I Pray For Your Devotion

Word Count: 5,939

Relevant tags: Overwatch, Hanzo Shimada, Original Character, Brief Fight Scene, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Vaginal Fingering, Oral Sex, Face-Fucking, Love Bites, Vaginal Sex, Rough Sex, Slight Breeding Kink, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Fat Character, Unsafe Sex, Enthusiastic Consent, Dirty Talk, Slight Slut Shaming

I.

"Oh, you again!"

Hanzo blinked out of his trance and turned.

The woman looking at him was extremely short. And also--despite her words and the way she was looking at him--completely unfamiliar. Long black hair was pulled back from a round, open face. The pink scrubs were pristinely kept, and he read her name off of her shiny badge: Erissa. Pretty name. She had a small bag and a receipt clutched in her hand.

“Hello!” She raised a hand in greeting, flashing a wider smile.

"You have me mistaken for someone else." He intended to turn away and put her out of his mind, but she had other plans.

"No...no, I am pretty sure you were here last week. And the week before. And twice the week before!" When he looked back, she was tapping her chin thoughtfully. "I would recognize that jacket anywhere. It's very distinctive!"

It was very distinctive. One of a kind, in fact.

Hanzo wondered if he could get away with pretending he didn't speak English.

He turned to look at her fully. "What is your business?" His voice was curt, clipped, cold.

She looked confused, but not intimidated. "Um...muffins?" She held up the bag.

"Ah."

He stared at her. She looked at him. After a few moments she seemed to realize the conversation was over, and took a step back.

"Anyway, I did not mean to call you out or anything! But it is nice to see you again!"

He eyed her carefully. Probably not an assassin. She wouldn't have called him out so blatantly. Perhaps a spy? Another organization come to court him?

"I will not hold you up any more...shop's closing soon!" She gave him an oddly tender smile and turned away.

Hanzo didn't watch her leave. He approached the counter, and his usual order was waiting for him in a bag. The person manning the counter shied away as he approached, managing to force out a, "Thanks!" when he dropped a generous tip into the jar. He didn't respond.

The walk to his apartment was, as always, solitary. The summer air was suffocating, but he refused to shed his jacket until the day the heat was physically detrimental. Discomfort, he would endure.

His nightly routine was the same. He got home, ordered delivery, worked out until it arrived, ate, and then read for the rest of the night.

Tonight's reading material was a somewhat trashy fantasy novel he'd found at a bus stop. It was utterly flavorless and the plot was lacking any substance, but the fight scenes were remarkably accurate. He punctuated the evening with raspberry white chocolate cupcakes, and sparkling water. The resulting stomachache kept him up in place of the usual nightmares, which was a suitable tradeoff.

He spent the next few days in his apartment, reading and looking for work. It had been several weeks since his last paycheck. He was far from struggling, but his work had always been about absolution rather than money. If he needed money, he could simply take it. Inactivity didn’t suit him.

Still nothing. His previous employer had promised another job within the next four months, and it had only been one. Impatience was unbecoming, but he was getting restless.

When staring at the screen did not materialize job opportunities, he worked out more. When he was too tired to move anymore, he read.

The next days followed the same pattern, rinse and repeat. After the third day, he returned to the bakery, this time for something a little less sweet than a cupcake. All the sugar made his teeth ache, but he still felt he needed something to get him through to the next mission.

This time, he kept his eyes open as he approached. Now that he knew he was not the only regular here (and now that he thought about it, that was a pretty odd assumption to make), he was vigilant.

And there she was, the woman from before. She was leaving as he was approaching, and she didn’t see him. Unwilling to have another social encounter, he hung back, and watched.

She was quite lovely. She was wearing her hair down today, or closer to down. Her bangs framed her face perfectly. She was walking with someone else, a coworker perhaps, and she was laughing at something they said. Her smile was almost blinding, though it was small.

