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Angelo/Hanzo – vulnerability/helplessness kink; mild watersports; hurt/comfort – I’m Here For You

Hanzo is restless in his sleep. He does not like being dependent on anybody in his waking hours, and in his dreams he absolutely loathes it. Angelo watches him struggle against his thin blankets, twisting them around his naked thighs. The short stumps just beneath his knees twitch and accentuate the lack of his prosthetics.

The young doctor steps closer, big, warm palm carefully placed on Hanzo’s shoulder to wake him, but the dark eyes snap open even before he touches his skin. He must have registered the warmth enough to jerk him out of his fitful sleep.

Wordlessly, he stares up at the doctor. His hair is lank, sticking to his sweaty skin. His chest is heaving, barely hidden beneath the deep-cut tank top someone has pulled out of his wardrobe when it got obvious that he would have to spend a while in the med bay to cure his bruised ribs and wait for Torbjörn to finish his new prosthetic legs.

It had been a close call, this time. The building had crumbled spectacularly with the archer still perched on top; and, miraculously enough, only his prosthetics had been crushed into uselessness by a massive piece of reinforced concrete.

“You were having a nightmare,” Angelo tells him gently. He keeps looking into his eyes while his other hand travels lower, carefully tugging on the thin blanket to pull it out from being wrapped about the strong thighs.

He is acutely aware of his sister still working away in the other room, brooding over her current research – and he is also acutely aware of his own, unhealthy interest in the strong man under his care.

He tries not to stare, but Hanzo’s intelligent gaze drives him to avert his gaze, inadvertently staring at the thick, naked thighs his trembling hand has revealed.

Hanzo’s thin shorts have been dragged up, the legs bunched obscenely around the creases of his thighs, his cock a noticeable bulge in the fabric – and Angelo snatches his hand away before he can caress the strong muscles, trembling like a colt’s.

When he looks back up at Hanzo’s face, he is as unreadable as ever. If he has seen the unhealthy desire in his doctor’s actions, he does not mention it. Angelo feels hot. Feverish. He realizes his hand is still on Hanzo’s shoulder and he snatches it away.

“Do you want a glass of water?” he whispers, and Hanzo’s gaze slants away, his lips pressing into a stubborn line. Reminded how he is beneath another’s care.

“No. Thank you.” His voice is surprisingly soft. Angelo sees how his fingers – thick and with short nails – curl into the thin bedding beneath. He looks distressed, and Angelo feels sick to his stomach how he could ever have these… thoughts, these… desires for a man that needs his professional help. 

He swallows thickly and nods, turning away to let him continue sleeping, when Hanzo speaks up again, voice a bit deeper and rougher than before.

“I need to… use the bathroom.”

“I…”

“Pee.”

Angelo almost barks a laugh. He feels nervous for no reason. He nods again without turning because he feels like his face is aflame.

“Just a moment.”

.o.

Angela has fallen asleep at her desk, he realized when getting the urinal, and the knowledge is swimming around in the back of his head when he stands at Hanzo’s bed a bit too long, staring at the bunched-up shorts.

For a second he thinks about doing it himself; fishing Hanzo’s cock out of his garments and holding it at the base as the man relieves himself. He can almost feel the wiry, dark hair at his fingertips, and his cock is a half-hard line of interest down his right leg.

Finally, he thrusts the bottle at the man, then turns away.

He wants to go, but Hanzo’s clipped voice tells him to “Stay.” His mouth gets dry all of a sudden. He is rooted to the spot. If he thought Hanzo would be embarrassed about this whole ordeal, he could not have been more wrong.

Behind him, he can hear the groan of relief seconds before the thick stream of urine starts filling the bottle.

His cock thickens, a bit of his interest dribbling from his slit and filling his foreskin. He can feel it getting wet and sliding against the sensitive head as more blood engorges it.

“I am done.”

Hanzo’s high, prominent cheekbones are dusted vaguely pink, but his gaze is hot and defiant as he stares at Angelo while giving him the filled bottle back – and then two things happen at once:

Hanzo’s hand curls around Angelo’s thick wrist, keeping him in place at the same moment that the young doctor’s attention falls on the man’s cock – slipped through the front of the shorts, naked and gorgeous and very much getting fat and interested beneath the doctor’s gaze.

