Jamison's legs wrap around the Omnic, pinning him there, over and against him, and he arches up off the tire he's spread out across, wordlessly pleading.

"Fff, fuckin'... y-you know it is..." Both enraged and needy, desperate, his face and body flushed; his narrow chest heaves dramatically beneath Zenyatta, hands clutching the side of the tire too-tightly. "Ca'mon, fuck me...!"

He's beyond caring, at this point-- beyond worrying about looking weak in front of this thing, beyond having too much pride to beg.