Patreon Compilation – Fic#51 – Reaper/Soldier76 – slutty!Jack; intercrural sex; calm/brainwashed Reaper – Not The Time Or Place (Patreon)

Life as a Talon captive is not as bad as Jack had imagined it to be. He definitely doesn’t like the incarceration and the fact that he is within the enemy base and has to cool his heels until Overwatch finds a way to break him out, but… it could be worse. A lot worse.

They could be torturing him just for the sake of it – as they know Jack Morrison would never divulge any information worth having – or they could put any which guard outside his jail cell instead of… Reaper.

Maybe they think it to be a torture all on its own to have him see his old friend and lover, so very obviously brainwashed that he doesn’t remember a thing about Jack anymore except that he is the enemy, but…

Jack never had been someone to lament what can’t be changed, and looking at Gabriel standing stock still outside of his jail cell, dark and foreboding, not moving a muscle unless he is ordered to bring the prisoner to the showers, is… giving him time to just look and enjoy.

Gabriel has always been built well, but since whatever Talon has done to him, he has stacked up even more muscles, and Jack can’t stop staring at the barely-there gap between his thick thighs; minuscule even though his feet are standing a perfect shoulder width apart.

Damn, but Gabriel looks good enough to eat. He looks like he could benchpress Jack and then some. He looks like he could piledrive Jack into the ground with his cock and the thought is… really good. Fucking fantastic.

Jack hasn’t felt this inspired to fantasize and get horny since… well. Since the whole Zurich thing. It is a kind of bittersweet realization that all that has been missing for his libido has been Gabriel after all. His sweet Gabriel. His cantankerous fucks-best-when-he-is-frustrated Gabriel.

Reaper is a joy in and off itself, though. He never moves; doesn’t even seem to breathe. He just stands there for hours on end, silent and looming. The perfect soldier, with the endlessly dark holes of his mask directed right on Jack.

Jack has tried to speak with him at the beginning until he realized that either the Reaper is not in a mood to ever talk to him, or that he maybe is physically unable to. Maybe he has been ordered to just stand and watch Jack, and whatever they’ve done to him makes him follow his orders to an absolute T.

The thought is… stupidly arousing. Jack prowls his jail cell like a tiger, eyes on Gabriel, trying to find any indication that there is more going on in his head than whatever order he has been issued with, but it is absolutely impossible to tell.

So Jack stops to try talking with him and instead begins to talk at him. It is better than the maddening silence deep down in the Talon holding cells.

If there are other prisoners around him, he never hears them. He never is allowed to see anything more than his own cell and the shower rooms.

When he takes off his shirt, Reaper doesn’t react, of course. He just stands there, arms crossed over his broad, stone hard chest. Jack wishes he weren’t doing it so he could see the swell of his tits, but… oh well.

He watches him watch him as he sits on the edge of his slim bed and lifts a hand, seemingly idly cupping his pec. When there is no reaction, he switches to outright pinching his nipple, eyes fluttering shut while he pulls in air between his teeth.

There is a nice warmth trickling through his body. He doesn’t know if there is any security other than Reaper in place. Maybe there are cameras that are pointed on him from all directions and watch him get hot and bothered in front of his old lover.

Jack doesn’t care.

He gets bolder with time. He begins to work out, placing himself so his ass is directed at his guard while he does push ups against the side of the bed, his feet apart.

He soon switches; doesn’t even do push ups anymore and just arches his back and shows off the tight curve off his ass, yet when he looks back, Reaper is still just standing there. Still just watching.

He takes off his pants the next time; walks in just his underwear up and down the jail cell. Lets Reaper see the flex of his muscles and the soft bulge of his cock gently bouncing as he moves.

He presses himself against the bars, hands curled around them, body a sinuous wave as he fucks his bulge against the cool metal and croons: “Why don’t you come here and get yourself some?”

Reaper doesn’t react, like he hasn’t reacted all the other times Jack tried to pull him into conversation. At least Jack thinks he doesn’t react. He is just about to roll his eyes in annoyance and pull away; maybe finally rub one out, ostensible cameras be damned, when he catches sight of the bulge in Reaper’s pants.

“Oh…” Jack whispers and is back at the bars immediately, pressing himself against the iron, eyes fixed on the slowly growing bulge in the tight pants. He fucks his own bulge against the cold metal until he gets bored of that and reaches down, hooking a thumb into the waistband of his boxers and dragging them beneath his balls.

His cock is swinging in the air, drooping down from its own weight, the tip a ruddy red when he curls an arm around the shaft and pulls down on the foreskin. Exposing his glans to the room and to Reaper’s emotionless stare.

“Isn’t that uncomfortable?” Jack rasps, jerking his chin towards the tight leather pants that look like they shouldn’t have as much give as they already show off. “Don’t you want to get them off?”

Reaper doesn’t move still, just stands and stares, as if willing to ignore his cock trying its darndest to rip out of the constricting material. Or maybe the sensation his body provides isn’t even reaching the part of his brain that Talon must have locked away. Jack doesn’t know, he can only guess.

He huffs and closes his eyes, hips moving to gently fuck into his fist, arm outside the bars as he jerks himself off, giving this living breathing reminder of Gabriel Reyes a show without him even appreciating the effort.

When he opens his eyes again, he grunts and jerks backwards. The wraith is suddenly a lot closer. Like… a lot closer. Close enough that Jack could let go of his dick and stretch his arm out and grab him.

He doesn’t do it, though; just stares, heart hammering wildly while the expressionless mask bores into him. And then Reaper explodes in a puff of smoke; million of nanites levitating in the air for a breath like a thick cloud of soot before it rushes past him, into his prison cell.

Seconds later, Reaper is pressing against his back, hot like a furnace and very, very naked.

Jack grunts as he is getting crushed against the cold, hard iron. He can just about turn his head to the side and avoid getting his nose crushed against one of the bars when Reaper grabs the back of his head, talons digging into whatever they can grasp of Jack’s thin, white hair, and shoves his head forward.

“Damn,” Jack gasps. Reaper doesn’t say anything. He presses against Jack’s back and rudely shoves his cock between the man’s thighs. He fucks once, twice, too short for Jack to even comprehend what is going on and to enjoy it before he pulls back again and hooks his talon into the back of Jack’s shorts and janks them down.

Goosebumps rise all over Jack’s body when he feels the sharp chin of the mask hooked over one of his shoulders and hears the deep, smoky voice of the Reaper for the first time outside of combat.

“You’ve been begging for it long enough…”

Jack’s hands are in white-knuckled grips around the bars. He wonders if he’s made a mistake, but the next second Reaper is pressing his impossibly hot body against Jack’s back and slots his cock between his ass cheeks.

Jack has missed that cock. A whole lot. Nice and fat and sturdy, just long enough to smear a bit of wet pre-cum against the small of his back when Reaper fucks upward with a low grunt.

He dicks him like a machine, crushing him against the hard bars of his jail cell while hot dogging him and dragging his cock through the tight valley of Jack’s ass cheeks.

His hole is on fire, prickling and tingling; and he really, really wants Reaper to spread him on his dick and set his innards ablaze with the same heat that his body seems to give off in thick, oppressive waves.

But Reaper is not doing it. He just fucks between his ass cheeks and takes what he wants, and Jack wonders if that is his punishment. If that is the torture he’s been low-key waiting for since Talon has captured him.

Fuck.

Fuck.