comingupexplody | CATCHALL/OVERFLOW FOR MEMES

From the moments the words left Zenyatta's vocal processor he'd known that they could only inflame Jamie's pride, but perhaps that was half the point. He feels so good himself, and it's wonderful to see the same life flooding the junker's skin and bristling through his slowly-relaxing muscles. He can sense his body even where they aren't touching, as if his very pulse were wireless.

"Of course," he soothes. His tone indicates compliance rather than condescension. "I understand."

One hand is already moulding itself around Junkrat's waist; the other pauses at the junction of his thighs for just long enough to be disarming. Then two fingers slide cleanly into his still-twitching cunt, and it is as though every heartbeat were beating through them instead: I feel, I feel, I feel.

"How wonderful you are, Jamie!" he says, and his voice would be (for anyone else) almost embarrassingly earnest. "You need not have been so shy."

Jamie opens his mouth to protest, prepared to swear up a fresh storm of hatred, but then he's suddenly being filled up and he's so oversensitive that for a moment, all he can feel are those fingers, and the words die in his throat, changing, instead, to a strangled sound of frustrated arousal.

It takes him a beat to actually voice his complaints, his words slurring even more severely than usual.

"M'not shy! Jes-ssus christ!" How the hell has he been shy at any point today? He's equal parts baffled and enraged by that implication. "Wha'd'ya mean by tha'?!"

Jamie all but whines, and some wicked, wonderful urge in Zenyatta wells up to meet the sound, curling his fingers as they slide further into the suckling heat of his cunt.

"Perhaps," he acknowledges, "shy is not the correct word." His thumb glides upwards, skirting that still-sensitive clit. "Defensive."

He sighs softly, resting his head with langurous care against the inside of Jamie's thigh; the skin is hot and damp against the cool shine of his metal and nuzzles into the sensation. "Perhaps we can take our time now. I do not much care for being rushed."

"M'not... ah... mmh, m'not defensive, either." But the words are slurred heavily with pleasure, his body rolling up and onto those fingers instinctively, a silent demand for more, the muscles inside of him wound tight.

It's an almost comically weak protest, all things considered.

Do not play games with me, junker! What did you do to the plant?! [Hanzo glared daggers, almost looking angry enough that his tattoo would start glowing. Almost.] I did not think you capable of it does not involve explosives!

Mate, I ain't got any idea what you're talkin' about!

[And, unlike his response to being interrogated about his treasure, he actually sounds... genuinely confused.

Then he tries to turn, to take a step back, and...

... uh.]

... wot.

"Hush, now," Zenyatta interrupts, clear though it is that whatever Jamie has left to say at this point will be entirely incoherent. He's only half-listening, anyway, snuggling further up his thigh until his Jieba light up the slick pink skin beneath his fingers.

But as much as he's enjoying this, what he really craves is contact, and a lot more of it.

Briefly he considers pulling Junkrat down into his lap, but it seems an uncomfortable and ungainly proposition for the both of them. Instead, he eases his way back up on his heels, pressing Jamie into the tire with his advance as his fingers stroke deeper and deeper- and slides in a third, stretching him around the sudden addition.

"Fff, fhuck you..." But any further words are stolen by the addition of that third finger, his mouth hanging open, voice coming out in a wordless moan; he curses, rolling his hips up to try and fuck himself on those fingers, hands grasping at the edges of the tire to brace himself.

He doesn't care about touching the Omnic. It's not his job to make it feel good or comfortable.

"... hhf. More." His first word, as soon as he can form words again, is a command. He writhes beneath him, needy, almost pleading. "Ca... ca'mon, ca'mon, hhh..."

TFLN!

[from here]

Indeed. You really were quite the mess once I had finished with you.

[Somehow, he manages to prevent the sentiment from sounding callous.]

[... oh god. It's a good thing nobody can see how crimson his fucking face is right now.]

We-- well! What can I say! I know what I like!

[He cackles, and refuses to give the Omnic even an ounce of credit here.]

Edited 2016-12-19 21:43 (UTC)

[cheerily] In that case, you must like me a lot.

[A small pause- should he say it?

... he's going to say it.]

Or my cock, at least.

[WELL he has never said that word out loud before this is very new.]

