Early Access 2 of September: Comp. Vol. 15 (Zenyatta Centric) (Patreon)

Zenyatta/Soldier76 –  Abuse of Power – Mine

The Strike Commander’s face looks sickly in the dimmed glow of the screen. He’s turned off all the lights in his office, pretending like he’s not there while sitting in his chair and staring at the camera feed. His legs are spread wide, cock out in the cool air; just as shockingly pale looking against the black of his pants; merely the tip flushed an excited pink.

The video feed is a bit grainy due to the bad connection in the locker and shower rooms. They have not been designed with surveillance in mind, but he can tolerate it as long as he can look at Agent Tekhartha.

The Blackwatch troop has just come back from a three hour morning drill led by Reyes, and they all look the part: dirty, sluggish, exhausted. Except for Tekhartha, that is. Jack has never seen him anything but chipper – exuding an aura of unending energy and patience, making him seem twice his age even though Jack knows for a fact he’s the youngest agent in Blackwatch.

As he watches, Zenyatta peels off the tight t-shirt. The other agents in the peripherie are already naked, or have even begun to hit the showers – but Zenyatta has been one of the last and Jack doesn’t think even Reyes could jerk him out of his slow, even pace. Tekhartha would be just as quick or just as slow as he wanted to.

Jack closes his fist around his cock, giving it a slow squeeze and tug. He thinks about other methods to try and get Zenyatta’s calm exterior to break down. He believes a cock might just do the trick. Even the young Agent wouldn’t be able to meditate away a dick in his guts, spreading him open to the very limits of his body.

Jack leans forward when Tekhartha begins opening his combat pants, nose almost touching the screen as Zenyatta leans forward, pulling down his garments and exposing his small, tight ass – only for McCree to suddenly step into the picture and conceal the slim deliciousness of the young agent’s frame with his own hairy bulk.

The Strike Commander recoils, his pelvis aching somewhere deep; as if an incoming orgasm had been staved off harshly.

As he watches, McCree crowds Tekhartha against the lockers. It doesn’t look aggressive. In fact, it looks… comfortable. Practiced. Like it has happened a few times already. Jack watches with anger making his stomach curdle, as McCree ducks minimally. He can’t see exactly what is happening, but he can tell when people are kissing.

He clenches his jaw, eyes going narrow and hot – before a sudden epiphany has him sit back, mouth open in an almost shocked little ‘o’. On the screen, McCree and Tekhartha have vanished to hit the showers, but Jack’s mind is already reeling with possibilities.

.o.

“You have requested my presence, Strike Commander.”

Agent Tekhartha looks as placid as ever. If he’s wondered about the Strike Commander calling on him, he does not show it. There is no confused crinkle in his brow, no defensive pout to his lips. He stares at Jack with doe eyes that are so wildly out of place for the military that it makes Jack almost angry.

“I have,” he murmurs, but does not say more for a long while. He looks his fill first; drinking in the view of Tekhartha’s long, slim body. How wrong the gear looks on him. He’s wearing the heavy black boots that are required of the soldier’s, but Jack finds himself wishing he was barefoot instead.

Finally, he stands and slowly rounds his table. His cock is already more than interested. It makes walking a bit awkward, but not impossible. The agent watches him approach with an undaunted expression. Jack would love to know what is going on in that head of his. Whether his mind is racing, trying to figure out why…

“Agent…” Jack finally murmurs. He stands close. Too close. He can finally see a small crinkle in Tekhartha’s brow, and the sight makes him impossibly hard. Zenyatta does not step back, however. He seems rooted to the ground, staring at Jack. Waiting. “I have only ever heard the highest praise for you… For your… discipline and bravery.”

He waits again, but Zenyatta remains quiet other than a soft, melodical hum. Jack can’t tell whether he is satisfied by the compliment or not. He wants to put expressions on Zenyatta’s face. His fingers itch with the need to grab him. Make him have an emotion.

“Which is why I was so very disappointed to find out about your… transgression.”

Zenyatta cocks his head minutely. His eyes are dark with brown flecks in them. Wide. There’s not a hair on his chin, nor is there a shadow of a beard. Jack’s breath becomes quick and choppy. He lifts his hand, fingertips touching the point of Zenyatta’s jaw, then trailing along the sharp cut towards his round little chin.

In front of him, Zenyatta suddenly becomes very still; he seems to even hold his breath, his round eyebrows twitching.

“Sir…?”

