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(Continuation can be found here)

Zenyatta/Bob – Zenyatta is thirsty for his big companion; especially when he realizes how fat his dick is.

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Bob’s inner machinery is working overtime as he watches Zenyatta next to him on the roof of the base. It’s loud and obvious, the air shimmering just about his frame with the heat that he is exuding, but Zenyatta is not mentioning any of it.

“It is a wonderful morning,” he sighs instead and slowly bends forward until he is neatly folded in on himself, his hands flat against the ground in front of his feet.

He does not need to do Yoga, but he still enjoys going through the motions of it – at least that is what he told Bob.

When Bob does not react, he slightly turns his head, array peeking out over the slender steel of his upper arm.

Bob, small green visual sensors fixed on the curve of Zenyatta’s ass – his wide pants shockingly see-through in the light of the morning – jerks out of his quiet admiration and quickly shakes his head.

After a second of deliberation what Zenyatta has said, he starts to nod profusely.

Zenyatta makes a soft sound like a laugh and slowly unbends from his position.

“Are you distracted, my friend?” he asks softly, stepping towards him, unperturbed by the heat that is radiating off of Bob. 

Bob nods – then shakes his head. Embarrassed, he turns slightly and stares out over the grey water that is sloshing against the high cliff the base is sitting on.

Zenyatta is close, watching his reactions intently, hands behind his back and only the gentle wriggling of his fingers showing how giddy he is. He leans around Bob to force him to look at him, one innocuous hand braced on the big omnic’s thigh as if to steady himself. (As if his sensors aren’t perfectly capable of keeping him balanced.)

“Are you well? It seems your heat output is… far above the norm.”

Bob stares at him a bit helplessly. He moves his hand and delicately curls just two huge fingers around Zenyatta’s wrist. It looks like he could easily bend the thin metal there, but the pressure barely registers in Zenyatta’s HUD.

He gently lifts Zenyatta’s hand away from his thigh but Zenyatta just twists his wrist and instead makes the two of them hold hands. He can feel himself starting to heat up when he sees just how deliciously Bob’s hand is dwarfing his.

There is one resonant click. Bob does not talk often – not at all – and Zenyatta is thrilled to hear his embarrassment.

“Oh no… You don’t need to worry yourself. Our teammates won’t be waking for a few more hours,” he murmurs, slowly stepping around the sitting Omnic to stand in front of him; very aware of the sun rising behind him and how see-through his pants are becoming.

Bob is humming softly, his machinery vibrating as some fans kick in that are usually dormant but now have to combat the heat rising in the big Omnic’s body.

Zenyatta tilts his head slightly, then begins to lower himself onto his knees. Bob looks skittish, his energy output erratic as he turns his head away and leans back, bracing himself behind his back and looking like he is calculating the smoothest escape route without making Zenyatta topple over.

Zenyatta smoothly halts his escape plan by curling his fingers into Bob’s belt and holding on. The big Omnic stares at him and blinks profusely a few times.

He clicks again and Zenyatta laughs softly.

“Don’t worry, my friend. Nobody will know. Why don’t we… amuse ourselves?”

Bob is still just staring at him when Zenyatta starts to deftly open his belt. He is slightly vibrating with eagerness, a motor inside his chassis thrumming and causing a clear, meditative ringing from somewhere in his body.

It sounds a lot more innocent than what he is doing, his head bend low, the shine of his array illuminating Bob’s crotch as he slowly pops open the button on his jeans and drags the zipper down. He moves like he is savoring every moment; like he is unpacking a wonderful present.

There’s a crack and a trill coming from his voice box when he sees Bob’s cock; fat and long and grey, segmented liberally to help with lubrication and ease of insertion. Zenyatta drags it out. It is heavy against his palm, thicker than his slender limbs, and he knows for a fact that his valve will struggle immensely, but he is more than ready to try his luck.

Bob, for his part, hides his face behind his large hands. unable to look at his feisty little Omnic companion.

At his mercy.

Or is he?