, hitting the first agent and the one behind him. Five more appeared; Hanzo fumbled with his bow, dropped an arrow in his panic.
“It’s high noon,”
Five shots in succession and it was all over. Hanzo gasped for breath, nearly fell over against the garbage can when McCree grabbed his arm and pulled him back against his chest. The cowboy was panting as if he had been the one running and carrying a man through the streets rather than Hanzo. Another shiver wracked Jesse’s body.
“McCree?”
He groaned and pressed his face into Hanzo’s neck, nipping at the skin there. Hanzo moved to push him away but was stopped when the other man’s firm arms slid around his middle.
“You’re sweet’re than a peach, honey. Don’ think I can wait ‘til we get back--”
Hanzo felt his heart rate pick up once more, but this time it wasn’t the threat of Talon that had him anxious. “Jesse, we need to get out of here,” he said without any real conviction.
Jesse made a noise in the back of his throat and was about to speak when the comms crackled to life and Winston finally replied, asking for their coordinates.
“Are either of you hurt?” The scientist asked.
McCree slumped against Hanzo’s shoulder, eyes glazed and a lazy smile growing on his face.
“McCree got hit with an arrow. It… had some sort of poison on it. Nonlethal, I think.”
“One of your arrows?”
“Yes. No. I do not know. I think someone placed it in my quiver. I thought it was one of my scatter arrows,”
Winston hummed, sounding both concerned and curious. Of course he’s curious, Hanzo thought, he is a scientist, after all. “Just sent evac your way. Try and stay out of sight, there are more agents out there.”
Hanzo glanced back at Jesse, who was now distracting him by running his hands up and down his sides. The archer slapped the man’s hands away and pulled out of his grip, “Stop that, McCree. We are in the middle of a mission, this is no time for games.”
Pouting, Jesse reached for him once more, only to be hit lightly by the increasingly grumpy and blushing archer. “Darlin,’ I ain’t the one playin’ games with your heart,”
Hanzo was about to berate him for his behavior (though he admitted he did quite like the attention) when there was a shuffling of feet at the mouth of the alleyway. He yanked McCree down behind the garbage can once more and crouched next to him. He notched an arrow on his bow and peeked his head out to try and get a good look at who was there.
A hand found its way on his lower back, curled against the smooth cloth and pressed down to feel the firm muscles. Hanzo scowled and looked back to see McCree’s flushed and sweaty face. Definitely drugged, he thought. More shuffling from the end of the alley drew the archer’s attention back to the task at hand and he forced himself to calm the heavy beating of his heart. There was no one there; just silence and dead bodies. But he didn’t allow himself to let his guard down.
McCree’s hand shifted lower, massaging the tense knots that had formed in his boyfriend’s back from being out on the field for so long. “Y’need to relax, Hanz,” he rumbled, “Ain’t no one left after that bunch, I reckon.”
Hanzo wanted to glare, wanted to scowl and push him away but McCree’s hands were comforting and warm. He ached for the mission to be over, for evac to hurry up. But even then, we won’t be able to be alone for perhaps the whole night. He settled back against McCree’s open palm. There will be the debriefing and the medical check ups with Dr. Ziegler and both have the potential to take hours, especially with McCree’s… condition. Hanzo sighed, closed his eyes and mentally cursed himself for falling for such a hopeless man. He grabbed his boyfriend’s hand, and began to tug him out of the alley.
“Woah there, darlin,’” the smirk in Jesse’s voice was evident. He knew he had won, even in his drug-addled state.
After some serious recon, Hanzo knew this area like the back of his hand and had no trouble finding a secluded area he felt was safe enough to stay in. The apartment was small, emptied after Overwatch had evacuated the civilians right as the mission started, but cozy. It looked new, barely lived in. Hanzo released McCree’s hand as he began locking windows and shutting blinds.