“Help me.” The demand is spoken as such, but it lacks the usual haughty superiority that Hanzo seems so deeply Hanzo that it takes Angelo off-guard for a second, his mouth opening, closing, then opening again where it remains to hang, gaping at Hanzo while he can feel his hand getting tugged gently but inexorably until his fingers touch the silky skin of his patient’s dick.

He fumbles, nearly drops the urinal like a dumbass, then hastily puts it on the low table next to him.

“I…”

“You are my doctor, are you not?” Hanzo is watching him with his almost disturbingly intelligent gaze, dark eyes unwavering as he reaches for his cock with his free hand and curls his hand around it. Starts stroking himself slow and sure and unselfconscious beneath Angelo’s flustered gaze.

“I… I am…”

“Then help me. You need to clean me, do you not?” Hanzo’s gaze becomes heavy lidded. He leans back into the pillows, his thighs twitching, then sliding farther apart. Angelo should not be excited by how short they are; how wide he could press them apart to slot between them and fuck deeply into his patient, his… his team mate. But he is. God, is he ever.

There are moments that are lost to him. He does not know or remember how he gets to awkwardly half-kneel on Hanzo’s bed, or how Hanzo’s hand fists in his ponytail to guide him, but that’s what he realizes next, his mouth getting pulled onto Hanzo’s cock, the tip still wet and salty from his piss.

Hanzo groans above him. His body is strong, athletic. He does not need his lower legs to brace himself against the mattress and easily fuck into his doctor’s mouth. Angelo slurps noisily, his ears pounding with blood as he tries to keep his teeth from touching the silky flesh.

He feels light headed and dizzy, so focused on everything at once that when Hanzo’s cock bumps the back of his throat, he is not prepared and gags, pulling back and wiping hastily at the drool on his chin, shy gaze slanting towards Hanzo’s smug face.

He wants to say something, but Hanzo’s hand still is fisted in his dyed hair and when he gently urges him back down, Angelo helplessly goes with it. He can’t help being sweet about it; wanting to make it more romantic than it is, and he can tell Hanzo is taken aback by the little wet kisses he smacks against the red tip.

When his hands wander, carefully petting along the trembling, big muscles of his thighs and sliding lower, cupping the ends of his stumps, the archer gets surprisingly fussy. He huffs and squirms, trying harder to urge Angelo’s full lips back around his lips, but Angelo is not deterred; keeping up his slow exploration until Hanzo capitulates and lets him massage big, rough fingers around the connection ports, easing the lingering pain there.

He is a bit better prepared for the blunt tip nudging against his throat, but it is not like Angelo has had great experience sucking cock before this. He still gags, but Hanzo’s hand is firm; keeps him down and enjoys the convulsions and wet clicking sounds of Angelo’s throat as he nudges again and again against the soft back of his throat.

Angelo is drooling liberally, his spit soaking Hanzo’s shorts and dark pubes, and while it certainly is embarrassing, it is also helpful. He wets his fingers with it after letting go of Hanzo’s stumps, then worms his way inside the shorts.

While he does not try to penetrate him, he seems sensitive enough, jumping and groaning low as Angelo rubs a wet fingertip across his twitching rim.

Hanzo does not prepare him for his orgasm, and Angelo does not know how to interpret the signs until it is too late; Hanzo taking in a sharp, short breath and becoming still for a second before his other hand clamps around the back of Angelo’s neck, holding on and keeping him down as his cock twitches then pulses, flexing out thick, almost lazy ropes of cum that flood the young doctor’s mouth and have him almost gag again before he gets himself back under control.

His eyes fill with tears at the sharp taste, but he swallows obediently with thick, gratifying pulls, his throat working beneath Hanzo’s fumbling, trembling hand as he seems to want to witness it.

When he finally pulls back, everything is a goddamn mess, and his cock is fat and needy, trapped uncomfortably against his thigh.

Hanzo watches him with lazily glittering eyes. He makes no move to reciprocate, and the knowledge makes Angelo embarrassingly even more excited.

“I… I will be right back, just… uh… gonna get something to clean you up…”

He just loves to service; and from Hanzo’s smug expression, the Shimada dragon has noticed.