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A shrill beeping startled the German soldier from his trance. “Scheisse!” Dinner with Jack was minutes away. Pride triumphed over curiosity in a landslide. Reinhardt shot to his feet, refusing to give his friends any more reason to think him feeble and his strength waning. After nearly charging out of his room naked and sticky with his release, Rein spun on his heels with a curse and ducked into the shower. The old soldier set the bar low by aiming for barely presentable, just so long as he doesn't show up covered in jism. Reinhardt quickly pulled his pure white hair back in a messy knot, smoothed out his flowing beard with a comb, and threw on an emblemed black tank and trusty cargo pants. He dashed out with speed not belonging to a man of his size and age.
Outside, the white enameled hallway once again seemed to stretch out as the old soldier jogged down its belly. He belatedly realized he had no clue where he was going, having always used whatever cafeteria was closest to the training grounds. "Athena, where is the Officers' Lounge?" Reinhardt asked as he rounded a corner, and glossy white abruptly gave way to clear sparkling glass as he emerged by the atrium.
"Good evening, Lieutenant." Athena's voice sounded from everywhere and nowhere at once. Omnidirectional audio was a fitting upgrade for an omnipresent AI, though it unsettled Reinhardt. "The Officers' Lounge is two levels above you. The nearest elevator is down the hallway you traveled from, left of the vending machine."
"Gah, Athena, you could have said something," Reinhardt growled as he skidded to a halt, his considerable momentum carrying him forward until his boots screeched with friction. The Crusader threw his weight around his ankle and whirled around in a fluid motion, dashing back into the limpid hallway without missing a beat.
Athena's calm, rhythmic voice followed Reinhardt as he ran down the hallway once more. "Our past interactions suggest if I had said something, you would likely then indicate that you've known the elevator's location all along. It is a paradox my systems are not equipped to reconcile." She said with just a pinch of mirth.
The burly man barked out a laugh as he barreled past his room. "Ah, my friend, you know me too well!" Rein gripped the wall for extra traction as he blew past the ultra-modern vending machine that may well have been a medical cabinet to uninformed eyes. The elevator's doors were already open and waiting when he arrived.
"Thank you," Rein huffed as he stepped in without having to duck, once again grateful that the new base seemed to have been built with his proportions in mind.
Athena selected their destination for him, the floating block numbers all dissipated save for '7'. Reinhardt felt a small surge of gravity as the glass box ascended. In no time at all, the doors reopened with a chime of an old-timey hotel, revealing near-absolute darkness beyond the frosted glass.
"Level seven. Officers' Lounge." Athena announced.
Hesitantly, Reinhardt stepped out into the inky darkness with much confusion, like a cat navigating around tinfoil. He could barely make out the outline of an armchair a few feet ahead, using the soft glow filtering from behind. The elevator chimed once more and departed, leaving Rein wholly shrouded in darkness. It was still enough for him to hear his heartbeat.
"Athena, the lights," Reinhardt called.
No answer came—no blue glow on the ceiling.
"Athena?"
Something felt dreadfully wrong. Reinhardt clenched his fists as he scanned the abyss. He could feel the familiar rush of adrenaline in his chest and hear the sound of blood roaring in his ears to his pounding heart's tidal rhythm. The danger was near and waiting, and Reinhardt was itching for a good fight.
"Come out and face me, coward!"
Suddenly, he saw movement. Reinhardt's attention immediately shot toward the far end of the room. A faint blue light pulsated once, then twice. It was weak at first but grew more solid each time it flashed. Within moments, the blinding fleck expanded into a ghostly but familiar suit of J08 power armor— his armor. Before Rein could think upon it, the blue Crusader roared thunderously and lunged, a brilliant explosion of blue fire burst from his back as he charged toward Reinhardt with astonishing speed.
"Not good." The German soldier gritted his teeth and flexed his fingers. Reinhardt lowered his stance, putting his left leg in front as if preparing for a head-on sprint. It was a bluff he had to make, for even the most minuscule fissure in his posture could lead him to become a bloody smear on his opponent's four-inch-thick pauldron. Reinhardt knew better than any man alive; a charging Crusader was a force to be reckoned with. They were far more maneuverable than their size would suggest, and undoubtedly fatal should he get pinned.
