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“You should be-- ah --should be sleeping. We have a long drive ahead of us tomorrow--” Hanzo cuts himself off with a sharp gasp as a hot, talented mouth sucks at his exposed nipple. Despite his worries he digs his fingers tighter into Jesse’s hair, holding him close and encouraging him to keep going. A clever tongue flicks against the puckered flesh before sucking hard. “Jesse!”
The gunslinger hums, pulling off with a wet smack and dragging his teeth across the curve of Hanzo’s pectoral. “Gettin’ my second wind, sugar. Better work out this excess energy.” He bites the muscle of Hanzo’s chest hard enough to bruise and the other man throws his head back, smacking into the truck door.
Their safe house overrun by one too many scorpions for Hanzo’s liking, they grabbed what blankets they had and retreated to the truck for the night. Light and heat would have been nice, but they cannot risk being the only light source for miles and miles, and heating the truck would have been a waste of gas. Not for the first time, Hanzo curses these ancient fossil-fuel guzzling old vehicles. There is just enough glow from the moon to see by and the desert may be cold but between the two of them they are generating plenty of heat, enough for the windows to fog with condensation.
The soreness in his skull with bother him tomorrow. Not now. Not with Jesse working their fastenings open and exposing skin to the chilly air. Hanzo realizes that laying there and clinging to Jesse is hardly helpful, so he shoves his hands into Jesse’s pants.
“Jesus Christ,” Jesse hisses before thrusting his tongue into Hanzo’s mouth. He clearly approves of Hanzo taking the initiative.
The truck seat cannot move back any further, and the steering column is tilted up as far as it can go. Space is cramped. Jesse’s ridiculously tight jeans are not helping. “I cannot,” Hanzo starts, yanking at the denim, “get these stupid things down!” One vicious tug makes his leg lose traction and he steps on the middle of the steering wheel. A loud honk sounds in the otherwise still night, and they both jump before breaking out into snickers.
“Hold on, hold on.” Jesse leverages himself up to his knees to give the man beneath him more space. Hanzo uses the opportunity to draw his legs up and wiggle his hakama and his underwear down over one of his prosthetics. It leaves them hanging from the opposite ankle, his lower half bare. He looks up to see Jesse has given up on his task in favor of staring down at him in awe. Even in the low light he can see the bob of Jesse’s Adam’s apple as he swallows. “God damn.”
Hanzo is not sure if he wants to squirm or preen. Preening wins out as Jesse drags his broad, warm palm down Hanzo’s middle from throat to cock, giving him a slow stroke. He arches his hips into the touch and moans as Jesse thumbs at his slit. “Fuck, Jesse.”
“All this cussin’ tonight,” Jesse grins, letting him go to lean over and rifle through his bag in the floorboards. He nearly knocks the truck out of park and Hanzo’s stomach swoops. “Didn’t realize you had such a filthy mouth on you, Han.”
“I would show you how filthy it can be, if we were not so confined,” Hanzo replies, smirking when Jesse bashes his hand against the underside of the glove compartment at the words. “Careful.” Then he spots what Jesse pulls out of his bag. “You brought that with you on the mission?”
Jesse looks at the little bottle held in his hand like it is just dawning on him that having lubricant with him on a mission might be seen as indecent. “Um,” he mutters, flushing enough to be noticeable in the darkness. “Maybe?”
Hanzo narrows his eyes. “You did not plan this, did you?”
“No!” The reply is swift and definite. “No, of course not! I mean, I wouldn’t say I hadn’t thought about it, but I didn’t--none of this was intentional. Uh. Besides, lube has all sorts of uses that ain’t, uh, sexual in nature.”
“Uh huh,” Hanzo deadpans, grabbing the bottle from Jesse and popping the cap. “I am sure you only use it for the most practical of applications”
“Comin’ in handy now, ain’t it?” Then his eyes zero in on Hanzo’s hands as he squeezes a generous amount onto two fingers and slips them down between their bodies. “Shit, darlin’, I wouldn’t done that for ya, all gentleman-like,” he murmurs, hands finally returning to his jeans to push them down his thighs.
“Next time,” Hanzo says, breathless, working his fingers inside to open himself up. A needy groan escapes him when Jesse fists his own cock. “I have been thinking of this for too long to wait for romance.”
Jesse looks ecstatic. “Next time,” he agrees. He coats himself with lube and sets the bottle aside, hands returning to Hanzo’s body to pluck at nipples and squeeze at thighs. “Tell me when you’re ready, darlin’.”
Hanzo bites his lip, breathing slow as he works another finger inside. “Kiss me.”
