CYOA 2 – To The Victor Go The Spoils – Chapter 27: Changes (Patreon)

Last time: Hanzo went through his part of the deal, being a little scientific guinea pig for Winston and rather enjoying it despite himself.

Content/warnings: short undiscussed somnophilia scene that quickly moves into consensual; rimming

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As Hanzo had thought, Lúcio is amused about his tale, though it is obvious that he is rather distracted by his own happenings.

“I might have gotten my foot into a concert they’re holding soon… But that’d mean that I have to stay in Lumiose for a few days. Maybe a week or two.”

Hanzo smiles a little and nods. “I do not mind. Me and my team can train while you do your work.”

“Nah, you don’t need to wait for me.” Lúcio waves him off. “I’ll catch up with you after, alright? You need to stay in the swing of things and get to the next gym after your battle.”

“Are you… sure? I can postpone the date of my battle with Winston and stay here to support you. I ensure you I do not mind.”

“I know you don’t and I appreciate the offer, but honestly, there’s nothing you can do and for you to stall your journey just because of this doesn’t sit right with me, you know? When’s your match planned for anyway?”

“Hmmm tomorrow.” Hanzo still is not sure whether he should take Lúcio up on the offer. If it were his father, he would suspect some ulterior motif; a way to put a noose around his neck. Lúcio had been nothing but upfront and very easy to deal with, though, so he decides to believe him when he says he would rather they separate for a few days and do their respective goals.

“Nice. I’m curious how that’ll go! Especially after that weird testing. You think he’s hot or something?”

Hanzo huffs and looks away. He shrugs with one shoulder. “His looks are not high on my priority list,” he lies. He does not want to admit that the deep voice had gotten him all warm and tingly inside. Lúcio’s answering grin makes him think that somehow he still just knows.

“Gotcha, gotcha… hmmm you know what kind of Pokémon he got? Like types or something?”

That does get Hanzo thinking. He rubs his chin slowly as he stares at the ceiling and says: “I have been thinking about it but honestly, your guess is as good as mine. He must be strong, he is a gym leader after all… though he really tried to get out of fighting me.

He could have all kinds of types just for variety’s sake and to ease his research. Or maybe electric? He seems like a fan of machinery.”

Lúcio is nodding along, his face having taken on a blank expression as he thinks about it as well but ultimately has to shrug his shoulders.

They would see sooner rather than later; and he has his own plans to worry about, so Hanzo and he spent the rest of the day working at their own agendas.

.oOo.

Standing in the arena and waiting for Winston to finally get his act together and step out of the other door for a fight is surprisingly more tense than Hanzo had thought it would be. He can feel his heart thumping harder with every passing minute, his arms tightly crossed in front of his chest so he wouldn’t nervously play with his Pokéballs.

He had sat his team down just the last evening while feeding all of them and they had all seemed in high enough spirits. Goomy did not look too sure of himself but that was fine as well; he does not anticipate having to use him during today’s match.

King is more than fired up… ah… quite literally. The evolution must have left him with quite a bit of excess energy that he is more than eager to pump out during a match.

Hanzo is… confident that it will go well, something that he hasn’t been in a long while. The long trials he and his team went through on Akkala Island seem to actually have helped in boosting his confidence and bringing them all closer together.

Well now… The only missing thing is the actual gym leader.

Just as he is thinking that, he can hear voices, muffled but unmistakably that of Winston and his niece. Hanzo can’t hear the exact words but he recognizes a pep-talk when he hears one.

Slowly relaxing his posture and letting his arms move to his sides, he watches the door on the other side of the arena until it finally opens.

At first he sees Miss Song who has her hand clenched in the sleeve of her Uncle’s labcoat, ostensibly to make sure he doesn’t bolt.

She has to pull quite a bit until he moves in.

Hanzo swallows thickly. The man is huge… though in a different way though in a different way than Reinhardt or even Mister Rutledge. He doesn’t quite have the height of one or the girth of the other but he’s big nonetheless, even though he’s hunched over as if actually debating stepping behind his niece.