The glowing blue knight continued to surge forward as he conjured a rocket hammer into his hollowed hands. Reinhardt narrowed his eyes, staring down his foe unflinchingly as he closed in, analyzing and reanalyzing every twitch and jitter.
Rein waited for a precise moment: A Crusader's terminal acceleration as they entered killing range at three hammers' length.
Just as he anticipated, a fraction of a second later, the phony Crusader's back bloomed with another brilliant flash of light that blanched the entire room, ghostly blue flames from his afterburner licked the ceiling as it adjusted its angle of thrust one last time.
Reinhardt let loose a ferocious roar and took off in a breakneck dash toward the armored intruder. The blue Crusader's chin tilted up slightly as if surprised, and Rein knew then he had him.
Inches before their meteoric impact, Reinhardt spun on his heel and leapt away, landing on his side with a grunt while the intruder sailed past him with blazing speed, too fast to change course. Reinhardt watched as the Crusader smashed into the elevator doors with a deafening boom, instantly shattering into a million shards of blue light that twinkled into nothingness.
Overhead lights flew on with a rapid succession of sharp pops, forcing Rein to shield his sight from the sudden luminance.
"Surprise!" Gleeful voices shouted from all around him. Rein cracked open his good eye and saw Lena, Mei, Torbjörn, Genji, and Winston bursting out of hiding, surrounding him instantly. Glittering holographic confetti rained down on the crowd, blinking out of existence just before they could touch the ground.
Torbjörn guffawed as he stumbled forward, wiping his tears away with a short, chubby hand. "You should…you should've seen your face," the stumpy Overwatch Chief Engineer managed before succumbing to another wave of hysteria.
"Impressive. Good to you know you've still got it," Morrison said, obviously entertained.
Reinhardt blinked in confusion.
"Welcome back, Lieutenant," came Echo's warm, synthesized voice as she glided gracefully over the prone soldier and offered her hand. "You have to tell me how you did that!"
Finally piecing together what had happened, Reinhardt burst out in thunderous laughter as well, overshadowing even Torbjörn.
"That was most impressive, Echo!" Rein gripped Echo's tastefully crafted forearm, letting her lift him up with ease. "But not as impressive as a real, seasoned Crusader, if I do say so myself. You gave yourself away too soon by tilting your pauldron right before entering the Three Hammers phase."
Echo's wings flexed as she backed away to give Reinhardt some room, her head tilted inquisitively. "Tell me more, Lieutenant." Her holographic eyes shimmered with curiosity.
Reinhardt wondered if such a thing was truly possible, then beamed at the opportunity to lecture. "Ah, you see, my master, the mighty Balderich, who once faced down a thousand— D.Va!" The Crusader squealed in delight when a petite Korean girl wearing an oversized frog t-shirt squeezed through the crowd.
"Hi, Reinhardt!" Hana chirped in her bubbly voice.
Reinhardt gasped dramatically, glancing around to see if anyone else heard D.Va say his name, "you remember my name? ”
"Of course, You're awesome! That was what I'd call a clutch play!"
Rein chuckled bashfully, "Ah, it's nothing compared to you. I've watched all of your heroic deeds, such as that time you seized that huge Gwishin omnic by the head and bashed it to pieces. Oh, it was just glorious. The people of Busan are lucky to have such a fierce protector such as yourself!"
By the oblong dining table, Torbjörn and Morrison traded incredulous looks; Reinhardt, the Braggart of Eichenwalde, humbling himself for once.
"Thanks! You're the best," Hana giggled buoyantly and hugged the bumbling Crusader's waist, her slender arms barely reaching around his back. The room erupted in a wave of laughter. Even Morrison had to bite back a laugh at the sight of Reinhardt's arms shooting into the air, his eyes wide as the full moon, as if Hana were electrified barbed wire.
Tracer greeted Reinhardt with her typical joviality, barely allowing the starstruck soldier to stutter out a response before disappearing in a teal flicker. The ex-pilot rematerialized on the far side of the room alongside Ana and Genji and continued helping them lay out the feast they had prepared, blinking in and out of existence, setting down plates and silverware.