Now that he thought about it, they had definitely met before. He'd seen her several times, and admired her every time, but had put her out of his mind when the time came to go home.

This time there was no conversation, but Hanzo kept his eye on her as they both went about their business.

It wasn't paranoia if someone was after you, after all.

And as it turned out, someone was.

He was only a few blocks away from the bakery when he noticed he was being followed. He could tell as soon as he turned the corner that he wasn’t alone. Someone was in front of him, and they were in no hurry.

He didn’t bother being stealthy as he looked for them.

The woman was small and well-built, and he could see no less than six weapons concealed on her body. She wasn’t trying very hard to be stealthy, and even turned to look him in the eyes as he approached. Her eyes were cybernetic and bright orange, and they moved independently of each other. It was unnerving.

She stopped. He did not.

He walked until they were just outside of arms’ reach of each other, and looked her in the eye.

She was an assassin. It was obvious. Besides how well-armed she was, besides the fact that this was the same path he walked (alone) every day, and besides the fact that she looked like she had been spat out of a bad action movie...besides all that, there was that look in her eyes. Half hunter, half hunted. It was a look he knew well.

He felt no remorse for being the one to free her from that hell.

He saw it, then, a comm in her left ear. She wasn’t alone. He let himself listen for a moment, but he heard nothing else. He didn’t dare look around at the tops of buildings, but he had a guess he knew where her compatriot was.

“Can I help you?”

The challenge was just that. He didn’t suppose she would be goaded into revealing her companions’ locations, but perhaps a bit of gloating would give him a moment to prepare himself.

The assassin said nothing. One of her eyes drifted slowly to the right and, against his better judgment, Hanzo looked. Someone was coming up the street, and quickly.

It was Erissa. She was walking quickly with her head down, hands balled in fists around the hem of her coat. Her bag was slung over her shoulder, and she had her bakery bag wrapped around her fist securely.

Was she the other assassin? He paused for just a moment.

No ...if it were her, she would have pulled the trigger already.

He considered how to make her turn around, but it was too late. Either he or the assassin let out a breath, and she looked up and stopped dead in her tracks. She looked at him, and then at the assassin, and at the gun. Even in the dim of the evening, and even from this distance, Hanzo saw her face pale.

“Behind--!” she started, right as Hanzo heard the movement from the alley.

He threw himself to the side just as when the projectile (bullet? Knife? Arrow? He couldn’t be sure) would have pierced his skull. It whizzed over the other assassin’s shoulder and, finally, she moved.

The assassin launched herself at him, and he saw blades emerge from her sleeves for an instant before they were launched at his face.

The fight was over quickly, and Hanzo was, of course, victorious. Even the second assassin joining in didn’t wrest victory from him. It did make it significantly more difficult, however.

When it was over, he found himself sitting on the pavement, breathing hard. He took stock of himself and his surroundings. The assassins were dead. His bakery bag was in the street, its contents scattered across the pavement.

It was a shame about the muffins. He had been looking forward to them.

“Are you alright? Oh, what am I saying, of course you are not.” Her hands worried at her stomach, and she looked…guilty?

He looked up. He’d almost forgotten that Erissa was still here.

She was coming closer. She dropped to one knee beside him, wide eyes staring at the wounds on his abdomen and shoulder.

“This is quite bad! You need to go to the hospital.” She began to dig through her bad, probably going for a phone.

“Absolutely not.” His hand shot out, grabbing her wrist before she could call for help. He felt a little bit bad when she looked at him with huge eyes, and he loosened his grip. “That is not an option.”

Once her surprise faded, she gave him a surprisingly steely look. He found himself looking away from her displeasure. She wasn't going to back down, he knew right away.

He did not relent, however. He hadn’t gone to a hospital in over a number of years, and he wasn’t about to start now. He’d survived worse.

“You are a healer,” he pointed out. “If you are so worried about me, you can do it yourself.”

