Patreon Compilation – Fic#285 – Blast From The Past! (Patreon)

This week's fic is a 'blast from the past' fic! To see on why that is, please have a small look into the pinned post. As already stated there, I can't encourage you enough to link your patreon to discord to have a peek into the patron-only channel – or to DM me for further info if you can't/don't want to link. Thank you!

Readable for all tiers this time :)

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This blast from the past is Patreon Comp Fic#30! Please enjoy this Cassidy/Baptiste/Hanzo!

Cassidy/Baptiste/Hanzo – armpit sniff; humiliation kink; dirty talk – Baptiste doms two very eager, very nasty sluts that are just dying to get to play with him.

Previously posted with Cassidy's old name.

(This is a continuation of B16F3 - AO3 Link)

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This is more elaborate than what they usually get up to:

Hanzo and Cole kneeling on the floor, hands bound behind their backs, and cheeks red hot and embarrassed as they look up at Baptiste like he’s hung the sun and the moon.

Usually one of them just has an itch and comes sniffing for dick, hoping that Baptiste will be jovial enough to scratch them where they need it the most. It’s easier to be freaky and into the nasty stuff when there’s nobody to draw attention to it. When they can just discreetly – or as discreetly as they can be – tug him to the side and look at him with hopeful puppy faces.

Like this, Hanzo’s hands bound with his ribbon and Cole’s with his serape, it is more difficult to explain away that they are hard, cocks pointing accusingly at Baptiste as he stands in front of them, hands on his hips and an inordinately self-satisfied expression on his face.

He’s sweaty. Glistening. They trail a path one of the drops of sweat takes down his clavicle and over his chest. He’s come fresh from a run when they accosted him, unrelated to each other but definitely in on the same goddamn game.

They should have gotten in a habit of at least texting each other; letting the other know when they go hunt for a dicking so they wouldn’t run in on each other and make this into the mess it has now become: Something elaborate. Something they can’t just explain away all hush-hush, leaving Baptiste with a kiss and a do-not-tell after he was kind enough to fuck them into a nice, cum-dumb stupor.

They’ve fucked up and now they have to pay the price. He’s a jovial enough guy letting them crawl all over him when they feel like it, but he has limits, too, it seems.

He lifts a hand, cupping his own right pec, seemingly deep in thought until he starts pinching his dark nipple, plump and delicious looking. Cassidy is stuck on the sight, mouth dropping open, cock jerking eagerly while Hanzo’s eyes are fixed on Baptiste’s face; the amused, knowing glint of his dark eyes.

“Well, gentlemen,” he says suddenly, and both of them jerk, faces flushing with guilt. They squirm on the spot, the makeshift ties around their wrists a lot looser than either of them wants to admit. “I am a busy man. I love playing with you, but there are other matters I have to attend as well… So why don’t we cut to the chase this time around?”

He grins at them, letting go of his pec and instead curling his arm up, elbow pointing to the ceiling as he scratches the back of his head, exaggerating everything as he makes as if he is thinking hard about what to do with them while his eyes are fixed on them with hawk-like precision. He is inordinately satisfied when both their eyes flick immediately to his armpit, stretched out on display, the hair thick and curling wet from the run he’s just come from.

There’s a string of clear pre-cum slowly bubbling from Hanzo’s slit and then stretching towards the floor.

They are disgusting like that. Baptiste laughs at them and squats down low, the legs of his basketball shorts gaping enough to almost give them a tantalizing glimpse.

“But how about you two do me a favor for once?” he murmurs, his eyes going half-lidded while his smile stays on, easy and excited. “Why don’t you,” he makes a little two fingered gesture between them, a back and forth that they follow with their eyes like idiots, “give me a little show? A little kiss to break the ice, perhaps?”

They stare a little longer at him, seemingly having trouble to comprehend, before glancing at each other. Baptiste watches, spreading his thighs a tad wider and tugging at the leg of his shorts to give them a bit of an incentive. It looks like they could just see the dusky tip of his cock. The scent wafting off of him is thick and warm, and when they still don’t jump into action he purrs: “Y’know this sweat is gonna dry eventually, yes?”

And of course that gets them going: falling mouth first against each other, kissing, beards dragging and tickling as they messily make out like teenagers while Baptiste is enjoying himself immensely.

