CATCHALL/OVERFLOW FOR MEMES

[comingupexplody]

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[comingupexplody]

Junkrat...

... doesn't know what to do.

That touch is utterly alien, certainly nothing with the warmth and softness of a human-- well, of course not. He hesitates for a moment, though, considering; if this is gonna happen, should he just make the bot do all the work? That does sound appealing, but it also runs him the risk of not maintaining control of the situation-- and he has to remain in control of this.

No. He will. There's no other option. This glorified toy that's touching him can't possibly hope to overwhelm a real, live human being.

He grins smugly at him, a fang digging into his lip.

"What d'ya think I am, some kinda fresh lil' flower?"

[tekhartha]

Junkrat doesn't freeze, exactly, but he doesn't do what Zenyatta expects him to, which is slap his hand away and heckle him for the nerve of it. What he gets instead is a challenge.

"When it comes to you, Jamieson, I must confess that flowers have never crossed my mind at all," he answers, smooth and deadpan. His thumb touches the point of his exposed tooth for a brief second, tempting fate as though it belonged to a tiger rather than a man. But even he would not be so foolish as to bite metal, would he? "I am simply getting comfortable."

Specifically, with Junkrat's body. Zenyatta's already taken the lack of protest as consent to expand his explorations; as the hand at his cheek strokes up into that jagged hairline, his other ghosts down his neck at the delicate spot where it meets his shoulders in a smooth, sensitive touch. He can feel the blood beating beneath the fragile surface of his skin. For such a chaste touch it's far more intimate than it has any right to be.

[comingupexplody]

This is... ugh. Why does this thing need comfort? It's just a body, the same as anyone else's.

"What, you never fuck a human before?" He barks a little laugh-- and he definitely does entertain the thought of biting down on the finger at his mouth. If nothing else, he does drop his jaw open, letting his tongue loll out lewdly over those pointed teeth-- another silent challenge, testing what this machine will do, what it's capable of.

... however, despite how aloof he's acting, how much of a challenge he's trying to offer up, his pulse is definitely racing, though the exact cause is unclear, even to him.

[tekhartha]

An interesting, if antagonistic question. Zenyatta hums thoughtfully, and now he's close enough for the sound to reverberate against Junkrat's skin like the ripples in a pond.

"I have. I must admit, however, that I am somewhat rusty." It is in his nature to be modest, and he is fully prepared to continue to glide through the taunts. But then Junkrat's tongue rolls out like a red carpet to his fingers, and, thus invited in, he finds he cannot resist: he runs a finger lightly over his lower lip, then, abruptly, takes ahold of his tongue between his thumb and forefinger.

Not tight enough to hurt. Just to make a point. "I hope," he continues seamlessly, almost sweetly, "that you will keep me on my toes."

[comingupexplody]

Junkrat gives a small sound of surprise-- he was evidently not expecting that kind of reaction. He yanks his tongue back in, trying to pull those fingers along with it, slamming his jaw shut; not hard enough to break a tooth on the Omnic's shell, but with enough force, he hopes, to make a point of his own.

He adds a sharp bark of sound on top, just in case his aggression isn't quite clear enough.

[tekhartha]

"Wonderful. I, in turn, shall endeavour to keep you entertained."

Zenyatta does not resist; he lets go as Junkrat's teeth clamp down, head cocking ever so slightly to one side, and removes his attention to his free hand. This he moves in an exploratory fashion, cupping the lean, muscled curve of his shoulders before dropping over skin and strap.

His fingers, riddled with delicate sensors, trace the deliberate scars there only briefly before finding his ribcage instead, alarmingly in evidence. There's real affection in that touch, too. For all he's seen it on the battlefield his body is as alien to him as the surface of the moon. To think that the promise of intercourse would bring him this close... it could almost be funny, almost. His forehead glows again. "Would you like me to undress, Jamieson?" It's an offer made out of respect. He isn't trying to shame him.

[comingupexplody]

"Uh, yes?" It's a sharp answer, releasing the bot's fingers from the grasp of his teeth. "Ain't that the point? I wanna see what kinda mess I gotta work with here!"

Make it an issue-- make it out that he's doing this machine a favor. This is a chore-- and, yet, also a show of dominance, him using the other for his own entertainment.

There's a part of his brain, however-- the part of him that crafted his own arm and leg after having lost the ones he was born with-- that is kind of fascinated by the machine in front of him. Not the supposed consciousness contained within it, of course-- he knows that's all code and show. The individual moving parts, however... the frame is complex, intricate, though the machine's actual body shape is slight. They packed a lot of parts into that small frame, some as small as the bones in his own body. He almost gets distracted watching them shift, having never seen the bot this close before.