McCree approached when the crowd gradually dispersed across the room, his silhouette unmistakable with his worn Stetson and red serape. However, the cowboy had opted to forego the over-the-top chaps and spurs in favor of standard-issue trainers, jogging pants, and the same black Overwatch tank that Rein donned, albeit in a much smaller size. "That was mighty impressive, old-timer," the cowboy said as he reached out for a gentlemanly handshake. "Reminded me of a good ol' fashioned duel at high noon. First one to flinch gets shot in the face."
"Ah, McCree!" Rein greeted joyously and pulled McCree into a bear hug, squeezing out a strained grunt from the rugged outlaw as he crushed him tight and lifted him half a foot off the floor. Reinhardt had always held a particular affinity toward Jesse, for they were both relics of bygone eras, a knight and a cowboy fighting on in a time where hard light turrets and projected blackholes reigned supreme. "I never thought I'd see you with Overwatch again!"
McCree stumbled back half a pace when he was finally released, red-faced from the German's vigorous embrace. "Well, I never liked having unfinished business. It's about time someone stuck it to those Talon goons again. Plus, it feels pretty nice not having to worry about being killed in my sleep for a change. And just between the two of us, there's something else keeping me here now. Let's just call it a new benefit of the job."
The cowboy subtly dipped his head toward the far end of the room where a stern-faced Japanese man sat primly in his seat by the table, sipping from a black stone sake cup as he warily eyed the room. Reinhardt hardly noticed the man's odd garment made of shining silk, beautifully embroidered, but left curiously unworn on his left arm and chest; the empty sleeve tucked into a blue sash around his waist. The German soldier was immediately mesmerized by the tattoo sleeve on the man's exposed arm: twin dragons interweaving their bodies as they soared in a sky of rolling clouds and squared yellow lightning.
McCree chuckled proudly when Rein took an unconscious step closer, knowing that the old soldier probably saw the tattoo move as he had on many occasions: The dragons' scales shimmered under the light as they slowly coiled around his impressively muscular arms.
"Quite somethin', ain't it?"
"Is that–" Rein felt an urge to avert his gaze when the Japanese man looked over and scowled at them.
"—Yep." McCree beamed and waved back enthusiastically. The Japanese man scoffed and looked away. "That prissy prince is Hanzo Shimada. He's Genji's older brother, the one that almost did him in, remember? He joined up right after you got snatched. If you ask him, he'd tell you he's only here cause he wanted to 'atone for his sins', but…" the cowboy lowered his voice in a goofy impression of Hanzo.
Reinhardt blinked, then barked out laughing as he jabbed at the cowboy's sides with his elbow, "You jest, cowboy. You and him? He could kill you with his little finger!"
McCree feigned offense, "Hey now, I can be pretty darn persuasive when I want to be." He gestured to himself and winked. "'Sides, his aim is…decent– but not as good as mine, of course. I reckon I can take him in a duel."
Reinhardt chuckled and shook his head, entertained by the cowboy's slander. In his years of soft exile with Brigitte, he had heard no shortage of whispers of the legendary Shimada prince and his unerring skill with a bow. "Well, my friend, I salute you for your, er, skills of persuasion. I hope he makes you very happy."
"Oh, believe me, he makes me a very happy man. Sometimes more than once a day." The cowboy smirked. "Well, duty calls. I'll see you around, old-timer." McCree patted Reinhardt's thick shoulder and sauntered off toward Hanzo.
Reinhardt watched the archer squint suspiciously at McCree as the cowboy plopped down in a seat beside him and helped himself to a cup of sake. The German soldier scratched at a persistent itch on his back, but when his fingers touched the afflicted spot, the irritation seemed to migrate somewhere else, wriggling beneath his skin distractingly.
"Hope you're hungry," Morrison quietly crept up from behind, gesturing at the mountain of food being laid out on the table. "And for the record, no, I didn't plan you a surprise party. That was the kids. Mercy told her ninja, and he told Tracer. Once Tracer gets a hold of the news that you're back… well, you know how the rest goes." The Commander sighed mirthfully as he pulled out a chair for Reinhardt before sitting down beside him. Reinhardt had the distinct feeling that despite Jack's denial, he had also played a hand.
"You read my mind, Commander." Rein laughed, his words punctuated by his growling stomach.