To his surprise, she actually seemed to consider it. She looked up and down the street, at the bodies of the would-be assassins. “This is not something I am supposed to do,” she said slowly, “but I am pretty sure you are going to bleed to death if I leave you here.”

“That is unlikely.” Maybe. Possibly. Hanzo wasn’t a doctor. How was he to know what it looked like when you bled out?

“Okay.” It sounded like she said it just to shut him up. She came closer and leaned down. “Well, how about this, then? No hospital. But I will not leave you here with your injuries. We willl think of it like a favor for a favor.”

“Favor?” He repeated, blinking to stop the rolling of his head.

“You did not let those men kill me. I will not let them kill you.”

He blinked at her. “It is hardly a favor. They were not here for you.”

She blinked at him, expression suddenly comically owlish. “Well they certainly were not here for you,” she said sternly. “Now let us get you up.”

He didn’t fight her. She lifted him with ease, though the considerable height difference made leaning on her a bit awkward.

“Oh, um…what is your name?” she asked awkwardly.

He huffed with amusement. They hadn’t ever exchanged pleasantries, had they?

He briefly considered lying, but…she seemed trustworthy. And what could she do with a first name only?

“Hanzo,” he answered, and was granted a beaming smile.

“What a lovely name! Well, Hanzo…can you walk?”

“Where are we going?” he asked.

“To wherever you live,” she answered slowly, as if he were slow for asking.

Maybe not a wise plan, but he had no other. He directed her. She went to dig into his pockets, but he insisted on unlocking the building and door himself.

They got upstairs somehow, despite his injuries and the height difference making the stairs a considerable challenge. She made a noise in the back of her throat when they entered his apartment, but made no comment.

"Where is your bathroom?"

"This way."

His bathroom was surprisingly large, considering the rest of the apartment. They both fit in with room to spare.

She lowered him carefully onto the tile. “Now, please…” She paused for the briefest moment before telling him, “Please take off your shirt.”

That was easy enough. It had already mostly been slashed off of him already. When he struggled with his undershirt, she stepped forward to help him. Her cheeks were still red.

“Okay...it is not looking so bad.” She took a deep breath, and began her work.

She walked him through everything he did, and Hanzo had been in enough fights before to be able to generally keep up. He was accustomed to being tended to, though it had been years. Erissa was as careful and skilled as anyone he had been used to at his home, and she marveled several times aloud that he was the stillest and most accommodating patient she’d ever had.

“If only everyone were like you,” she sighed as she applied another nanomed stitch. "I could get so much done!"

He wasn’t entirely sure how long they knelt in his bathroom. When he felt well enough, she had him move to the bathtub.

“Do not...well, please do not get angry at me, but this is the easiest way to do this.”

He was too exhausted to question or protest when she gently pried his legs apart and stepped over the side of the tub to kneel in front of him. She was careful to position her knees in a way where she wouldn’t bump him, and then she leaned in close to tend to him again.

He distracted himself from the pain of what she did by cataloging the features of her face. Her brows knit together, revealing a worry wrinkle on her forehead. She didn't bother hiding any of her emotions, which is how he knew that, despite her worry at the severity of his injuries, she was also confident in her ability to heal him.

"If I were at work," she said off-hand, "this would go so much faster! Technology is a wonderful thing."

He grunted. "I would prefer this." At her raised eyebrow, he specified, "I meant being off the radar."

She hummed. "You and me both."

When she was done, she cleaned him herself. He tried to do it, but she only allowed his wrist to drop limply against his shoulder twice before she sternly took over.

It took every bit of strength Hanzo had not to drift to sleep while she washed him. She let him keep his boxers on, but stripped him completely otherwise. Now that they were out of danger, she gave a long long look at his tattoos. He saw a hint of reservation in her eyes.

She then began to marvel at the showerhead's long hose, and paid him no mind for several minutes.

Once he was clean, she helped him out of the tub and wrapped him in one of the two towels he owned. She very gently dried him off, immediately scolding him when he tried to do it himself.