Hanzo has no idea how a scaredy-cat like that ever managed to become a gym leader in the first place. This seems absolutely insane.

He’s got glasses on his nose which he nervously keeps pushing up with thick fingers. He’s hairy too. It reminds him so much of Cassidy that he can’t help but feel a little… fond of the man.

“He’s not going to bite you, Uncle. Look at him. What is he supposed to do, huh?” Miss Song pulls him closer to his side of the arena as she talks. “Listen, you’ll love it, alright? He’s a pushover.”

Hanzo bristles, eyes boring into the side of her face.

“Do I remind you that I bested you?” he says icily.

“There, see? He talks all pompous-like. He’s a good guy,” Miss Song says without missing a beat. Hanzo has no idea what the Hell she is talking about or is trying to say and Winston does not look like he knows either… but he heaves a great big sigh and uncurls his back a little.

That’s something, at least. Damn, he’s… thick. Hanzo can feel his belly growing warm but pushes through the sensation. He will not start to be a mindless idiot like Cassidy.

“I am ready to begin,” he calls over diplomatically.

Miss Song claps her Uncle on the back and jauntily wiggles her fingers at Hanzo in a little wave before she leaves the both of them be.

Winston sighs deeply and straightens himself up after all. He’s not as fat as Mister Rutledge but just so sturdy and furry looking that Hanzo can’t help being very intrigued.

The scientist pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose with one thick finger and sighs again, reaching into the pocket of his lab coat out of which he fishes a Pokéball seemingly at random.

“Very well… let us get this over with,” he mutters.”

.oOo.

Genji can feel his hackles rising as he jerkily lifts his arm and calls his Pokémon back before the last devastating attack from Zenyatta’s team can hit it.

He stares at the Pokéball clutched in his hand, head curiously empty until he sees naked toes just about in his peripheral. He looks up to see Zenyatta standing there, his hands folded in front of his stomach and an enigmatic, feline smile on his face.

“You conceded defeat this time,” he says, the question barely audible in his even voice.

Genji can feel his annoyance rising like bile but it ebbs off again before it can really take root. It is somehow very difficult to be angry at this man.

Zenyatta continues with an even cadence: “I wonder why that is.”

Genji sucks his teeth. “I didn’t have any choice, did I?” he answers angrily. “It wouldn’t have made a damn difference either way.”

“Hm.” Zenyatta turns half-way, moving his arm in an invitation for Genji to follow him. Genji doesn’t want to, not really, but his feet carry him along before he can convince his brain that that’s the truth.

“How many times was that now? Three?”

“Four,” Genji grits out, temper spiking. “Four damn times, and you know that.”

“Ah. Yes. Of course.”

Zenyatta and he walk beneath a row of trees, away from the training grounds behind the temple and more into the gentle wilderness surrounding it. The silence in these parts makes Genji somehow even more restless. They’re basically alone here. He hadn’t even believed at first that this actually was a gym.

“Do you want to try again?” Zenyatta asks gently but without much interest; at least to Genji’s ears. He has stopped to lightly brush his fingertips along the bark of a tree and around a hole in its stem where a branch must have sat many years ago. The motion looks familiar; like Zenyatta has done it a many hundred times already.

Genji stares at his long, slim fingers, aware that usually he would have fucked this guy the day he arrived at this little temple.

He feels awkward in his own skin; like he isn’t himself anymore and he couldn’t say why that is. Just because he lost against boring, ol’ Hanzo?

“Of course I do,” he says finally.

Zenyatta turns around and smiles at him that little feline smile before he comments mildly: “You have taken longer to respond, this time. Are you second guessing yourself?”

Genji scoffs. “No…”

Zenyatta hums and finally moves on from stroking the tree or whatever. He’s a weird guy all in all; Genji wouldn’t really pay him much attention if he weren’t so hot. He’s constantly running around in a pair of harem pants, showing off his soft looking belly and all that olive skin… it’s quite distracting.

“Come. Let us heal our Pokémon.” Zenyatta peers at him from the corner of his eyes. “You haven’t forgotten about their wounds, have you?”

