as our bodies become still

[twilightscribe]

Title: as our bodies become still
Fandom: Overwatch
Pairing: McHanzo
Rating: r
Prompt: first time
Words: 4160 words

as our bodies become still
Reyes had warned him when he first started.

“Something from this line of work sticks with you.”

He’d thought it would have been something like what they saw or the shit that they had to do. Jesse thought he knew what it was he was getting into. It was stupid, cocky, and naïve to think that was all that was going to stick with him.

It’s true that what he’s seen, what he’s done, will stick with him for the rest of his life. Jesse’s got more than enough nightmare fuel locked away in his head to last him several lifetimes at least. The nightmares are the least of his worries now.

Really, he should have known that Reyes was being literal with that statement.

“I’m not even gonna ask how you can afford this.”

“And we have had this same conversation twenty-two times. I do not understand why you continue to play ignorant when you know the answer.”

Jesse’s worried that he’ll muck up the carpet. Posh hotels like this really aren’t his style. So long as there’s a bed and a roof over his head, he’s good. A place like this, with its lavish lobby and men in firmly pressed suits greeting him when he enters is so far from what he’s used to that he’s got no idea what to do with himself.

He does admit, though, that Hanzo fits in perfectly. Like something outta one of those little periodicals that the booksellers are peddling. Ever since Stoker’s Dracula, his job’s become that much harder. Vampires are, apparently, en vogue now. He can’t rely so much on word of mouth anymore; he’s got to be much more discerning about the information he collects.

“Yeah, I know but… I dunno. It just seems like a lot.”

“You always remember the first the most clearly,” Hanzo says, draping his long overcoat over the back of a finely carved chair. “Hence, my desire is to make it a pleasant experience for you. You should look back on it… fondly.”

Jesse swallows and nods.

Nothing to do about it now. Vampires are possessive creatures and he does owe Hanzo a debt. Besides, he actually likes him. And he never thought that would happen.

Seven years and Hanzo’s been the only constant in all of that. Reyes retired, Jesse took up the reigns of their formerly two man operation. A year in, he met Hanzo. And it’s been the two of them ever since.

He’s the ‘thing’ that stuck.

It’s ridiculous for him to be nervous now. He isn’t a blushing virgin and he’s not been one in years. His pulse is hammering loudly in his ears and his throat’s gone dry. Jesse swallows, but he can’t get the lump out of his throat.

Likely, it’s what the entire thing entails. It’s not really the sex he’s worried about; it’s what comes before.

Shit like this should be simple. An exchange of blood, a quick tumble, that’s it. If he’d not been with Reyes, having to spend hours up to his eyes in books and scrolls written in Ye Olde Language and tiny handwriting that made his eyes hurt trying to decipher it, it would be different. But Jesse knows better.

Fingers ghost along his cheek. Jesse blinks out of his thoughts.

Hanzo’s in front of him, perfectly still. His fingers only lightly rest against Jesse’s cheek, staring at him.

“You do not need to be afraid,” Hanzo says, softly. “I would not hurt you.”

He reminds himself: They’ve both got pasts. They’ve both done shit that they’re not proud of. It’s been a long road to get here.

Placing his hand over Hanzo’s, he presses into the touch and sighs. The chill of Hanzo’s skin against his sends a little thrill down his spine. He brushes his lips against Hanzo’s palm, feels that single, sluggish beat of his heart and the anxiety begins to slowly bleed out of him.

Strange that the near lack of a heartbeat calms him so.

Maybe he is a freak after all.

“We do not have to do this tonight, Jesse,” Hanzo says. “I can wait one–”

“Nah, s’fine,” he replies, squeezing Hanzo’s hand. “You’ve been waiting long enough. ‘Sides, I’m fine now. Just a moment of nerves, is all.”

Hanzo’s brows furrow, he opens his mouth, and Jesse interrupts him again, pressing fingers to his lips.

“I promise, Hanzo. I’m fine.” He smiles, cocks his head to the side, “Told you before that I wanted this and I don’t go back on my word.”

Nipping his fingers, though not hard enough to draw blood, Hanzo lets out a long, cool breath, “There is no coming back from this. Once done, the only method to undo it is my destruction.”

“C’mon, Hanzo, I know what I’m getting into. And I wouldn’t’ve promised myself to you unless I knew what it meant. I’m not gonna want anyone else.”