Happy to oblige, Jesse does a fine job of distracting Hanzo from the stretch and burn. Soon enough Hanzo is fighting to rock up into Jesse’s lap and down onto his own fingers. And when Jesse is not kissing him senseless he is whispering praises, both lewd and lovely, all the while touching him everywhere he needs it. That honeyed tongue is enough to drive Hanzo mad.
“That is good enough,” he pants, pulling his fingers free and grabbing at Jesse’s hips. “Do not make me wait.”
Jesse moves between Hanzo’s thighs, and held breaths are let out in matching groans as he sinks inside. Arms hook under Hanzo’s prosthetic legs and lift until Hanzo gets the hint to wrap them around Jesse’s waist, and Jesse shifts forward until their hips press flush together. Hanzo’s mouth falls open, eyes barely able to stay focused enough to gaze at Jesse, shocked to his core at the feel of finally having the cowboy inside. “Oh,” he breathes, one hand gripping the back of the truck seat. “Oh, God.”
“Too much?” Jesse asks. He holds remarkably still, considering. His thighs clench and back stays tense, but the only thing that moves is his chest and stomach with his heavy breaths. “Do I need to pull out?”
“No.” Hanzo forces himself to relax, concentrating on the length inside him and the sensation of being so full. He had suspected Jesse would be a handful, but he was not prepared for this. Not that there is no pleasure. He can feel it hovering just beyond his reach, just waiting for his body to relax and let him enjoy it. Things would be easier if the seat belt buckle was not digging into his back. “The truck is not ideal for this.”
Jesse’s smile is strained. “Nothin’ but the finest mattress from now, you have my word.”
“Egyptian cotton,” Hanzo agrees. He breathes out and flexes his hips, Jesse sliding just that much further inside and rubbing right up against Hanzo’s prostate. “Oh!”
“Mmm, there you go,” Jesse murmurs, rocking out a few inches and back in, hitting that spot again. “That where you want it?”
Hanzo nods, words failing him. Besides, there is not much room for talking after that. In what feels like no time at all the truck is rocking on its suspension. Hanzo’s prosthetics tap against the fogged windows. The old plastic of the upholstery squeaks. And here, miles and miles from anyone prying eyes and sensitive ears, they have no need to muffle their cries of pleasure.
After, when Hanzo comes down from his euphoria and soreness sets in, he groans and pushes Jesse up enough to scoot just a few inches to the side. “I think I have a bruise on my kidney from the seat belt.”
Jesse makes his own rough sound of agreement, wedging himself in the few inches between Hanzo and the seat. “My foot got stuck in the door pocket,” he admits, resting his head on Hanzo’s shoulder for a moment. “And my ass is freezing.”
Hanzo grins and reaches back to grope said ass. It is a bit chilly. Still quite nice to grab. “Feels good to me.”
“Alright, you,” Jesse chuckles, smacking Hanzo’s chest. They clean up with one of Jesse’s bandanas that he agrees to part with, then rearrange clothing and shuffle around until Jesse is laid out on the seat with Hanzo draped atop him. It is only marginally more comfortable, and they will both ache horribly come the morning, but as tired as they are they can deal. “When we get back to base,” Jesse mumbles, “I’m gonna sleep for a week.”
“Same,” Hanzo says around a yawn.
“Your place or mine?”
“Mine. But you can bring that one blanket you have. The fuzzy one.”
“Can-do, sugarplum.”
Hanzo smiles into Jesse’s chest. The thought of their clean, safe, warm, vermin-free rooms back at the Watchpoint is better than a dream. He begins to drift, body finally ready to succumb to its exhaustion, sleep just on the horizon.
Then a loud howl sounds outside the truck.
Hanzo goes rigid, head shooting up, nails digging into Jesse’s shirt. “What was that?” he hisses.
Jesse barely even reacts, eyes still shut. “Just a coyote.”
“Just a--?” Hanzo glares at the dark window. “What is with this place?!”
The chest beneath his hands vibrates on a laugh. “Hanzo, angel, it ain’t nothin’ to worry about. Pup probably heard us and got curious.”
A perving, eavesdropping coyote to go along with a voyeuristic scorpion. Well, that is unsettling. “Are you sure?”
The arm around Hanzo’s waist tightens. “Nothin’ gonna hurt you with me around, sunshine.”
Hanzo nods, head returning to Jesse’s shoulder. Yes. Jesse is here. Nothing can get to them in the truck. Nothing to worry about.
Still.
He waits until he is sure Jesse is asleep before reaching up and locking the door. Better safe than sorry.