Genji flushes warm and hurries after him. “‘Course I didn’t…”

They walk a well-trodden path toward a little spring that Genji has visited a few times since arriving here. The water is clear and rich with healing properties. He watches as Zenyatta calls forth his Medicham which hunkers down immediately to scoop up the water and drink from it.

After a moment of hesitation, he calls forth his Lycanroc again. Buddy looks a little dazed still but not the worse for wear. This time, Genji had stopped before any really serious injuries could crop up.

As they watch their Pokémon drink and bathe themselves to revitalize their energies, Zenyatta puts a hand on Genji’s shoulder, startling him with how close he suddenly is. Close enough to smell him; herbal and unobtrusive.

“Have you given my suggestion any thought?”

He scoffs again, trying not to be distracted by Zenyatta’s close proximity. “I dunno why giving them nicknames would change anything.”

Though… Hanzo has given his Pokémon names – lame ones – and he did beat him suddenly…

“It’s not the names in themselves. It’s about a deeper connection with your partners,” Zenyatta replies with the patience of a buddha. “They need to know that they can trust you just as much as you can trust them. How should they, though, if you insist on keeping that barrier?”

Genji hums noncommittal. He reaches up slowly and curls a hand around Zenyatta’s wrist, holding on to him as he turns around, putting them close enough that their chests almost touch.

Zenyatta is so slender it is easy to think he’s much smaller than he actually is. In reality, he’s a bit taller than Genji even. He does not seem perturbed by the closeness or Genji’s grip on his wrist.

Goddamn, the thing is so delicate that Genji can touch his thumb and middle finger around it. That’s weirdly enough a turn-on for him, though it’s been quite a while since he last wondered about his kinks.

“I think me and my team know each other pretty well already. Unlike the two of us.”

Zenyatta slowly smiles. Genji can’t help but feel belittled by it, though the immediate rush of anger that should follow is missing for now. He still feels annoyed, though, his fingers curling a bit tighter still around Zenyatta’s wrist, probably just shy of actually hurting him.

He does not show any discomfort, however. He stays right where he is, smiling, his scent creeping into Genji’s senses warm and herbal.

“Are you laughing at me?” he asks quietly, trying to keep the anger in check that has been plaguing him since his defeat against his stupid older brother. Hanzo who is always so perfect and who gets gifted a damn shiny Pokémon because father knew that Hanzo is more competent than Genji.

Zenyatta’s expression does not change, though he tilts his bald head a little, the rings in his ears catching the midday light of the sun. He is… uncomfortably pretty. Someone that is far out of Genji’s league. The thought makes him almost squirm – he doesn’t have a habit of thinking about others as ‘better than him’. Nobody, really. Except his brother.

“Why would I? Is there something to laugh about?” Zenyatta asks him evenly.

Genji can’t help his low growl. He twists Zenyatta’s arm, marching him back a few steps until he stands against a tree. He knows he must be hurting him at this point yet Zenyatta’s expression remains unchanged. He does not seem too perturbed all in all.

“Is something the matter?” Zenyatta peers at him curiously. “You seem to be fighting some demons, Genji. More and more as the days go on. I do worry about you.”

Genji can feel himself flushing. He presses against the other to pin him against the tree trunk. Their Pokémon have stopped drinking behind them. He can feel their eyes on his back, probably watching whether they’ll have to intervene.

“I’m fine, babe. Why don’t you worry about yourself before thinking about me?” He tries himself at his patented flirty grin but it feels weird on his own face.

“Should I be worried?” Zenyatta asks back. All those questions start to make Genji anxious. He grabs Zenyatta’s other wrist and lifts his arms to pin them above his head. For some reason his naked armpits suddenly on display get Genji going even more. They look so shockingly vulnerable…

“Stop asking so many questions, oh my God!” He presses himself so close against Zenyatta that he can hear him finally gasp as the rough bark digs into his back.