“Damn. Yeah. That’s real good. You’re doing so well-” They get into it, too; like they have just found out that instead of accosting Baptiste at every turn, they could actually go and at least take the edge off by licking into each other’s mouths and get their hands at each other’s tits as soon as Baptiste has nudged the shitty faux bindings away from their arms.

Soon he is lounging on his chair, shorts wrapped around his ankles as he fists his cock and watches two burly grown men kiss for him. Hell, Hanzo is even making little eager noises, holding his lovely cock and strangling it to death as Cassidy pinches his nipple and tugs on it.

“Alright.” Baptiste leans back, grinning like a lunatic when the men immediately stop kissing, eyes snapping open to fix on him. He notices with amusement that they don’t exactly turn away from each other, though, mouths pressed together wet and needy. “How about we get this show on the road?”

He lifts one arm, grabbing the head rest of his armchair; easily, nonchalantly presenting his wet armpit to the two freaks. His other hand is around his cock, idly holding it upright so it doesn’t droop by its own weight.

“C’mere.” They each move like they have been called out by him specifically, crawling across the floor, bumping shoulders as they kneel in front of him, faces flushed sweaty red like drunkards. Maybe they even are a little intoxicated – he wouldn’t put it past them to need a bit of liquid courage to hype themselves up into searching him out to satisfy their primal needs.

“What to do… What to do… I only have one lap, you know,” he says idly like he hasn’t already figured out exactly how he wants this to go down. It’s hilarious to watch their faces fall, mouths going soft and open in protest as they seem to struggle with the thought that they might not be the first one to stuff their face into his sweaty armpit and huff the salty tang of it.

What nasty sluts they are. Nasty, sweaty, obedient sluts.

He thinks how competitive and volatile they can be during missions and has half a mind to let the others know they just need to offer up their sweaty bodies in exchange for some half-decent behavior during meticulously planned stake-outs.

Would be hilarious just to see the faces of the two; how they would undoubtedly fight between horrified and painfully turned on as they are being humiliated in front of everybody.

When he nods towards Hanzo to let him crawl up into his lap, Cole’s face falls and he looks so heartbroken that Baptiste almost wants to coo at this burly, hairy man like he’s a little boy that scraped his knee.

They get what they’re supposed to do quickly enough after he rips a hole into Hanzo’s slutty thin biker shorts.

After that, Baptiste just has to lean back and let them have at it; laughing breathlessly when Hanzo stuffs his face into his pit, huffing like Baptiste had imagined he would – like he knows Hanzo has been dying for since he came sniffing for dick like an unfixed dog.

Further down, Cassidy is all over his dick, nosing into the wiry hair at the base and groaning low and deep and drawn-out at the thick musk he finds there. The vibration of his voice a nice added bonus against Baptiste’s cock.

They sniff and groan, dragging their faces against Baptiste’s sweaty body, and it is absolutely disgusting. And hot. He’s never been particularly into this shit before entering Overwatch, but the insistence with which both Cassidy and Hanzo have worshiped his body on several occasions is something that doesn’t go past him without a few imprints.

Nowadays he jerks off – if he jerks off, that is… the two of them keeping him on his toes on being accosted near daily – he finds himself doing so with the phantom feeling of someone’s nose dragging through his armpit, or the sound of them deeply pulling air into their lungs.

God, but those two idiots have ruined him.

“Don’t forget him,” Baptiste rasps, his other hand blindly groping beneath Hanzo and grabbing roughly into Cassidy’s messy hair. He pulls him off of his dick with some force before stuffing his face into the archer’s ass.

Seconds later, Hanzo mewls into his armpit and from down below he can hear the wet lapping of Cassidy’s tongue going to work.

Baptiste leans his head back, staring blankly at the ceiling as he gets serviced. He wouldn’t have imagined himself buried underneath two stocky men any time soon with the work he’s doing. It’s… pretty nice, if he does say so himself.

When he lowers his arm into a headlock around Hanzo just to fuck with him, Hanzo makes a sound like he’s already coming just from a tongue up his ass and his head being squeezed in Baptiste’s sweaty armpit.

He never would have thought he would consider this the life, but… Baptiste is good at rolling with the punches and those two freaks are just so enthusiastic in their debauchery, it is difficult not to get swept up in all of it.

So he just goes along and sees where this will get him.