"Then dig in, no one's gonna bother saying grace," Morrison said with a nonchalant gesture.
The old soldier obligingly plopped down in his chair and took a deep whiff of the heavenly aromas of the cornucopia before him. He had never been so famished in his life. That he could swear on. Not wasting another moment, he grabbed every dish he could reach and shoveled a copious amount onto his plate until the mishmash of food piled into a small mountain, barely chewing at all as he raked it all in. Someone somewhere in the room began to announce something, but Rein was too enraptured by his meal to care.
"...for our old friend and protector, Reinhardt." Ana's frayed voice proposed.
An abrupt silence caused the German soldier to look up. He nearly choked on a meatball when he saw a dozen pairs of eyes staring at him in terror. He glanced around for a moment before realizing he had pasta hanging out of his mouth, and his long snowy beard was a mess of red and brown juices. The room erupted into thunderous laughter. The hand Ana used to hold her glass trembled hard enough to spill its contents as she laughed, the other hand holding her stomach.
Torbjörn made some half-formed remark about his signature meatballs before falling from his chair with a loud thump, only to emerge a moment later, still guffawing. Genji, Jesse, Lena, Winston, and Mei all laughed as well. Even Genji's prudish brother's eyes glimmered with humor, a hint of a smile tugging at his perfect lips.
Rein quickly slurped up the stray pasta and tidied himself as best he could before muttering to Morrison, "What did I miss?"
"It's your toast, you big oaf," Morrison answered, making sure the room knew what Rein had asked.
"Oh," the Crusader stood up at once, face flushing red. His thighs rocked the table, spilling several people's drinks, causing another ripple of laughter. Rein laughed sheepishly along, reaching back to scratch that annoying itch on his shoulder blade.
"To Reinhardt!" The room cheered as they raised their glasses in unison.
"To Reinhardt!" Reinhardt roared then downed his enormous mug of beer in one gulp, sat down, and got right back to work.
"Jesus, Rein, slow down. We didn't go through all that trouble of getting you back so that you can choke to death on meatballs." Jack teased as he took a bite of his own food and hummed in satisfaction. Torb liked to brag almost as much as Rein. But even Jack had to admit there was something magical about the engineer's cooking.
Reinhardt haphazardly waved off Jack's concern as he stuffed his mouth full with one hand, the other already arranging his third pile. "Let me have my moment, Jack. Talon did not treat my appetite any better than my body." He smacked his lips, savoring the remnant grease of roast duck before gulping down another mug of beer. The buzz of alcohol sent waves of warmth radiating from his belly, hazing his thoughts most pleasantly. He threw himself back with a contented sigh, letting his head lull back against the chair.
The hemispheric Athena module above blinked once– a cheeky wink. Reinhardt smiled and winked back before returning his attention to his friends, absently scratching his shoulder blade once more; it was a pesky itch just deep enough that his trimmed nails could not satisfy.
Ana approached Rein with her glass in hand, and the two briefly commiserated about living life with just one eye before the old Captain raised her glass in a toast. "I'm glad my prayers were answered, Reinhardt. Overwatch wouldn't be the same without you."
"Thank you, Ana," Reinhardt answered, all too happy to seize the opportunity to drink another mug. He relished the mild burn in his throat as more alcohol seeped into his blood, tilting the world merrily off its axis. Behind him, another voice called for Ana, and she walked off with a nod, leaving ghostly afterimages in her wake.
A warm, calloused hand cupped the slope between his neck and shoulder, squeezing with just the right amount of pressure to make the drunken soldier sigh, "Yes, Commander?" Reinhardt turned around to face Jack.
"What?" Jack's blue eyes flicked up from his phone beneath the table, trying to pretend he wasn't trying to squeeze in a few reports during the celebration.
"I thought–" Reinhardt recoiled with a frown, "It's nothing, my friend." The hand squeezed his trapezoid again, the blissful sensation enhanced by his drunkenness. Reinhardt pretended to stretch as he swallowed another sigh.
"It's not nothing. Did something touch you? Something that wasn't there?" Jack asked, sitting up straight.
Rein thought about lying for a sluggish moment but quickly gave up the idea. He clumsily poked at the spot where he felt the warm touch while wondering if he still had room for dessert.