“Should I not?” Zenyatta just keeps asking. “Should I just spread my legs and let you have your way with me, Genji? Mayhaps while you think about how your brother has bested you in combat?”

Genji pulls a face, the heat that has been rushing through his body focusing with a vengeance in his head as he eyes Zenyatta with confused disgust. “Don’t talk about him now.”

“Hmmm… I’m not wrong, though. I don’t believe that I am.” Zenyatta tilts his head curiously, his eyes heavy lidded as he studies Genji’s face until he turns his head away, uncomfortable with the scrutiny.

“I believe that you need to be asked some questions, Genji. In my opinion, nobody has questioned your actions properly in a very long time. You think you can just pluck whatever strikes your fancy. Such as myself.” Zenyatta is relaxed and warm against him. Genji has spent the last few days staring at his nipples, soft and pudgy; he’s been unable to think about anything other than torturing them until Zenyatta’s perfect composure cracked…

But for the first time he can feel himself… pause, staring at Zenyatta from the corner of his eyes while his erection is pressed against the other’s hip. He wants him so badly… but at what cost? Is he ready to force himself onto someone?

Zenyatta smiles that little smile of his, voice dropping lower when he says: “You are spoiled. You faced adversity for the first time in your life and lost… and now you are scrambling to gather what is left of your pride and understand what has happened to you.”

Genji almost recoils, his head snapping around as he stares at Zenyatta in anger and betrayal.

“I am not! Hanzo is the one who always got dad’s approval! He gave him a damn shiny as his first Pokémon ‘cause he thought I couldn’t handle raising it!”

He abruptly lets go of Zenyatta, feeling jittery and like he has to start moving, but now it is Zenyatta who grabs a hold of his belt and keeps him plastered against him.

“Interesting. Despite what you like to show others, you do seem to think quite a bit.”

Genji’s mouth opens but he can’t get a single sound out, too surprised by the sudden verbal attack. He had not thought Zenyatta capable of anything but sweet pleasantries and some buddha anecdotes or whoever he got his wise words from.

It feels like he’s got slapped in the face.

“You feel… betrayed by your brother, do you not? Because he showed himself seemingly inept and then suddenly bested you. Just like you feel betrayed by me now because you did not think of me as more than a toy for you to use just as your other partners. A spoiled boy that does not see his fellow men as human beings but as stepping stones for his inevitable rise to the top of the Pokémon League.”

Zenyatta leans his face in close. Genji can feel the warm brush of his breath against his cheek as he whispers: “As you are right now? You are pathetic.”

He then kisses him with those soft, plump lips; just a press against the corner of Genji’s mouth, adding insult to injury because Genji is still goddamn hard. He just can’t help it. It’s the blood rushing hot through his body; all the agitation is keeping him desperately wanting to pump a load out despite the bubbling anger rising from his stomach and filling his veins like lead.

Nobody has ever-

“You’ve been angry since you got here,” Zenyatta whispers. He kisses him again… and again… Little wet smacks of his cute round mouth traveling over Genji’s cheek and toward his ear so he can croon right into it: “Do you want to finally let go of it?”

Genji works his mouth but he can’t say anything. He wouldn’t know what to say, honestly. He’s completely lost control over the whole situation. He’d just wanted to pump a quick load out and finally get his hands on Zenyatta in the process. He had not been prepared to be stripped so raw by the guy.

Had he been thinking like that of him the whole time? Had he looked at him with that enigmatic little smile and agreeably tilted his head for every single one of Genji’s demands to fight and secretly thought of him as nothing but a grown boy with anger issues?

Zenyatta tilts his hips against him, squeezing his dick between them but also letting Genji feel his corresponding erection. He shudders, goosebumps prickling over his body like electricity as he finally turns his head to put him nose to nose with the gym leader.

“You’re… a mean little bastard, aren’t you?” he mutters.

Zenyatta’s smile widens in response before he answers evenly: “I am not helpless… if that is what you mean.”

It isn’t, not really… but maybe a little? Zenyatta curls a hand around the back of his head, long fingers sinking into Genji’s hair while he watches him intensely. Long enough for Genji’s patience to finally run thin.

