2nd Drabble of November 2018 (Patreon)

Somnophilia; rimming; groping; molestation – It is hot in Greece and Jesse McCree seems to only own one pair of ratty shorts.

.o.

 

It’s swelteringly hot on the Greek base and clothes have come off quickly after the initial try to retain some form of modicum.

They slink around, sweating and miserable, oozing across chairs and recliners alike, or, in Tracer’s case, just lying down on the cool tile of the kitchen floors and bathrooms in the hope of staving off spontaneous combustion.

They are lethargic and moody and barely motivated to move… except for when McCree makes his way out of his rooms to instead flop down in one of the rec rooms. He is just as miserable and exhausted as everybody else, but with the added benefit that he offers a certain kind of show – as unintentional as it might be.

His shorts are as ratty and unwashed as the rest of him – and it is, quite frankly, glorious when there is nothing else he is wearing, parading his body around for everybody else to see and admire.

He is thick and sturdy, skin a warm dark shade and hair liberally coating every part of him.

He is also unselfconscious enough to throw himself down on one of the couches and start snoring within second after stretching himself out on the cushions belly down and one leg dangling down to the floor.

Opening his thighs wide for the hole in the ratty fabric to gape open and let his junk spill out. Slutty.

They rot together like a pack of wild dogs; like McCree’s pungent, warm body odor is enough to make them crawl out of various nooks and crannies, drawn in with the promise of his warm, big cock and large, ripe balls just there for the… taking.

They do not dare to touch the first few times it happens; rather they take pictures of how slutty he is; whorishly spreading open for them in his sleep and letting them get needy and hot about the fat girth of his cock even soft and uninterested like that.

They soon lose their inhibitions, however. It’s mostly the same crowd every time; a mixture of Genji, Reinhardt, Hanzo, Mei, of all people, and the good Doctor Ziegler, and there is little that embarrasses them anymore.

Like Mei reaching between McCree’s thighs and taking a hold of his testicles; weighing them on her palm and sighing about how warm they feel. How alive. She is surprisingly unselfconscious; rolling them around her palm, feeling how loose the fat testicles are in their sac, then letting go to pinch at his foreskin.

It all goes downhill from there. They become more daring; figuring out what they can get away with before McCree wakes from his deep sleep.

The answer is: a lot. He snores through Genji awkwardly jerking him to get a reaction out of his dick, and through Reinhardt carefully hooking his thumbs into the hole of his shorts to rip them open just a bit wider; let them have a chance at getting at his hairy hole as well.

He even sleeps through Doctor Ziegler daringly pushing her face between his thighs and daintily licking at his anus, the panties of her sensible white underwear becoming noticeably see-through the longer she spends with her nose buried in Jesse McCree’s sweaty ass crack.

They kind of want him to wake up, probably. Maybe they would be sheepish and slip away like naughty children as the cowboy sits up and wipes the sleep from his eyes.

Or maybe they would hold him down and ignore his confused cries as they keep molesting his body.