[WHOA

OH

Jamie literally sputters out loud at that, and Zenyatta might hear wind whistling past the phone as he nearly drops it to the floor-- he catches it at the last minute.]

Ye-- yeah, yeah, that's it, hahahahaha! Y'got me there!

[And right away Zenyatta gives that bright, silvery laugh of his that manages to sound completely and utterly innocent.]

I believe I have had you all along, Jamie.

Wha-whaddaya mean by that, huh?!

I mean that I need only say the right thing you have you hanging on my every word.

[He makes a thoughtful sound.]

The question is, do you have any objection to the word "cunt"? I should hate to cause offense.

[jaMIE IS ABOUT TEN SECONDS FROM THROWING HIS PHONE INTO THE SUN]

No, I don't have any objection to the word cunt, ya cunt!! 'Specially not from the likes a' you!

[It's meant to sound offensive, but obviously falls terribly flat.]

[Make that five seconds.]

Ah, you misunderstand. I am not referring to "cunt" in a general sense- I mean your cunt, specifically. [oh no he's hitting his stride now somebody call the police] Shall I refrain from describing it, Jamie?

[HE'S GOING TO FUCKING KILL ZENYATTA

HE'S JUST DECIDED THAT.]

Why would you wanna describe that anyways? Ha, hahaha ha...! [There's... a weird kind of forced calm there that's utterly failing, giving how loudly he's yelling.] I-- I mean, uh, guess I can't stop ya if you wanna, b-but, yanno...!

[okay now Zenyatta has to hold the phone away from his aural sensors because this is Too Much.

As if that's going to stop him.]

Because it is beautiful, Jamie- much like the rest of you. [so. sincere.] I very much enjoyed being inside of you.

[That cracking sound you hear is Jamie accidentally crushing his phone in his prosthetic hand.

Whoops.

The call cuts off there.]

[... oh, no. He went too far, didn't he? Zenyatta is mortified, yes, but also distinctly concerned that he might have genuinely insulted Jamie.

Against his better judgement, he resolves to check for himself.

A few minutes later there comes a gentle knocking on Junkrat's door, just as it did the first time he invited himself in.]

Jamieson...?

[The door is flung open with a sharp bang. Clutched in Jamie's robot hand is the remains of his phone-- he evidently accidentally smashed it.

His face is crimson, his expression... well. Mixed. He's not sure if he wants to fistfight the Omnic, or jump his bones.

He reaches out and grabs one of Zenyatta's arms, and drags him unceremoniously into the room, slamming the door shut behind him.]

"'Fuck me'?" Zenyatta repeats, amused, and without any real surprise he notices that he quite likes the way the words sound in his voice; his careful intonation lends them a certain reverance that serves, paradoxically, to make them all the more obscene.

Not that he needs to be obscene; Jamie is more than making up for the both of them with his every reaction, whining and writhing and grinding himself down, down, onto his fingers. It's not just greedy- it's as though he's been starved.

Zenyatta, in all his sympathy, can only oblige.

"As you wish." Unwillingly, he withdraws his fingers, marvelling all the while at how slick and bright they have become, coated in Junkrat's arousal.

All the better to apply to his erection. The second Zenyatta touches himself he shivers, lighting up every sensory node through to the soles of his feet with anticipation. As soon as he's prepared himself he leans up a little more, up and over Junkrat's helpless form. His cock, thick and sleek, juts between the two of them, casting a faint glow across his belly.

"Is this what you want, Jamie?" He sounds encouraging and gentle, as though he half-expects to have to coax the yes out of him.

[Of course Junkrat looks either horribly embarrassed or horribly angry, and regardless of whichever it turns out to be Zenyatta is all set with a heartfelt apology to try and soothe him-

- but he doesn't get the chance. Before he can even think about speaking he's whipped into the room. On his feet he might have stood some chance of resisting through his sheer weight alone, but he's caught mid-float and moves as easily as a balloon on a string.]

J-Jamison! [So much for keeping his composure. He stares at the junker, captured hand twitching, almost nervous.]

CATCHALL/OVERFLOW FOR MEMES

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A Very Late Mistletoe

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for tekhartha

Re: for tekhartha

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