He mashes their mouths together, hands clasping the backs of Zenyatta’s thighs, lifting him up and pushing him roughly against the trunk of the tree. It’s not difficult; after all, there is not much meat on him and he eagerly curls his long legs around Genji’s hips.

.oOo.

Hanzo can’t help the grin when Kikuri shoots her last attack and downs Winston’s Magneton. The fight was pretty straight forward and while Winston has proven himself to be a capable gym leader, Hanzo can tell that he is more of a lover than a fighter, as they would say. He doesn’t really know why he’s become Lumiose City’s gym leader in the first place, but it’s also not his problem.

He crouches down as Kikuri comes back to him, visibly pleased with herself. It wasn’t a ‘picture book’ victory and more of a… collaboration between the two of them where she decided seemingly on a whim whether to listen to him or do her own thing, but in the end they managed to get there anyway.

“You did well,” he tells her before retrieving her in the ball.

By the time he gets back up, he’s startled to find that Winston has come closer. Much, much closer. The guy is hunched over a little still, his large hands clasped in front of his chest. In Hanzo’s opinion he looks like a salesman right in that moment. He has that same glimmer in his eyes, too. The look of someone who wants something.

“A wonderful match. Very good,” Winston mutters. After an awkward moment of obviously debating with himself, he thrusts one of his large paws toward Hanzo.

Hanzo stares at it for a second before shaking himself out of it and grasping the offered hand. He can feel the strength in it as Winston very gently squeezes down for a handshake. It seems a ludicrous twist of fate that this introverted man with an intense interest in science and dislike for seemingly anything else should be this natural behemoth.

“Your team is very interesting. Very interesting, yes. Your Salandit… it does not quite listen to you? But you fought wonderfully.”

Winston eyes Kikuri’s Pokéball still in Hanzo’s other hand. “It is quite curious. It is not often you see Pokémon this spirited. They tend to either be obedient or not listen at all. I wonder if it is simply a sign of her breed. Female Salandit are rather cheeky, are they not? Hmmm…”

He has yet to let go of Hanzo’s hand, though Hanzo feels like he’s completely forgotten about that. In fact, he steps even closer, towering over Hanzo despite him trying to make himself smaller by rounding his shoulders and back.

“And that Rapidash of yours… a wonderful coloration. It is the first I have been fortunate to see in person. They are so exceedingly rare, all my encounters have been through text books or video documentations…”

Hanzo quietly stares at him, amused about how talkative he has suddenly become. He’s forgotten all about being awkward, it feels like.

“Would you maybe permit me to-”

The door on the other end of the gym bangs open and Miss Song comes in with a big grin. “There! Look at the two of you! You look very cute together, very cute! I’m super happy to see you getting along so well! Means I don’t have to worry about leaving Uncle in your care.”

Hanzo and Winston have quickly let go of each other, awkwardly dropping their arms to their sides. The relaxed atmosphere from before becomes a little more tense as they watch Hana bounce toward them. She has donned a jacket and is holding a duffel bag in her hand. It looks like she’s about to depart.

“W-What do you mean?” Winston nervously pushes his glasses back up his nose, then changes his decision and takes them off completely to profusely clean with a cloth he procured from the pocket of his labcoat.

“I mean that I sadly have to go, Uncle. There’s something that came up that I have to take care of, so you won’t mind Hanzo accompanying you on your little field trip, hm? He’ll protect you.”

Hanzo frowns and shakes his head as he says: “Excuse me… what? What is that supposed to mean?”

“Calm down. It means just what it sounds like. I came here to escort my Uncle on a field trip and make sure he doesn’t get eaten by a wild Pokémon while he toddles around getting his data…”

Here, Winston murmurs a vague complaint about not being a helpless child, though both Hanzo and Hana ignore him.

“...but unfortunately something came up. As I’ve just said. Keep up, okay? So. You go with him, make sure he doesn’t like… walk into a tree while he’s staring at his clipboard or whatever, and when he’s done you can take him back here. Or sit him in a Corviknight taxi. That works too.”