“What happened to the mission?” Jesse teased, stumbling over to Hanzo, yelping when the other man shoved him up against the door. The archer’s eyes were dark, glinting dangerously in the low lighting of the borrowed apartment room. “Hanzo,” he gasped, wiggling his hips, trying to close the remainder of the distance between the two and failing when he was only pinned further against the hard wooden surface of the door.
“You are insufferable,” Hanzo sighed. He nipped the cowboy’s pulse point and was pleased to hear him let out a soft groan in return, “So needy. And in the middle of a mission?” He scoffed, canted his hips backwards when McCree tried to press up against him.
“Please, Hanzo. I… I can’t hold out, I need--”
Footsteps interrupted them. Hanzo shushed his lover with a hot kiss, pressing him more firmly against the door and holding him close. He could feel McCree shaking, feel his metal hand twitching, aching to break Hanzo’s hold and touch him but holding back. The cowboy let out a low moan.
A sharp nip to McCree’s bottom lip and Hanzo pulled away, “We’re still in danger, cowboy.” He grumbled, “You will have to be quiet if you want me to--”
“I’ll do anythin,’ Hanzo just lemme have you,” McCree gazed up at him with pretty, brown puppy-dog eyes.
With a ‘tsk,’ Hanzo released his hold on Jesse to instead link their hands together and lead him to where he thought the bedroom would be. Quietly, the two men found the bedroom after going through a bathroom and a broom closet. McCree was squirming, face flushed and body too hot to be healthy by the time they reached the bed. Hanzo began to wonder if they should wait for evac after all. But Jesse was persistent, leaving lingering touches on Hanzo’s back and making small, soft noises whenever the archer so much as brushed up against him.
The bed was large and comfortable, much softer than those at the Watchpoint, and Hanzo could already feel himself relaxing when he sat on the edge. McCree didn’t so much as spare it a glance, deciding that attempting to clumsily tear his lover’s clothes off was a much more productive way to spend his time. He kissed every inch of skin he bared, his beard scratchy but not unpleasant. Hanzo felt a spark of affection bloom in his chest at the sight of his cowboy. So desperate, he thought, cupping the back of Jesse’s head and pulling him in for a long kiss. What was in that arrow?
McCree’s hand pawed at the bulge growing in Hanzo’s pants before he moaned filthily into the archer’s mouth. “Oh, Hanzo,” he gasped, “I can’t wait, baby. Please darlin,’ lemme--”
With a grunt, the cowboy was flipped onto his back before Hanzo began working at his belt, tugging off the buckle. Ridiculous, he thought. Though perhaps he was the ridiculous one considering he was kissing each letter on McCree’s BAMF belt buckle. Jesse watched him through the haze of lust-filled eyes, his heart hammering in his chest when Hanzo finally yanked his jeans down.
The relief from constriction was almost instantaneous, but it didn't last long when Jesse’s hardened cock pressed further into the confines of his boxers. Hanzo didn't leave him waiting for long, however, and hooked a finger in the waistband to tug it down at an agonizing pace. McCree squirmed, groaned at the feeling of his lover so close, and sighed when he was released from his underwear.
Taking a moment to admire his boyfriend, Hanzo hummed appreciatively at the bead of pre-cum leaking from the head of McCree’s swollen cock. He wrapped his fingers around the base, causing Jesse to hiss and buck involuntarily into the other man’s touch.
“God-damn,” McCree breathed.
Hanzo chuckled, watched the way the cowboy’s face and body flushed, broke out in a sweat, wiggled restlessly under his touch until he finally gave a firm pump to the cock in his hand. McCree gasped, body threatening to arch off of the bed until Hanzo stilled him with a firm press against his abdomen with his free hand. McCree was always sensitive and receptive in the bedroom, but everything seemed heightened somehow. The archer thought back to the arrow, tipped with a pink (or was it red?) heart. An aphrodisiac, then?