A familiar but long-forgotten feeling of warmth rose up in him. He didn’t have the strength to stop her as she cared for him. She pulled his hair out of the tangle it had become, using her fingers to brush it into something manageable. She walked with him to his bed, helping him get down. When falling to his side inspired a wave of pain to wrack him, he found he didn’t hesitate at all to reach out and grip her hand.

“Ssh…” She shushed him softly and reached into her back. She pulled out a small round device that, when she touched the top, emitted a soft pink glow. She placed it down beside his pillow, and immediately he felt the pain begin to ease. “Now that you are out of danger, it should be fine for you to use this.” She gave him a stern look that faded quickly. “If the pain comes back, or becomes sharp, let me know right away.”

He gave her a comically confused look, brows drawn and mouth pulled in a dramatic frown. “How will I do that?”

A brief look of hesitation passed over her face, but she got over it quickly. “I will sleep on your couch tonight, if that is okay. Not just because of this but...I do not want to walk home.” Before the guilt could get its claws into his chest, she continued, “And you can definitely handle yourself, so I feel safer in your presence.”

There was that warm feeling again. He nodded sharply, as if this were a business proposition he were approving.

“Very well.”

She smiled at him, and his stomach churned.

He watched her as she left the bedroom.

He expected sleep to come slowly, but mercifully exhaustion took him quickly.

His last thought was that he hoped their self-control lasted.

They spent the next few days dancing around each other. She checked his wounds daily, and helped him with the everyday tasks that were difficult to complete with multiple stab wounds. At night, she helped him bathe and put him to bed, and spent the nights on his couch.

It only took four days for them to snap.

They were sitting on opposite ends of the couch, as they had the past three evenings. She had just returned from picking up cupcakes for them to share. Hanzo had put on a documentary marathon he was barely paying attention to. He had his phone out, scrolling through job listings that he was barely paying attention to. Holding his head in the same position for so long resulted in a painful ache in his neck, and he let out a hiss when he straightened into a more natural position.

Instantly, Erissa’s attention was on him.

“Oh, does it hurt?”

She moved in close before he could blink, and placed a hand on his chin. His heart skipped a beat as she gently tilted his head to one side, taking a long look at the fading wound on his collarbone.

He took a deep breath through his nose. The single minded attention she gave his wounds was admirable, and he wanted it focused elsewhere.

“No. I am healed.”

“That’s...good…” She trailed off as her eyes came up to meet his.

Hanzo was not a lecherous man, and he had enough control of himself to avoid being forward to the point of discomfort. But he was also a man who knew what he wanted, and saw no reason to hide it. He knew what he wanted, and, looking at his face, she knew what he wanted too.

She didn’t move.

Before she could pull away, he lifted a hand and took hold of her chin. She inhaled sharply, eyes widening. She made no movement to pull away, however. With that encouragement--or simple lack of dis couragement--he leaned forward and kissed her.

It was a slow and careful thing at first, a careful testing of the water before he plunged in. Frosting lingered on both of their lips, but he swore it tasted sweeter when he licked it off of hers. He leaned back, not too far, ready to lean in again if she allowed it. If she pushed him away, this was over.

They said nothing for a long while.

"Well?" It came out demanding, almost petulant.

"Well." She repeated.

She sighed softly and licked her bottom lip. She looked nervous, but she didn’t pull away. After a long while, she steeled herself. He watched it happen: she shifted her weight several times, squared her shoulders, and lifted her jaw. She looked in his eyes and gave a slight nod. Immediately, with no further hesitation, Hanzo pushed on.

The next kiss was harder, heavier, and she leaned into it with no hesitation. A small spark of satisfaction went through him. So that was how she liked it.

He could easily oblige.

When he gripped her forearm and hip and pulled her forward with an impatient snarl, she actually moaned into him. He swallowed the sound.