It’s not like he hasn’t known what’s been waiting for him. Jesse knew the moment that Hanzo chose to save his life that his own was forfeit to the vampire. He’s had years to come to terms with it, which is more than he’d thought at the time. But vampires are patient creatures to go with their passionate natures. Hanzo waited for him.

Besides, what’s not to love about a man who will love him forever?

As cheesy as his thoughts are, it’s the truth: Vampires mate for life.

“What ‘bout you? Not gonna regret taking on a man like me?”

“Never.”

Jesse wants to point out that ‘never’ is a very long time, but his thoughts skitter to a slamming halt when Hanzo kisses him.

Hanzo’s lips are cold against his, shivers racing down Jesse’s spine. He kisses him hard, sending Jesse sprawling back towards the bed. It’s as though he’s trying to pull the very breath from Jesse’s lungs, but giving him his own in place of it; he runs hot and cold all at the same time. Hanzo fists his hands in the front of Jesse’s jacket, pushing it roughly from his shoulders.

When Hanzo pulls back, his eye glitter with lust and there’s just the barest hint of too sharp teeth poking past his lips. He smirks, emphasizing his long canines, and it sends a sharp, hot frision of lust straight to Jesse’s gut. Then, Hanzo takes two slow steps forwards, forcing Jesse back.

The backs of his knees hit the bed. He flails, trying to keep balance, and fails. He lands in a completely graceless pile of limbs. By the time that he scrambles up onto his elbows, his heavy leather duster is now tangled about his wrists and his vest and shirt are very soon going to join them. He has to wiggle, then wrestle, his hands free from their leather and cloth prison.

Hanzo’s already stripped off his own jacket and vest, leaving him in little more than his pressed white shirt and pants. But what distracts Jesse is the hollow of Hanzo’s throat, a bared triangle of skin that’s more tantalizing than anything else he’s ever seen.

He’s only got the haziest of memories of having seeing Hanzo naked. Blood loss and a serious head injury will do that. He remembers twin dragons, blurry and blue, coiling up Hanzo’s arm. That’s all.

A cold hand traces up the naked skin of his abdomen, coming to a halt over his heart, jolting Jesse out of his thoughts. He looks up to Hanzo, crouching over him, who stares down at his hand and what beats underneath – fast and heavy with anticipation. Seven years of waiting, building up to this moment.

Haltingly, Hanzo withdraws his hand, “I… I will go first.”

Jesse nods, swallows with a dry mouth. He opens his mouth, closes it, and swallows again, “So this–”

“I cannot tell you what you will see,” Hanzo replies, straightening so that he straddles one of Jesse’s thighs. In a blurred movement, he unbuttons his shirt, shrugging it off and tossing it to the floor behind him. “Nor can I control it. You…”

“Hey,” he says softly. “Whatever I see, s’not gonna change anything. Not about us.”

It takes a long stretch of time before Hanzo nods, slowly. When he moves, it’s with that careful deliberateness that he only uses when trying not to creep Jesse out – which is ridiculous, because Jesse came to terms with what Hanzo is a very long time ago. He’s stopped being creeped out by the stillness and economy of movement, the rare heartbeats; all of that’s become endearing to him.

With one of those razor sharp nails of his, Hanzo scores a long, deep gash into his flesh directly above his heart. Blood oozes up, painting Hanzo’s skin a deep crimson as it spills over.

He can scent the sharp tang of iron on the air and Jesse’s nostrils flare. His pulse is rushing in his ears, like a roaring river, and his breathing sounds uncomfortably loud in the silence of the room. He takes a steadying breath, pushes himself up onto his hands, and presses his mouth to the wound.

The blood his his tongue like a lightning strike.

Sharp and bitter, rich like a finely aged wine, and the blood sits heavy in his mouth. Hanzo’s blood burns when it hits his throat, lighting his nerves on fire in a cascade of heat.

The images come fast, flickers and snapshots and a deluge of knotted complex emotions.

Hanzo as a young man – handsome and sad. A young man that looks like him. Blood everywhere, staining his hands and he can’t – he can’t – he can’t be dead.

It was me. I had to – I didn’t – I had to.

Blurring whoosh of blue light and energy surging up. The dragons becoming part of him. Darkness weighing down on him, heart struggling can’t be dead can’t be dead. Silence. Not alive not alive.