"Are you still feeling it?" Jack interrupted just before he decided to go for a slice of cake.
"No, Jack," Rein slurred, "I'm…just happy to be back … it's nothing," The burly man smiled his dopey smile, and Jack's shoulders relaxed.
"Okay. You let me know right away you start feeling weird shit again. Mercy would want to hear about it." Jack mumbled with his best impression of sobriety. The whiskey he had been sipping all night had crept upon him with a baseball bat.
"Bah," Rein swatted Jack's words and shoved a forkful of lemon meringue cake into his mouth. The world spun faster now. Reinhardt teetered on the edge of shit-faced drunk as he sluggishly devoured his dessert. The sounds of Hana and Lucio's laughter mixed with McCree's silky baritone echoed in the jellied air.
Jack eyed him skeptically for a moment before returning to his report with a grunt, reading the same paragraph over for the umpteenth time. Jack tried hard to hide it, but even being inebriated himself, Reinhardt could easily tell that the Commander was at least quite tipsy.
"Hello again, Lieutenant," Echo whirred intentionally to not startle Reinhardt, her carbon crystalline fingers supporting a stemmed crystal wine glass.
"Huh? Echo!" Rein grinned warmly as he shuffled around in his chair. "You can drink?" He asked curiously, squinting at the glass in the omnic's hand.
Seemingly taken by surprise, the sleek omnic looked down at her glass and laughed with a drunken giddiness. "No, Lieutenant," she flexed her fingers, and the perfect illusion rippled with blue light as she tipped it upside down, the rich red wine poured out and shimmered into blue embers when they reached her feet. "I'm programmed to always adapt to my social setting. Dr. Liao thought it would help me blend in with my human colleagues." She flipped the glass back, and it magically filled with wine once more.
Reinhardt gaped at the lifelike hologram, his sluggish brain screaming that it was the most magical thing he'd seen in his life.
"I can turn off this subroutine if it makes you uncomfortable. After all, I am still constantly improving." Echo scrunched her non-existent brows as she floated closer.
Reinhardt caught himself staring, "No, not at all! I was simply admiring your wine glass; it is a most impressive imitation–" He was cut off by an invisible finger ghosting over the shell of his ear, making his shoulders flinch up. "–I wonder, uh, can you get drunk as well?" Rein cleared his throat, trying to make conversation.
Echo seemed pleased with the question, "Yes! Well, not quite in the same fashion humans get drunk. It's a well-kept secret that Dr. Liao was an avid wine…"
Reinhardt's belly tensed up when a tongue licked a slow circle inside his concha, prompting an immediate response from his cock. The Crusader smiled tightly at whatever Echo was saying, desperately trying to keep the blush on his cheeks in check. Echo's cadenced voice went on as if whatever algorithm she used to simulate human drunkenness made her more talkative as well. Rein nodded along politely while the invisible mouth nipped and teased his ear, switching from side to side at first before multiplying and licking both sides at once. Reinhardt was painfully hard now, his enormous member tenting up his joggers beneath the table.
Beneath his form-fitting tank, more ghostly appendages materialized against his skin. Something slimy dragged against his thighs. Reinhardt yelped and jerked his knee against the underside of the table forcefully, drawing a few startled glances his way. His heart pounded in his chest from a mixture of alcohol, arousal, and the damned tongues flicking against his body.
"Lieutenant? Are you alright?" Echo tilted her head.
"Of course," Reinhardt pursed his lips in an impression of a smile. "I've simply had too much to dr—." Rein's legs kicked out when a slimy tongue dragged slowly from his taint to the underside of his heavy balls.
Echo's wings fluttered in delight, "I see! Perhaps with your permission, I can use this opportunity to improve my understanding of human drunkenness?"
"No, don't!" Rein blurted, he couldn't bear to imagine what an undignified mess he looked like right now, cheeks flushed bright pink, barely able to hold back lusty moans as his own. "I'm sorry, Echo… I fear I'm too drunk to be of good company now." Beneath the table, Rein's cock was drooling copiously inside his grey boxer-briefs. He tucked himself against his belly as discreetly as his shaking hands could manage and stood.