Hanzo is still shaking his head, not understanding at all, and from the sounds of Winston’s spluttering he’s not too excited about it either. That is, until Miss Song turns to him and says with a smile: “You could study Hanzo’s Pokémon while you travel with him, Uncle.”

Hanzo can feel the noose tightening around his neck quickly. His back stiffens as he tries for a civil approach, saying: “I do not know whether your Uncle would appreciate the life of a wandering trainer. I do have a destination in mind and somewhat of a schedule to uphold…”

Miss Song looks him up and down. “Schedule? Listen, don’t try and weasel your way out of this. Uncle is the sweetest boy you’ll ever find. He’ll just do whatever you say, alright? He just wants to get to the abandoned factory outside of the City. It’s maybe a day of walking. Two max. You be his bodyguard and then make sure he comes back okay. Won’t take much time out of your oh-so-busy schedule.”

Hanzo’s mouth twitches, which is the extent to which he allows himself to pull a face.

“He is a gym leader. Why would he need a bodyguard?”

“I would… appreciate it if you two did not talk about me as if I were an unruly little child,” Winston mutters with an expression of suffering.

Miss Song, true to what Hanzo knows about her, ignores him and instead grabs her bag up off the floor where she had dropped it during their discussion.

“You’ve met him. He’s too much into his research to look after himself. Listen, you owe me after that stunt you’ve pulled during our fight, so go be a good boy and maybe I’ll send you a prototype of one of my toys. I bet you’d love it. Well then uh… see ya!”

.oOo.

Genji keeps pushing into Zenyatta and Zenyatta lets him. He’s making soft noises every now and then when Genji licks into his mouth and tries to tongue-fuck his throat, and their sound is driving him absolutely crazy. He keeps squeezing what little meat there is on Zenyatta’s thighs until he can’t take it anymore and starts to let his hands wander.

Zenyatta pushes back into him then, his arms loosely curled around Genji’s shoulders, his breath hot and wet, puffing against his chin when he pulls back for a moment to probably just breathe.

He’s lightly scratching Genji’s neck and the back of his head, somehow radiating calm even though Genji can feel his erection pressing against his lower stomach. Like he’s still completely in control of what is happening, guiding Genji along with every small twist of his hips, his little plump ass sitting on top of Genji’s dick and grinding down on it seemingly by chance…

How can he be so rail thin and still feel so soft everywhere? And then those noises he is making… little ‘hah… hah… hah’s when Genji does something that he enjoys, and the little whine when his pudgy little nipples are touched. He’s got just enough meat on his tits that Genji starts to wonder how he would look in a tiny little bra… Or how he would like it if Genji tried to fuck them, nudging the tip of his dick against his sensitive, shy nipples-

Fuck, this is… surprisingly good. He’s more aggressive with his kisses than usual but Zenyatta just- well he just absorbs them. He takes the aggression and moans softly in response, egging Genji on further until he starts to dry-hump him. Slow and barely notable at first but becoming faster and more pronounced by the second.

Every time his cock is squeezed against Zenyatta’s ass, he can’t help but hiss in pain. Stupid fucking pants are in the way and chafing against his poor dick. Zenyatta is doing his own thing entirely which is distracting in and off itself; he uses the strength in his legs to drag his own dick against Genji’s belly and from the low, throaty sounds of it the loose harem pants he’s wearing feels a lot better wrapped around his tip than Genji’s heavy jeans do.

“Come on… get ‘em off of me,” he croons against Zenyatta’s ear. He’s sweating like an asshole and just wants to get naked. He wants to feel what it’s like to have Zenyatta bouncing on his dick like a whore. He’s sure it’ll do wonders for his mood.

Against all odds, though… Zenyatta shakes his head and says in a slightly out-of-breath voice: “I think that would be a good incentive for your win, would it not?”

Genji stares at him, brain unable to quite process what is happening as Zenyatta uncurls his legs and slips out from being pinned against the tree. He looks as cool as a cucumber once more… that is, except for the obvious erection tenting his harem pants, a wet spot staining the spot where his crown is pushing against the fabric.