It's just a mechanical interest. Nothing more.

[tekhartha]

A 'mess' is not the most flattering term Junkrat could have chosen to describe his anatomy, but Zenyatta is willing to make exceptions under the circumstances. With his finger duly released his hand lingers for a few seconds longer than his strictly necessary, cupping cheek and jaw, before he slips backwards and touches his sash, his waistband.

First, the belt. His hips are narrow enough that it takes only gentle persuasion to slip it off, followed quickly by the sash, which ripples elegantly to his feet in a single scarlet ribbon. The whole while he is distinctly aware of himself as a body on display, in a way he hasn't experienced for many years now- not since he found independence.

But, acquisitive though Junkrat's eyes are, there's something softer in there: genuine curiosity, latching on to every little part of him as he exposes it: the wires looping out of his spine, every piston, each plate. Finally, Zenyatta loosens the cord of his trousers and lets them drop. With his modesty plate engaged there's little more on display than there was in the first place but the seams of it are obvious enough. Obscene in their own way, he supposes.

[comingupexplody]

... huh.

Junkrat sinks down to a crouch, unabashedly inspecting the newly-exposed mechanics; he feels no shame about staring hard at the strange new parts, an eyebrow raised.

"... the hell is goin' on here?" He can definitely see that there are parts intended to move-- he just isn't entirely sure how or where, just by eyeballing them. He allows himself to touch, finally, though not too carefully, exploring the layers of moving parts that made up what would be the bot's hips and legs with his fingertips-- he's grown quite used to exploring machines that way, as it was often difficult to see all the way into the little spaces they offered to work in.

Finally, he taps the modesty plate directly, looking up at Zenyatta with a mix of curiosity and frustration.

"What's all this about, huh?"

[tekhartha]

There is admittedly something invasive in the way he all but prowls around him like some kind of mechanical vulture in search of parts. Yet, when he speaks, his voice has softened with his interest, whether he realises it or not. Even his hands move without any particular aggression; they caress his thighs and hips with a mechanical rather than malicious touch. And, though his legs are long and thin they're covered in pressure sensors that thrill at such an alien stimulus.

Zenyatta gives a short, unnecessary sound, something like an intake of breath. How long has it been?

The tapping, at least, is rude enough to refocus around. "That is a modesty panel. Many omnics eschew clothing altogether; in order to make themselves decent, they conceal whatever genitalia they have behind a modesty panel." They were, after all, built for a great many purposes. Zenyatta is not a pleasure model- but then, many of them were built for a great many purposes. Multi-functional. Production was cheaper that way.

"Allow me." Without any obvious shame, he drops a hand to the panel and prepares to unsheathe... only to pause, suddenly. The look in Junkrat's eyes is a compelling enough reason to tease; he's waiting for it now, and he will continue to wait for as long as he chooses.

Only when he detects true impatience from the man does the panel withdraw with a soft shhh of metal-on-metal, releasing his erection: silver, segmented metal, faintly curved and lit up with sensitive nodes along its full length. Just a little behind it sits a silicone-soft entrance, barely visible, smooth.

[comingupexplody]

Well, it's about damn time. He was about to pitch even more of a fit.

... and then the genitalia in question makes itself known, and he does pitch a fit.

"... fuckin' 'ell! Y'gotta be kiddin' me!" He stands up suddenly, staggering a little, and kicks over a pile of scrap nearby, ignoring or possibly simply not feeling whatever pain that might have caused. "This thing gets whatever parts it bloody well wants, and what do I get?!"

He's snarling, violent-- this is unfair.

[tekhartha]

That... was not the reaction Zenyatta was expecting, although he holds his ground with little more than a defensive jerk of his hands, half-raised in anticipation of a blow. Unncessarily. Junkrat's already taking his aggression out on some of the precariously-piled scrap littering the floor. What does Junkrat get? Does it matter all that much to him?

Certainly, it does not to Zenyatta. His body is as a cocoon to him, a temporary shell in which his soul rests, waits. But he has the luxury of changing it at will.

He could probe Junkrat for answers, as he would any other member of Overwatch- but he can see how unwise that would be. Instead, he gives a soft, sympathetic hum.

"I do not know what troubles you, Jamieson, but I am sorry to see you so ill at ease." He spreads his hands by his side in a gesture of willing. "If I can help you, please. Allow me the privilege."