A beautiful blonde woman standing next to a man with a clockwork heart. Tick-tock, tick-tock. The sound is obnoxiously loud to his ears. Relief and anger and despair all warring inside of him. All of those decades wasted. All for naught.

“I forgive you.”

What is he to do now?

Blur of years, faces, places, words. None of them stick. Nothing but vague impressions. None of it matters. What am I to do now? Why am I all that’s left?

His face – Jesse – and his heart thuds in his chest, sluggish and unused to its own beat. The chill lessens. Peace floods through him; a sense of belonging that he hasn’t felt in years. He wants oh how he wants but he waits, and waits, because he wants him to want this too.

He does.

Jesse’s jerked back by Hanzo’s hands cupped around his face pulling him away. His eyes are wide, worried, “Jesse?”

He blinks, licks his lips. The blood jolts his tongue, but nothing like the shock of before, “Y-yeah…?”

Hanzo kisses him, light and soft, tongue cleaning the last of the blood from his mouth. “Be careful. Do not lose yourself.”

“I’m fine.”

But Hanzo’s blood pulse hot and warm inside of him, changing him in ways that he won’t know till later. It’s cool and warm, all at once. Heady, and better than any drug – even than those fancy cigars that he gets on occasion in the cities that they pass through. It’s easy to see, now that he’s had a taste for himself, how others can so easily become addicted to vampire blood.

Hanzo’s watching him closely, a furrow between his brows that Jesse is honestly surprised hasn’t etched itself in considering how often he sees it.

Reaching up, he smooths it with his thumb, “You keep making that face and it’s gonna get stuck that way.”

“So you have said.”

But it gets the reaction that Jesse wanted: Hanzo’s face relaxes into a small smile and he huffs out a soft laugh, dropping his face into the crook of his neck.

The brush of breath against his neck reminds him that it’s his turn next. He wonders what his blood will tell Hanzo and how much of his past is going to be laid bare. But there’s nothing to be done about it now; he’s made his choice and he’s prepared to live with it. More than that, though, he wants this like he’s wanted nothing else.

He thinks that he probably should’ve shaved his chest first.

“Um, you can–”

“The neck is for feeding,” Hanzo says, tracing down it delicately with one finger. He smiles at Jesse, “A bite there is one of necessity – or dominance. You are more to me than that.” Hanzo trails his finger lower, till his hand rests just above Jesse’s heart, “Here is where mates mark each other – it is closest to the heart.”

Jesse blinks. He hadn’t actually known that. “Oh.”

“You still have much to learn about my kind, Jesse,” Hanzo says, fangs on display and Jesse will not admit what that does to him. “I will teach you.”

He nods, throat feeling oddly tight. He’s got to remind himself that this isn’t his first time, but he’s never done anything like this before. With Hanzo, it’s different. And it’s not the whole vampire-mate thing, either.

Jesse would very much like to bury his head in his hands. He’s being a sentimental fool.

“Jesse.”

He glances down at Hanzo, who peers up his chest at him.

“It will be fine.”

“Yeah, I know. I just… I’m being–”

“Sentimental?”

“It’s not creepy at all that you know that. But yeah.”

Hanzo rests his chin on Jesse’s chest, peering up at him, “There is nothing wrong with the way you are. I would not feel as I do if you were someone else.”

And he’s the sentimental one.

“C’mon, let’s do this before I make a complete fool outta myself.”

“It is a little late for that.”

“Hanzo, I swear if you don’t – ah!”

Hanzo looks at him innocently. But there’s a bright red mark on Jesse’s ribs from where he nipped him, hard.

He gives Hanzo a look, before dropping his head back to the bed and taking a deep breath to relax. From this angle, he has an excellent view of the beautiful tiles that are on the ceiling. Tracing the lines of them is soothing, something to focus on that’s not the building anticipation deep inside of him.

I want this, he reminds himself, I asked for this.

Cool hands stroke up and down his sides, fingers lingering on his ribs and Jesse breathes easier. Hanzo presses cool lips to his skin, leaving a trail of kisses up to the place above his heart.

The anticipation makes the wait feel longer. It feels like eons before Hanzo bites him.

Jesse thinks that it should be painful. He’s seen Hanzo feed before; his victims always have this twisted look of anguish on their faces.

It doesn’t hurt.