“...You’re kidding.”

“I am not,” Zenyatta replies evenly and with a smile. “If you best me in battle… you can do whatever you want to me.”

.oOo.

Zenyatta’s words keep echoing in Genji’s head. They might be meant as an incentive to get him to come out of his shell or something but he’s not goddamn Hanzo who is into all this spiritual crap and he’s fucking horny.

His dick feels like it hasn’t gone down since that afternoon and it’s been literal hours in which he had to steep in his own juices, staring at Zenyatta, feeling shell shocked that he would actually say no and make him pull back.

He thinks he’s so clever. He thinks he’s got Genji all figured out. He thinks he can train him like some kind of puppy dog, huh?

Well, if he thinks that Genji will just back down now, he’s sorely mistaken. There’s no way he can stick that soft little tongue down Genji’s throat and think he’ll accept a ‘no’ at this point.

Genji restlessly walks back and forth in front of Zenyatta’s room. Everything is eerily quiet in the temple he is residing in; there’s not even the call of any nocturnal Pokémon to be heard.

He stops and listens in closely, trying to hear so much as snoring, but it is completely silent on the other side of the colorful curtain that is acting as a door. He reaches for it slowly, fingers stopping just shy of touching the first fold as he finds himself wondering if he should really go through with this…

He can still remember the feeling of Zenyatta’s lips, though; his soft little tongue rubbing against his; the way he humped Genji, just as desperate for release as he-

His cock keeps pulsating. The ache has pulled up into his stomach, urging him to finally push the curtain aside and step in.

Zenyatta is lying on a thin futon on the ground, covered by a rather insubstantial blanket. It is clinging to the contours of his body, showing him off. It looks… slutty. Especially his round ass outlined with so much detail that Genji can almost see both cheeks.

Fuck, he should’ve done this way earlier. Just… go in and grab what he wants. Hanzo does that all the time, right? Sure, he’s so polite about it, but in the end he always gets what he wants and people don’t bat an eyelash because he’s pretty. Or something.

Goddamn but his cock hurts like a motherfucker.

Genji licks his lips, bites them, stands at the door for a moment longer until he finally gets his act together and advances on the sleeping man. To be honest, it feels a bit like a reboot. He’s been so damn angry since losing to Hanzo. The fire in his chest had simply refused to die out… that is until he’s made out with Zenyatta a few hours ago and it shifted from his chest into his dick.

That’s something he’s well used to. Something he can deal with. Like crawling into a sleeping man’s bed and carefully pulling down the soft sleep pants that are just precariously hanging on to his hips.

It’s Zenyatta’s fault for getting him going and not pulling through with it. Or something. It definitely is his fault for being such a surprisingly deep sleeper that Genji can get him naked and spread his cheeks apart after settling on his belly so he can get a nice, long look at his pussy. His cheeks do a little jiggle once the elastic band is finally pulled down. Genji wouldn’t have thought they had it in them.

God, he’s so hairless everywhere… his skin feels incredibly soft against his knuckles and his hole looks like it too. Soft and vulnerable and so defenseless against Genji’s greed.

It’s a tight little furl of muscle that twitches against Genji’s gently lapping tongue.

Fuck, he tastes so clean and perfect. His asscheeks are soft like dough and dimple when Genji digs his fingers in nice and deep, his nose pressed against the crack. Like this, he can drag his tongue against that sweet little cunt without problems.

He can’t believe Zenyatta would sleep through it.

Eyes closed, he can relax and really focus on the sensation of humping his cock against the ground while he tries to tongue fuck as deep as possible into the relaxed little hole. Every now and then it twitches against him.

His hips ache; there’s a building pressure in his groin that really makes him want to try and squeeze his dick into that silky little sleeve before he explodes – but he has to be careful. Slow.