He pulled away from her mouth. Ignoring her indignant huff, he placed one hard kiss on her jaw, pushing her head up before sinking his teeth into her neck. A surprised yelp blended into a delighted moan, and stoked the fire inside him.

He lifted a hand to her breast with little gentleness. He could feel her nipples already hardened through her thin shirt, and rolled one between his fingers as he roughly kissed and bit at her neck.

One of her hands came up and gripped his arm with the strength he had come to associate with her. She gasped and panted with seemingly little shame into the open air, and he actually watched the blush extend from her cheeks down her neck and chest. He followed it eagerly, wasting little time before sliding the straps of her tank top off of her shoulders and pushed it down her stomach to rest on her hips.

Her breasts were freed eagerly, having barely been reigned in by the tank top. Hanzo wasted no time taking what he wanted. He held back slightly when he pushed her down against the couch, not wanting to actually hurt her just yet. She let out a squeak as she went down, which faded into another gasp as he gently bit down into her breast.

He slid one of his thighs up between her legs, rubbing at her sex. She thrust him against him immediately, gripping him tighter as he bit down and sucked hard on the side of one breast.

“H-Hanzo…”

Hearing her say his name was a thrill, which he intended to experience as many times as possible throughout the night.

The thought of her not enjoying this didn’t even occur to him until he pulled away and she made a small alarmed noise. She frowned, one hand coming up to cup her breast as she looked down at the angry red mark.

“Well?” he demanded again. No apology would be forthcoming, but if she indicated she didn’t want to be marked, he would stop.

She let out a shaky breath, almost a laugh. “Uh...wow.”

When she said nothing else, he leaned back down and bit down gently on her nipple.

Another red mark bloomed on her chest, and another, and another, and another. To his delight, her vocal reactions didn’t cease after the first time, or the second, or the sixth. Each sensation was as novel as the last, and every sound she made went straight to his dick.

He slid his hand down her front and slipped under the waistband of her pants. He found her wet and willing already. He slid one finger inside of her easily, and was rewarded with another cry of his name. He fingered her for only a moment before taking that finger up to find her clit. His finger moved below to the same rhythm of his tongue on her nipple.

He took her mouth again when his fingers plunged back into her, and he ground his palm against her clit. She was trying to keep her hips still, which only made him redouble his efforts to get her moving.

He finally pulled away from her, hand stilling between her legs. He looked down at the blush spreading across her cheeks and chest, and the marks blooming on her breasts and collar, and felt a rush of pride. Her mouth was open and gasping, and every few seconds she let out a breathless whine. Her hips twitched once, twice, desperate for more stimulation. For now, she was denied.

He sat back and began to lick the juice from his fingers. The taste was thrilling, addicting, and hopefully would have the added bonus of exciting her more.

Erissa remained on her back for a moment, staring somewhat blankly in his direction. She was still gasping, still blushing, still trying to hide how aroused she was despite the obvious evidence on his fingers.

She was staring at him with that same look of uncertain hunger. His lips quirked in an almost-smile, and he tapped his knee with his finger. A strange mix of pride and uncertainty and indignance rose up in him, and his next word came out harsh and challenging.

“Well?”

She let out another breath, and sat up on her elbows. The way she stared at him through her eyelashes made him want to shove her back down and--

He didn’t expect her to sit up and slide off the couch. Surprised though he was, he wasn’t going to stop her.

She shuffled around until she was sitting between his spread knees. She reached up and took hold of the waistband of his shorts, giving him a quick look for confirmation. He gave her nothing. She went redder, and began to work them down, grabbing his boxers in the same movement. He helped, lifting his hips and kicking them off the second he could.

She  tried and failed to hide how hard she stared. A thrill of masculine pride went through him. As hard as she was trying, she couldn’t hide how badly she hungered for him. She was practically drooling as she watched his cock bob slightly, eager for what came next. He couldn’t help spreading his legs a little further, tilting his hips to emphasize exactly where he wanted her attention.