He takes a shuddering breath, bites down his lip, and resists the urge to wiggle. His pants feel tight – uncomfortably so – and if he wasn’t hard before, he definitely is now. His hips twitch. He wants to arch up; like his entire body and mind wants nothing more than to become one with Hanzo.

It’s a brief flash of realization: This is why it’s so dangerous to be mated with a vampire.

But it’s too late now. Even now, knowing the danger, he’d make the same choice. Even feeling Hanzo drinking his very life, Jesse doesn’t care.

He brings his hands up, cups Hanzo’s head, but doesn’t try to pull him closer, despite the urge. His eyes flutter closed. He feels… a little light-headed. And like there’s something new inside of him slowly taking root; it’s like he’s lost a part of himself, with something new – Hanzo – pouring in to fill the gap.

When Hanzo pulls back, all Jesse wants to do is pull him back. He wants him to take more of him into him, till there’s nothing left of Jesse except for Hanzo. He can’t, though. It’s not what either of them want.

Instead, he pulls Hanzo up and kisses him.

His blood is on Hanzo’s lips, tasting like iron and salt. It’s in Hanzo’s mouth and Jesse’s tongue chases down the flavour of it. Underneath, there’s the lingering taste of sake – sweet and dry but with that lingering aftertaste of vinegar.

Not-so-good shit, then.

Hanzo laughs, “You do have taste after all.”

“Well,” Jesse pulls back, flops on the bed and gazes up appreciatively at Hanzo, “I am looking at a real vision of beauty right now…”

Hanzo laughs harder, “I’m afraid you are mistaken.”

He leans in, kisses the corners of Jesse’s mouth, his eyes, the tip of his nose, “Since I happen to have the most handsome man under me at this very moment.”

“Flatterer.”

“Is it working?”

Jesse laughs, loops his arms around Hanzo’s neck and tugs him down. It takes a little wiggling, before he’s able to catch Hanzo’s narrow hips between his thighs, “Flattery, hun, will get you everywhere.”

His kisses Hanzo again, grinding up against him.

Hanzo’s just as hard as he is.

He grins, sliding a hand down Hanzo’s chest. Though, he gets a little distracted from his goal by all the newly bare flesh before him. There’s muscle, which Jesse traces with reverent fingers, and, when they pull apart for air, he gets a view of the tattoo that covers the entirety of Hanzo’s left arm – from his wrist, up to his shoulder, and spilling onto his pectoral.

Jesse recognizes the dragons. But he hesitates, his fingers at the edge of it on Hanzo’s chest. The question lingers in the air: Can he touch it?

Hanzo shifts, lets out a soft breath, and Jesse’s fingers make contact with the ink.

There’s no grand shock or anything of the sort. The skin is a little rougher, a little scarred, from the process and it’s not something that becoming a vampire has healed. He traces over the lines, the colours, and admires the intricacy and beauty of it.

Even through the fog of the head injury he’d had at the time, Jesse remembers the dragons. Sinuous and glowing bright blue, twirling through the air and tearing through their attackers. He can’t remember much else of them besides their shape and colour; he’d passed out shortly thereafter and the next thing he remembers is waking up, half-naked and bandaged in a safe house some distance away.

He traces the line of one dragon down to Hanzo’s wrist, then follows the line of the other back up.

Hanzo inhales sharply, and Jesse looks to him.

There’s only a thin line of bright amber around the black of Hanzo’s pupils. His mouth is slightly open, and there’s even a faint hint of pink high in his cheeks. Jesse’s never seen Hanzo come apart like this.

Even though he knows it will be gone before morning, he arches up and nips along Hanzo’s jaw, pausing to suck a mark into the skin every so often. Hanzo shudders above him and Jesse grins, continuing to move lower, down Hanzo’s neck towards his collarbone. In his wake, he leaves bright red marks, which fade quickly to purple; it’s likely that they won’t even last the night.

His mouth finds where Hanzo cut himself, but there’s no trace of the wound now. There’s nothing but a smooth expanse of skin. What body hair Hanzo has is very fine, aside from the dark trail that begins at his navel and disappears under the waistband of his pants.

But Jesse leaves that for now. There will be plenty of time for exploration later.

Now is about sating the need that’s crept under his skin, set his nerves alight, and is slowly driving him wild.