Genji pulls back, a string of saliva briefly still connecting the tip of his tongue to Zenyatta’s hole before it breaks. The generous slick makes it easy to carefully push one finger into him. His little muscle has plumped up a bit and is greedily wrapping around his second knuckle. It feels like Zenyatta’s body is suckling on him as he finger fucks him nice and slow, not hearing his breathy little moans for the longest time.

When Genji does finally notice, it is only because Zenyatta has started to move as well, lifting his plump little ass up and back… fucking himself on Genji’s finger while moaning softly.

The cheeky little-

Zenyatta reaches back and curls a long fingered hand around Genji’s wrist, keeping him right where he is. Is he a psychic? It’s like he had been able to sense that Genji was about to pull away.

“You… are quite naughty, Genji,” Zenyatta says quietly. He’s breathless and there’s a flush to his cheeks that Genji can’t help but stare at for some reason as he turns to peer at him over his shoulder. “I take it you’ve forgotten all about your brother, then?”

Genji twists his face a little but Zenyatta manages somehow to get up on his knees even with his underwear around his slim thighs and the feeling of his insides suckling on him is more than enough to mollify him.

Yet to be honest… yes. Yes, for a moment, he’s forgotten all about Hanzo and his father and his anger, too focused on trying to fuck his gracious host.

Zenyatta smiles a little and starts to rock his body again. He only lets go of Genji’s hand once he seems certain that he won’t pull back again. Between his supple thighs, his cock and balls are swinging gently; they look as gorgeous and hairless as the rest of him.

“I thought I told you when you can… when you can have your treat.” Zenyatta’s has trouble talking, what with Genji still slowly fingering him, knuckles pressing into the spongy walls of his intestines and fingertip still searching for his prostate. “You’ve already made quite a mess… oh d-dear… did you really want to… to rape me?”

Genji shudders, body breaking out in goosebumps. He immediately wants to deny it but… but fuck. That’s exactly what he’s doing, isn’t it? He’s taken advantage of Zenyatta sleeping to take what he wants.

“You’re out of control, Genji,” Zenyatta whispers. He slowly makes Genji pull back. His hole isn’t gaping, a finger isn’t nearly enough to do that, but it’s swollen and glistening wet with saliva; a sexy little pussy that Genji desperately wants to make out with again.

Zenyatta slowly sways that plump little ass from side to side. Mocking Genji.

“Will you go through with it, then? Will you force yourself on me?”

There’s a tremble in Zenyatta’s voice that makes Genji wonder if that isn’t exactly what he would like to happen right now. His cock jerks, wetting quite a bit and making him even more desperate to fuck into a nice slick cunt. Fuck… why does his conscience have to be such a bitch?!

“I’m… sorry,” he rasps, slowly pulling back and sitting back on his haunches. His dick is howling for release, pulsating and so desperately sensitive that tears shoot into his eyes as Zenyatta hums and turns around on his back. He pulls his hobbled knees up to his chest to get rid of his clothes but all Genji can see how he is offering himself up.

He’s testing Genji, that much is clear even to his overheating brain stewing in its own juices. He feels like he is trapped in some kind of fever dream, staring at Zenyatta’s cock squeezed between his slim thighs, his flushed, swollen hole presented beautifully.

“You have to earn it,” Zenyatta says as if he has no idea what he is doing to him.

When Genji looks up he can see his calculating gaze, though. The smile he shoots him doesn’t look all that innocent anymore all of a sudden.

“Go on, then. You should get enough sleep. Maybe spend some time with your Pokémon.”

Genji slowly stands, obedient as a robot as he walks out on stiff legs, head swimming. He has no idea what just happened.

Zenyatta isn’t even waiting for him to step out entirely before he starts to moan softly; the accompanying wet sound of a hand sliding along a cock nearly has Genji turn around and go through with it after all.

His view of Zenyatta has shifted on its axis and makes him disoriented. Awkwardly following his hard dick toward his own rooms, haunted by the sound of Zenyatta pleasuring himself unselfconsciously, Genji finds a weird little thought flittering through his head.

I want to stay here with him.

---

Next time: Hanzo and Winston on an adventure that turns dangerous... and then steamy!