But Jesse drew his thoughts back to the moment with his gasps and pleas. Hanzo soothed him with a kiss to his hipbone, squeezed his cock gently, and moved down to mouth at his balls while his hand worked him. Jesse writhed against the hand on his stomach, pushing up against it, wanting to be closer. Hanzo hummed low and pleased in the back of his throat before pulling away.
“You look so beautiful like this,” Hanzo whispered, licked his lips to savor the taste of the cowboy. “At my mercy. Do you want more, Jesse?”
“Oh, fuck yeah, Hanz. Can never get enough of you,” the cowboy moaned, hips rocking against Hanzo’s hand for more friction.
Hanzo wanted to relish in the sight of his boyfriend coming undone so quickly but decided that there were much more important things to be doing. He started with a gentle kiss, right on the tip of McCree’s cock, and a squeeze of his hand around his shaft. A lick to swipe the pre-cum into his mouth (and oh did Jesse taste good), a moan from Hanzo and McCree both. The archer trembled, placed both hands on Jesse’s thighs, spreading his fingers out, and suckled the head of McCree’s cock into his mouth.
He listened to McCree’s breath stutter, followed by an “oh, darlin!’” and a calloused hand fisting in his hair. Hanzo moaned, bobbed his head to take more of his boyfriend, slid his tongue against the underside of his dick, forced himself not to fuck himself with his own hands while taking care of his lover’s needs. He took as much of the cowboy as he could, choking and gasping around his cock, feeling drool begin to drip from his mouth as he bobbed up and down.
A metal hand tightened around the locks of Hanzo’s hair, tugging as Jesse begged Hanzo for more. “God, y’look so damn pretty with my dick in your mouth,”
Hanzo gasped, hands twitching against McCree’s legs, and shook when the cowboy began to set his own pace. With a hand in Hanzo’s hair, McCree controlled their movements, going hard and fast but slowing when he got too close to finishing. The filthy noises between them were loud in the quiet bedroom. They had stopped trying to be silent long ago, ignoring the threat of Talon or the fear of missing their evac carrier. It was just the two of them here, love-drunk and needing each other.
It was when McCree’s hand pulled a little too hard at Hanzo’s hair that he knew Jesse would finish soon. His thrusts got sloppy, borderline tired, and let Hanzo take control of their pace again. It didn't last long, and soon enough McCree was gasping a warning, pushing Hanzo’s face into his groin with a shout of ecstasy and spilling into the archer’s mouth. Hanzo nearly choked (something that only served to make him grow somehow harder in his trousers) on the cum as it filled his mouth, but he didn't complain. He took it all, steeling himself to swallow it just to see the look Jesse would have on his face (proud, needy, perhaps ready to go another round despite what his body told him).
When they parted, Hanzo licked a droplet of seed from the corner of his mouth and sat back on his haunches to admire his work. Jesse McCree was sprawled out before him, thoroughly blissed out, chest heaving with pants, eyes fluttering open and closed, indecisive on whether to look or rest. Hanzo leaned over and kissed his boyfriend’s hairy stomach, nuzzling into the cushiony flesh there.
“You did so well, Jesse,” he whispered, rubbing the cowboy’s thighs.
Jesse hummed, reached out to pull Hanzo up and kiss him. It was sloppy and warm and wholly McCree, and Hanzo was just getting into it (rearing and ready to go at the cowboy’s behest) when his comm crackled to life.
“Evac just arrived. Had to land somewhere else because of Talon operatives. Sending the coordinates now,” Winston said, oblivious to the situation he had intruded upon.
“We will be there shortly,” Hanzo replied.
“Looks like we got some damn good timing, huh, darlin?’”
Hanzo scoffed, hit the cowboy’s chest. “Fix yourself, Jesse. We must go,”
McCree pouted, “C’mon, that shit you drugged me with is still in my system. ‘Sides, I ain't taken care of you yet.”
With a mischievous glint in his eyes, Hanzo nips the cowboy’s earlobe, “We will continue this later, Agent McCree,”
“I'll hold you to it, baby.”