How much of that is pent up sexual frustration or down to the fresh mating bond between them, Jesse doesn’t know. He doesn’t much care either; he’s wanted this for God only knows how long.

Hanzo’s hands don’t remain idle for long. They begin creating a map of their own, trailing along lines of muscle, the puckered lines of scars, and pausing each time they find a spot that makes Jesse shiver. His sides, it turns out, are particularly sensitive.

There’s only so low that Jesse can go without moving. And he really doesn’t want to, not with Hanzo pressed up against him, their hips aligned, and their clothed cocks grinding against each other. The only way it could be better is if they were both naked.

His hands move lower, till his fingers brush against the buckle of Hanzo’s pants. He fumbles with it and curses internally, cause he’s usually much smoother than this.

Cool hands join his, undoing his own buckle and pushing his pants down. Jesse’s got to wiggle to get them off, which he’s pleased to know makes Hanzo gasp. His pants are tossed to the floor, followed soon after by Hanzo’s.

Naked at last.

Jesse’s long known that he’s hairier than Hanzo, because he’s commented on that. He’s a little self-conscious about that, but with the reverent look that Hanzo gives him as he looks him up and down makes warmth settle low in his gut. He smiles, preening under the attention.

“Like what you see?”

“Very much,” Hanzo says, grinning as he leans in to kiss Jesse. The entire length of his cold body presses up against Jesse.

Rather than being uncomfortable, it only makes Jesse feel like he’s burning hotter. The contrast between the heat of his body and the chill of Hanzo’s. He slips a hand between them – not his mechanical one, he learned the hard way that’s uncomfortable – and takes both of their cocks in hand.

He’s jerked off enough times that he knows what he likes. Hanzo’s a different story, but he’s a fast learner.

Hanzo thrusts up into the heat of his hand, a good first sign.

He tightens his too dry grip slightly, one long upstroke and thumbs the head of his cock, then Hanzo’s. He hopes that the precum from his will be enough to smooth the way, but he’s a little surprised by the chilly liquid that leaks from Hanzo’s. Huh, he hadn’t thought – but that thought’s squished when Hanzo decides to lend a hand.

Literally.

Hanzo’s hand settles around his, adding pressure of his own and it’s just right and it’s Hanzo’s hand which nearly sends Jesse over the edge. He bites his lip, squeezes the base of his cock, and fights back the urge. Not yet, it’s too soon…

“We can always go again,” Hanzo murmurs, nipping at Jesse’s ear lobe. Despite the breathy tone to his voice, Jesse can hear the smirk in it.

“M’not that easy, partner,” Jesse says through gritted teeth. He relaxes once the tight spiral in his gut loosens a little, but it begins twisting tighter as their hands move.

And Hanzo’s twists at the top just the way that Jesse likes it.

He thrusts up, chasing after that sensation, and ignores Hanzo’s breathy chuckle because that’s lost in a gasp, too, from the friction.

Neither of them, Jesse thinks, are going to last much longer.

He’s right.

Jesse arches up, biting his lip to stop the cry of Hanzo’s name. It catches in his throat, tearing it raw, and sounds more like a muffled scream than anything else. His cum puddles on his stomach, warm and wet, and he’ll have to clean it later, but he’s feeling too boneless to at that moment.

Hanzo thrusts twice more, before his own cum joins Jesse’s. It’s cold, like the rest of him, which makes Jesse shiver, and he ducks his head to rest against Jesse’s shoulder. Hanzo trembles, arms braced against the bed on either side of Jesse’s head to keep him from dropping down on and crushing his lover.

He doesn’t care, though, and wraps his arms around Hanzo’s waist, tugging him down. He winces at the wet, sticky sensation that comes with it, but he’s not willing to let go of his partner to go looking for something to wipe them off with right then.

“Jesse, hold on–”

Hanzo slips free, despite Jesse’s flailing attempts to grab him and pull him back. It’s pointless, though, because Hanzo’s back in the blink of an eye, dropping the corner of the sheets back into place. Their stomachs are suspiciously dry, but Jesse doesn’t care. All he wants, right this second, is to snuggle up to Hanzo and possible sleep for a day.

He curls up against the vampire, who pulls the comforter over them, and tucks his face into Hanzo’s neck, “Gimme a few – then we can go again.”

“I’m counting on it,” Hanzo murmurs into his hair.