She hesitated for so long that he almost asked her if she wanted to stop. Before the words could come, however, she leaned forward and took him in her mouth.

Hanzo was not one to be ashamed, but the sound he made was almost worth feeling embarrassed. She wrapped her lips around him expertly, flattening her tongue on the underside to slick him up. It took her a few moments to gather her courage enough to bob her head, though when she started there was little uncertainty to her movements.

He let his head fall back and closed his eyes, focusing wholly on the heavenly sensation she was giving him.

The first moan she let out surprised him. When he looked down, he found himself meeting her eyes. She was looking at him almost shyly, hiding behind her eyelashes. In this light, they looked almost violet.

He reached down and ran his fingers through her hair, pulling it back from her face. He saw a moment of confusion, which was quickly banished when his grip grew hard. He listened carefully as he pulled her back by the hair, and was pleased that the sounds coming out of her mouth were nothing but pleased.

He shifted his weight to allow him to slouch further down on the coach, and pulled her up on her knees. With better leverage, he held her in place and began to thrust shallow thrusts into her mouth. She continued to do her best, moving her tongue and lips and moaning around him like this was the best thing to happen to her.

For several moments he held her in that position by her hair, fucking her face.

The pressure was starting to build, and just when he felt he was going to burst from it…

He tugged Erissa off of him, and was momentarily distracted by the way her tongue trailed off of him. Her mouth hung open, lips swollen and wet with pre-cum and drool.

“To the bedroom,” he said, leaving no room for argument. Luckily, she had no intentions of doing so, nodding eagerly and standing up shakily.

The distance between the couch and the bed felt oddly long. It felt like a year before Erissa was lying before him, hands awkwardly folded over her stomach.

He kissed her hungrily, one hand returning to her breast while the other worked her shorts and underwear down. She was soaked, allowing one finger to easily slide back in. He swallowed her surprised moan. In contrast to his tongue and his teeth on her mouth, and his hand on her hip, his finger moved inside her gently. He kept her hips in place, not allowing her to move against him as she so clearly wanted to.

“Is this what you want?” he whispered against her mouth, a bit taken aback by the accusation in his own voice. “A stranger, fucking you until you scream?”

They weren’t quite strangers anymore, but it didn’t matter. What mattered was how she responded to him. And she responded strongly , with another high pitched moan and a quick nod.

Another finger joined the first, and he kept them hooked slightly until he found the spot to make her moans high. A bite to her bottom lip had her mouth hanging open, and he lifted a hand from her hip to press his thumb against her bottom lip and tongue. With her mouth open, there was no chance for her to quiet or suppress her moans.

He didn’t have the patience to tease her for very long. He pulled his fingers out and licked them clean again, pleased that this time, she was present enough to see and react with the blushing embarrassment the action deserved.

She watched raptly as he stripped off his shirt, wide eyes trailing down his body. His wounds were mostly healed by now, but he noticed with amusement that she still stopped admiring him to check them.

He distracted her by grabbing her thighs and shoving them apart. She tried briefly to fight him, but he would not be denied.

He took a moment to admire her, drinking in the soft rolls and curves of her body. She had a few scars of her own, and a brief protective flame roared in his stomach. He traced them with his fingers, briefly indulging in the fantasy of seeking revenge in her honor.

Finally, he moved against her. His hips fit so easily against hers, like they were made for one another.

Though he desperately wanted to take her, Hanzo found some amusement in sliding his dick against her clit instead. She responded to the teasing with genuine frustration, whining and trying to push up to meet him, stopped by his hand on her hip. He gave one warning squeeze, and she fell silently, looking up at him with shining, pleading eyes.

“Well?” She threw his question back at him, though it sounded less threatening when she said it so breathlessly.

He pushed in easily, and she immediately lost her composure. Her eyes closed and her head fell back. He almost joined her in her ecstasy. The heat of her was intoxicating, and she gripped him eagerly, as if he was all she wanted. She was so wet that it was easy for him to slide in the hilt, hips flush together in only a moment.