"Oh, I see. Another time perhaps?" The white omnic's disappointment sounded unnervingly organic as she floated toward the side to make way.
"Yes…yes, of course," Reinhardt mumbled as he stumbled past Echo as fast as he could, nearly shoulder-checking her. He could feel Morrison's eyes on his back and prayed that the Commander wouldn't stop him to ask why he was sneaking away from his own welcome party.
The floor shifted as Rein stumbled his way toward the elevator by the Atrium doors, clumsily swatting at invisible nuisances crawling on his skin. Tiles tessellated, the ceiling and floor melting into a blur of white and birch. Why did everything have to be so damned white? The drunk man thought as he felt around for the call button by the elevator doors.
Beads of sweat as big as bullets ran down his neck and back as he endured the sickening sensations all over his body, unable to keep himself from twitching whenever the invisible appendages dragged slowly across one of his erogenous zones. His underwear had already soaked through with his arousal, spreading into a dark spot on his forest-green cargo pants.
Two. Three.
"Come on, come on," Reinhardt muttered urgently as he stared up at the floating numbers through hooded eyes. In his pants, phantom fingers raked across his inner thighs' sensitive skin, hot breaths brushed down his crack, lingering over his unused hole. The German soldier cried out in an embarrassingly tight voice when the hot breath was suddenly replaced with something warm and slick teasing between his cheeks.
The appendage dragged wetly along his cleft all the way to the underside of his ball sac as Reinhardt gasped and shivered before circling back to tease at the tight ring of muscle in circles, flicking back and forth incessantly with all the leisure in the world, because it knew sooner or later, Reinhardt would give in. Just like the countless times he had submitted to it after swearing that he wouldn't, his roars of rage gradually whittling down to breathy whimpers and quiet sobs as he begged to cum, his muscled body sagging against chains holding him upright in the small interrogation chamber.
Talon haphazardly buried the countless memories the parasite chemically imprinted into his brain with a memory wipe before strategically leaving the fucked out Crusader in an abandoned hideout for Overwatch to stumble upon.
Reinhardt grit his teeth and banged his head against the fiberglass wall framing the elevator doors, clenching his cheeks in a last-ditch effort to stop what he knew was coming. The spectral mouth worked him with unerring precision, kissing and lapping and lightly sucking the tight hole. Soon, despite the old soldier's desperation, he felt his asshole relaxing as the slimy appendage teased it relentlessly.
Five.
Six.
Reinhardt's mouth dropped in a panicked but silent moan when the tongue began to push into him, squeezing past his weakly clenching entrance. The Crusader's thighs trembled, his fists clenched. His mind had gone completely blank, rendering him unable to think or feel anything other than the sensation of papillae dragging along his heated inner flesh as it slowly opened him. The tongue tapered thin at first but gradually widened as it stretched his defenseless hole.
Seven.
The elevator chimed at last. Frosted glass doors parted far too slowly. Reinhardt squeezed past the widening gap and threw himself inside, slamming against the far side of the cylindrical lift hard enough to cause it to shake. The silver giant's legs finally gave out when he punched the glowing '5'. The floating menu dissipated instantly when the panel behind cracked and hissed with electricity. The tongue inside his hole continued to push in, opening him up and making him take more. Reinhardt panted on the elevator floor, arms shaking like trees in a storm as he struggled to hold himself up under the onslaught of foreign yet startlingly familiar sensations.
The burly soldier wished with all his heart that the intrusion would hurt, that the thickening appendage currently violating him would incapacitate him with pain, rip him apart and let him bleed to death in an elevator. But he knew the truth, that the raw sensation of being violated by this unseen creature was anything but unpleasant. Rein reached for the round metal rail and shakily hoisted himself up. Inside him, the tongue had stretched three fingers wide, writhing as it flattened over his prostate. Its wet, noduled surface curved along its length as it dragged across his vulnerable gland, journeying further into Reinhardt's insides.
"There's a good boy," Jack's husky voice whispered in his ear as he pressed his naked body against the sweat-soaked fabric of Reinhardt's back. Rein jerked his head toward the sound, but Jack was nowhere to be seen. The Crusader pressed himself against the elevator wall, a lust-muddled terror overcoming him at the sound of his friend's voice speaking to him from inside his head.