[comingupexplody]

He whips around, staring daggers directly through the Omnic--

-- and then he storms over to him, to it, and he furiously kicks off his one boot, tearing his own clothing and throwing it violently aside.

For a long moment, he just stares at Zenyatta, daring him, silently, to say something-- anything-- about the body he'd just exposed, the body that had caused him his fair share of troubles and confusion.

"You get whatever parts you want, and I'm stuck with all this!"

[tekhartha]

All this.

Zenyatta looks. He looks at Junkrat's long, rangy body; the bruises blooming here and there like green-purple flowers; the scars, old and new; his hips, lean and coltish, and then between them... the surprise lands amongst his thoughts like a stone into a pond, rippling realisations through him one after the other. Those particular scars. Whatever parts it wants. Is that what he meant?

The water smoothes over again, sleek and seamless.

"You are right," he admits quietly. "It does seem unfair. My opinion of you, however- for what little an omnic opinion may be worth to you- is unchanged, Jamie."

Zenyatta takes a chance. He reaches out and gently, fingers splayed, he touches his chin and strokes his thumb across his cheek once more. "Will you still have me?"

[comingupexplody]

Jamison is silent-- he stares at Zenyatta, his eyes burning, the red-orange glow of combustion, fire and coals and molten metal. His breath shakes in his lungs, that narrow frame of his trembling just slightly.

"... they just had ta make ya talk like one a' us, didn't they?" His voice trembles, but doesn't break. "Stupid... stupid piece a trash!"

He breathes heavily-- and then the tension in him simply seems to snap. He grins, manic, tittering under his breath.

"Yeah. Yeah! Fuck it, right? Sure, bot! Let's do this!"

[tekhartha]

Junkrat shudders like a ruined engine and suddenly they seem mere moments away from an explosion-

- that never materialises. He soldiers on, wearing a rictus grin and a gleam in his eye that could as easily be tears as ill-intent- and, for that alone, he has Zenyatta's most sincere respect.

And action.

"As you wish." Without a word more he sweeps forward, a wind of movement, and sweeps one hand down to Jamison's hip; his other takes his jaw and tilts it rudely upwards towards the relentless glow of his Jieba. The distance between them is closed in an instant. The jut of his erection strokes across the junker's skin, warm metal on warmer still skin.

'Trash' indeed.

[comingupexplody]

He doesn't care.

Jamison just... doesn't care anymore. If there's any pain left in his chest, in his mind, he doesn't feel it-- it's swept away under a tide of something much more base, a whitehot energy that isn't entirely different from his own rage and sadness, yet has effectively erased those emotions. His head is numb, his mind gone silent-- all that's left for him to be aware of is his body, all long, stringy muscle and bone and heat.

He's never fucked an Omnic before, for obvious reason-- he has no idea what to do with himself, with his hands or with his mouth, but he tries, reaching down between them with his prosthetic to wrap the unyielding metal of those fingers around the machine's "cock," testing-- wanting to see what he could do to it.

[tekhartha]

Zenyatta gasps.

More accurately, his vocal processors imitate the sound of a gasp with a rippling synthetic sigh, while three of his orbs let loose a wild chime- but that scarcely matters when he's being held and squeezed, those work-rough fingers rubbing along each metal plate and the soft silicone in between. His sensors catch fire; his shoulders sink into Junkrat's body.

"G-good," he manages to murmur, skipping, against his ear. "Like that."

He's out of practise, and all the more sensitive for it, and part of him would very much like to yield to Jamie's brute curiosity and let him do as he will. But that is simply not his style. After a moment to recompose his thoughts Zenyatta moves again and slides one large, long hand between Jamison's legs and the soft space between them.

[comingupexplody]

So it's sensitive. That's good to know-- mostly because of the power it puts in Jamie's hands.

But before he even has time to properly be smug about it, to voice some sort of teasing comment to the machine, its touch is on him again, between his legs, and his body buckles at the contact, legs trembling and then tensing to try and continue supporting him, holding him upright. He can't help but inhale sharply, pulse fluttering beneath the thin, hot skin under the machine's fingers.

"Fuck." Almost in retaliation, suddenly remembering where his own hand is, he holds the bot's cock a little more surely, stroking it less lightly.

[tekhartha]

The results come astonishingly quickly. Junkrat reacts as though he's been electrocuted, the muscles jumping beneath the skin of his thighs around his wrist before they give out- just for a moment, but out nonetheless. Perhaps it's been just as long for him too. Not that Zenyatta is given more than a few seconds for thought before Junkrat's on the offensive again, now moving his hand in a tentative but definite pump up and down the length of his cock.