His first few thrusts were slow and gentle, but not for long. Once he felt that she was ready, his hips snapped forward roughly. With her mouth open, she squealed as he hit the first hard thrust, and continued as he set his brutal pace. He kept one hand on her hip, but the other gripped her chin, thumb on her bottom lip to keep her mouth open.

“A little louder,” he teased, almost mocking. “I don’t think they can hear you across the street.”

She whined, but the way her pussy squeezed him, he knew she found pleasure in his words. He almost stuttered in his pace, caught off guard by how good she felt.

Though he was chasing his own pleasure, Hanzo was not an inconsiderate man. He released her mouth and moved his hand down to rub at her clit in the same brutal, unrelenting pace. He didn’t bother now to stop her hips from rising and bucking into his now, only shoving her down when her enthusiasm began to throw off the rhythm.

Even without him keeping her mouth open, she had gotten the hint now. She was unabashedly loud now, chanting his name along with a litany of pleads and affirmations for more.

He paused for a moment, hiking her one leg up to rest on his shoulder and pushing back in. The deeper angle seemed to push all intelligence out of her. The only word she seemed capable of saying anymore was his name, which was exactly how he liked it.

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” he asked, voice hard. “Is this why you spoke to me? You wanted me to take you like this, like the easy fucktoy you are?”

Erissa whimpered, then nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, Hanzo…please!”

Her grip on his forearm was bruising, and he could tell she was getting close. He kept up the same rough pace as long as his body allowed, a little breathless now. He leaned down, fucking her harder, determined to see her finish before he did.

He was rewarded for his persistence when she was reduced to wordless noises, eyes cracking open and catching his gaze. Her mouth fell open and the sound she let out was half-sigh, half-moan. Her leg around his hip squeezed, and her grip on him tightened as he fucked her through her orgasm.

As it trailed off, he leaned down, not letting up as he kissed her roughly. He didn’t let up on her clit, not even when her moans became whimpers and cries of overstimulation.

When he pulled away, she looked thoroughly wrecked, hair falling out of the bun she’d been keeping it in and haloing her face. Her bottom lip was bruised from his rough treatment, and a tear was sliding down her face. Her purple eyes were shimmering as she slipped into a state of fucked-out bliss.

“Hanzo, please…” She reached out and grabbed his hip, pulling him closer.

He knew what she wanted. He leaned back, and let himself chase his own pleasure without remorse. He was so close already, driven to the edge by her enthusiasm, her voice, her willingness, her strength…

When he came, it was with a growl that came from deep in his chest, and he fucked her through it like he had hers. She seemed to enjoy it almost as much as he did, a chorus of yes and please falling from her lips as he filled her.

He kept moving until it hurt to do so, keeping her on edge with him. When he finally stopped, they let out a shared sigh of relief. He slid in and out a few more times, leaning back to look at where they were joined.

When he pulled out, he realized they had forgotten something. Cum was leaking out of her, and he had the urge to push it back in, to truly claim her and keep her.

Instead, he went to the bathroom and got them a pair of wet towels.

He returned to find her still blissed out, thighs rubbing together slowly.

“Still not satisfied?” he teased, realizing only after the fact that it came out sounding mean.

She blushed, but didn’t deny it.

“I am tired,” she said, voice small.

He nodded. He wiped the worst of the mess away from both of them, and removed the soiled sheets from the bed. He let her remain, boneless and floating, cleaning the bed around her.

When he returned, he found her underneath the blankets, curled up and half-asleep. It never occurred to him to move her.

He settled down on the bed beside her, lying down on top of the blankets. He folded his hands over his stomach and fell into the most peaceful sleep he’d had in years.

He woke in the middle of the night to find that Erissa had moved in her sleep, pressed against his side with her arms around him. He pulled the blanket over both of them, and went back to sleep.