“McCree.” The name falls heavy. He can see Zenyatta’s mouth twitch and it is better than anything. His cock is hard and pulsing wet pre-cum against his shorts, soaking them already. He had not anticipated just how heady the feeling would be.

After a second, Tekhartha’s plump mouth falls open; only minimally. The longer the silence stretches, the more satisfied Jack becomes. There’s just a bit of perspiration springing up on Tekhartha’s forehead. He doesn’t even try to deny anything. Either he is too shocked or embarrassed.

Jack’s hand wanders; his blunt fingertips tracing the delicate length of the agent’s throat. Against Zenyatta, Jack looks positively hamfisted and it excites him to no ends.

“I think we will find a… satisfying resolution of your little problem without involving Commander Reyes… don’t you think so?”

Beneath his fingertips, he can feel Zenyatta’s Adam’s Apple bob.

.o.

Jack had thought about this moment to an unhealthy degree, but he’d never imagined just how supple and silky Zenyatta’s thighs would be. How well they would accommodate his cock pushing between them as he held him down with a big hand on the back of his slender neck.

“Watch the paperwork,” he grunts, and Tekhartha carefully moves his trembling hands farther away from the documents that still need signing. For such a slender guy he can hold Jack’s weight pretty well.

His brown skin is flushed a dark red between his shoulder blades. He does not turn his head and look at Jack, but he is sure the flush extends to his face.

Since his proposition, Zenyatta hasn’t spoken a word; and Jack is a little miffed at how stoically he takes this, too. Being naked when the Strike Commander has merely pulled out his cock; bending over and showing off his tight little ass in person; the small, tender hole between his cheeks that Jack couldn’t wait to spread open on his cock some other time.

Whenever he pushes inwards, the blunt tip of his cock presses into the warm, soft space behind Zenyatta’s round little balls that he could get a glimpse of yesterday on the video feed before McCree’s hairy ass covered everything from view.

It is good like this; but Zenyatta’s quiet and patience gnaws at him until he has to change things up; hand clapping down heavy and hard on his shoulder to pull him upright and turn him around. The agent is looking off to the side, face carefully blank, and Jack grits his jaw.

“Knees,” he barks, and after a second or two, Tekhartha complies; slow and smooth – just this side of compliant… and Jack snaps.

He grabs a hold of Tekhartha’s chin, thumb pressing harsh against the corner of his plump little mouth until the agent squirms and opens his jaws. His docile brown eyes look up at him, finally, round eyebrows drawn together. He looks disgruntled for the first time, hands curled into fists on his thighs as Jack’s gloved thumb drags along his molars and then the soft pad of his tongue.

“Open,” he hisses, and then immediately afterwards: “Wider! Do you want me to go to brass? Want your beloved Commander Reyes to find out how McCree and you are fucking around and spitting regulations right in his face?”

Zenyatta’s cheeks flush dully. Jack has never seen his face anything but gentle and happy, and the sudden knowledge that Tekhartha might hate him is making his cock jerk and flex, a long sticky line of pre-cum dripping slowly towards the floor.

He grabs his cock with the other hand, smearing the tip slowly round and round Tekhartha’s slack, plush lips; then suddenly pops it in. He takes a hold of the back of his head and pushes him forward until he can hear him gag and feel the wet barrier of his throat closing around his dick; trying to keep him out.

“That’s what agents get who break the rules,” Jack huffs. He does not use his hips; rather, he fucks Zenyatta onto his cock. He’s using both hands now, palms clamped around Zenyatta’s ears, pulling him onto his dick again and again; using his throat like a fleshlight until finally something gives and he can slide in the last couple inches while Tekhartha gags and coughs and struggles to pull in small pockets of air while the Strike Commander uses his throat like any other cunt he might find.

Jack feels vaguely crazed as he uses him, belly hot, balls seemingly churning as he stares down and watches himself use agent Tekhartha. He can’t wait to shoot his load right into his belly. See him walk around, talk to friends and colleagues; act like he’s the same cute Blackwatch recruit as ever, while in his guts Commander Morrison’s cum is sloshing around.

He’s already planning to call on him later that night. Have him on his back like a lady, his long legs spread in the air, taking his cock and holding it warm in that little ass of his.

Maybe he’d let McCree watch sometime, as he deep dicks his fuck buddy. Lets him see how he uses Zenyatta’s throat until there’s nothing of his usual dignity to be seen anymore.

He’s got them in his hands, after all. He can do whatever the fuck he wants.

Whatever. He wants.