Somewhere, some place in between the pleasure suddenly lighting up his circuits, he has to force his mind to slow. To take a mental breath, hold it, find himself in the chaos- and then release.

He shudders at Junkrat's grip and edges his hips encouragingly onward.

"Tell me," he starts again, and now his voice is level again, "what feels good to you. Please do not lie."

Because with his hands all over Jamie's body and two of his fingers already teasing the hot, soft, pliant folds between his thighs, he'll know. His touch is exploratory but confident, shamelessly curious.

[comingupexplody]

It's only a few seconds before Jamie seemingly forgets what he's doing, rolling his body down against those fingers, his breathing quick and noisy.

"Hhh... hh, hold on, hold on, lemme just..." He pulls away, his limp even more shaky than usual, and grabs that wheel he'd been using as a seat earlier, dragging it closer. He half-throws himself onto it, sprawling his lanky frame wide open, shame apparently entirely forgotten in light of his remembering just how nice being touched can feel. Even if it's by one of... those.

"... right. Now, where were we?" His voice is a little bit breathy, a little uneven, but he smirks, a sharp fang pressing against his lip, as though he's still fully in control of the situation.

[tekhartha]

Junkrat doesn't so much come undone as he does unravel from the waist, as though his fingers alone could reduce him to little more than a sigh and a quiver. He sways drunkenly back from him, and for a moment Zenyatta wonders if he isn't looking for the space to reassert himself- but he doesn't. Instead, he flops back and all but presents himself, splayed and hungry.

For his part, however, Zenyatta takes his time. He pauses, gently bringing together his index and middle fingers- the ones engaged until scarcely a moment ago- and parts them with deliberate care. A fine liquid thread of arousal spreads between them, glistening on the tips of his fingers.

"Here, I believe," he answers and then moves in and down onto one knee, placing his head level with Junkrat's hips. Nine blue dots glow against his thighs. His hands fan across them to spread them further apart and part the soft, flushed lips between them by just a fraction. His fingers are back to work only a moment later, stroking up and down in experimental lengths and shapes while his thumb caresses the hard little node of Junkrat's clit. It's coming back to him, little by little.

[comingupexplody]

Jamie can feel the pounding of his own heart all through his body, pulsing and tingling at the tips of his limbs-- the ones that contain blood, that is. His long, lean body rolls and shifts beneath the machine's touch, his cunt already far more slick than likely expected; it's been a while since someone else touched him like that, and it's bliss, his dirty, scarred skin flush beneath the soot, narrow chest heaving. He props himself up on his elbows so that he can see, and there's something deeply amusing to him about the sight of a bot there between his legs-- he's rapidly beginning to wonder if this could be at least one good use for them.

... quite all of a sudden, his head tips back, his muscles winding tight, and his legs tremble as he curses loudly, cunt visibly pulsing with his sudden climax. He breathes hard, curling in on himself, his hips bucking against Zenyatta's fingers as he rides it out.

[tekhartha]

Lovemaking, Zenyatta remembers, has always been intense, near infectious; every wracking gasp seems to come from within his own chest, each spasm from his own servos, twitching in time to the pulse he can feel throbbing through Junkrat's cunt, harder and harder. Unadulterated physical intimacy.

Sometimes a partner's orgasm has been enough for Zenyatta to reach a peak of his own- but not this time. Even he cannot predict how just how quickly the pleasure mounts within Junkrat's body, and before he can even think to temper his touches the junker hits a messy climax.

His fingers grind, both literally and belatedly, to a somewhat bewildered halt.

"Goodness," he says, forgetting, for a moment, just how sensitive Junkrat's pride may well be, "you are sensitive."

Humming thoughtfully, he pushes up against the tire and touches Junkrat's cheek again, all affection; slickened fingers hook against his lip as he finds the pulse jumping in his throat. It leaves a glistening streak across his chin. "Your heart is still racing. Are you finished, Jamie?"

He doubts it.

[comingupexplody]

He--

Jamie flushes crimson, his expression indignant, glaring up at the bot with pure fire in his eyes.

"N-no, I'm not finished! I'm just gettin' started!" Even as he's still coming down from that first, rather unexpected climax, he tries to catch his breath, to brace himself beneath the machine. "It's just... been a lil' while, that's all! I got plenty more in me, let's go!"

His tone is a sharp mix of embarrassment and anger, the flush of his skin spreading even to his ears and shoulders.