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He let’s out a long creaking sigh that goes on for longer than his lungs have air for.
“Stop it”, the pig tells him. And he doesn’t have the strength to tell him to fuck off.
The sun beats on him and it’s not like he wears a shirt or anything. His skin’s starting to blister and peel like a nasty lobster. Cicadas yell at him from every directions, just reminding him that hell is a real place and he’s in it. The air feels thick, cooking him from the inside. When a breeze rolls in, it’s like a hair dryer on max. Sweat turns to dust as quickly as it pours out of him, and he’s a right fucking mess.
Their ride had also decided it was too hot, and took a ripe shit right in the middle of their journey to California, and he’d stopped paying attention to where they were after the 400th off ramp. It was a three hour drive to the next town, and Roadhog would rather die than leave that bike. So they would wait for night, but who knew when that would be. They’ve been looking for a spot of shade to stay in, but it’s all dirt and shrubs and rock. Nothing but sharp skinny trees and red earth for miles around.
Before he realizes it, his body lets out another deep moan that definitely sounds like he’s in need of a buggering. And as soon as it leaves him, it’s shoved right back in by a huge sweaty paw that covers his entire goddamn face. The touch makes Junkrat’s skin feel like it’s sloughing off and he screams the best he can with his air holes covered.
“What did I say?” Roadhog’s rumbling voice verberates over him and so does a gallon of his sweat.
“For fuck’s sake, ya yobbo! Don’t touch me!” Junkrat’s fingers fumble over the beast’s hand messily, slick and hot and disgusting. He yanks him off with an angry yowl and ducks away. Junkrat goes to cross his arms in a huff, but he suddenly and painfully remembers one of them is metal. A nice red line burns across his forearm, singed and welting.
“Fuck!” he screeches, waving it around like it will relieve the pain. It just let’s the terrible heat rush over it faster. His blood is literally boiling and he wants to scream.
“I’m about ready to burrow a fucking hole, ya cock! What the fuck are we doing?”
Roadhog grunts and flicks the sweat off his hands, large beads flying down like rain. Sick. He’s not inclined to answer. He just keeps walking, pushing the bike along with him. He won’t even let it sit out while they’re looking around. They would have come back for it, but no.
The water ran out a while ago. Junkrat can’t see anything beyond the ground rippling like an ocean in the distance. The wind rolls in and his brain pulses and throbs trying to escape. He’s never felt such intense suffering in his life, and he’s only got two working limbs.
“Hog, I ain’t gonna make it. Go on without me, mate.”
He meant it as a joke, but quickly realizes that wasn’t true. His leg trembles and buckles under his own meager weight with every step. He shifts to his prosthetic, but pushes too far and trips, hitting the dirt with a sad little thud. The force of it makes his chapped skin rip like paper, and he howls loud. Dirt cakes over his open wounds instantly, hot and coarse. The sting is unbearable, and he can’t get up.
“Dramatic” is growled in his face as he’s lifted up by his bandolier and given a shake. “The outback was worse.”
He’s out of it, drooling in his horizontal state, and his stomach knots up and bubbles. He hasn’t eaten anything since he can’t remember, but he knows what’s happening.
“I’m gonna be sick.”
Roadhog drops him like a sack of shit, and it knocks out what little breath he had. Dust billows around him and he coughs, hacks, and there it goes. He’s yacking up his guts onto the ground, the ol’ technicolor yodel. His hands clench and grab for something, anything, but there’s nothing to spare him. Junkrat knows there’s nothing left in that hollow fucking belly of his, but he can’t stop retching. He tastes blood and his whole body trembles like a beaten dog.
“H-Hog,” he somehow says between heaves, “Mate, I can’t.” The lights are going out. “Please”
“Get up.” He really can’t.
“Hog,” he tries again. Everything is twisty. He’s not even sure if his partner answered him or is just letting him grovel in the dirt. Either way, he’s a whole lot of fucked up. He’s losing it hard, and maybe if he just slept it off it would be okay. Junkrat closes his eyes and rests his head beside his mess, but is lifted up again by big ham hands. He can’t move, doesn’t want to. He just wants to sleep. He hears deep words, but they’re fuzzy and weird. It’s hard to breathe. The world turns up and squeezes him.
The crisp sting of metal is on his back, and he realizes he’s been placed in the side car. Another burn to add to the collection. His head lolls back painfully, and that’s the last thing he knows.
He must be half dead if not all dead. He never thought he’d go out as buzzard food. The way he lived his life, he always thought he’d go out with a bang. What a strange turn of events.
And Hog, what a cock sucker. Now that he’s dead, he’ll never find his treasure, and he just protected his ass all this time for nothing. What an absolute fuckwit.
He’d miss him, though. He sure was a handy wanker, always keeping him out of trouble. Throwing him over his shoulder and hightailing it out of messes that Junkrat may or may not have started himself. Gave him all the snacks when there wasn’t much left to eat. Let him babble and yammer to his heart’s content. Nobody ever let him do that before.
If he still had a heartbeat, it’d probably be playing Roadhog’s song. Not to say he was a poofter, but he enjoyed a right shag if he was feeling it. He never got around to courting his partner in crime, though. Not the best idea to hit on a man as big as a boat when you don’t even know if he’s into schlang. Blokes get beat to death for less.
But damn it if it wouldn’t have been nice. He liked tons of things about Roadhog, especially what a big bogan he was. Huge muscles, soft in the fun places, strong and crazy. He was quiet and serious, but even he’d chuckle at Junkrat every once in awhile. He liked the fucked up laugh that oozed out his mask when people died. He liked that a whole lot. Gave him the shivers.
Shoulda, coulda, woulda. Didn’t matter now. All that was left for him was dark abyss or some shit like that. It was cold, much better than before. Maybe he was a ghost now, and he’d spend all of eternity haunting people. Maybe he’d bother Roadhog from the afterlife, whispering naughty things and watching him bathe. Normal ghost stuff.
He guessed he had the rest of forever to think on things, memories. Not a lot of them were nice. Roadie always made the best of things, even if he was grumpy about it. That really helped him on those hard nights when all he could think of was his ma and he’d wake up crying like an absolute bub. Hog would wait it out, let him have a go, and then give him a candy bar from his secret stash. Sometimes he would just sit beside him and tell him what home used to be like. Put him right back to sleep like it were nothing.
He felt frosty, wet. Can ghosts get wet? It was like he was swimming and he still had all his clothes on. Heavy and stuck. He’d tried to get Roadhog to swim with him once. He had asked if he floated like a buoy or sank like a stone. Roadhog refused to humor him, instead watching from the beach as Junkrat splashed about like a tosser. Afterwards they went on a little heist, got a few grand, and blew it all on quality meals, trashing hotel rooms, and seeing the sights.That had been a good vacation.
He was starting to get upset, a deep feeling, tight and unwelcome. What a fucking galah he was. He had it great, everything was fun, and fuck if he hadn’t missed his opportunity a hundred times over.
There was ice around him and it numbed him something painful, which was weird because he was dead. He felt his body coming back to him piece by piece, until suddenly it was 200 kilos an hour, and the world is bright and too much.
He’s in a bathtub, frigid water bursting over his face and chest, and lets out the longest loudest gasp he’s ever heard. He immediately begins to scramble and panic, the ice packed around him sloshing loudly, making his heart beat like a motor and his whole body shriek. He feels his good hand clawing at the edge of the porcelain, but the other isn’t there. His prosthetics are gone and all he has is burnt, dead, frostbitten flesh. His lungs shrivel like there’s no air left in the world.
It was only a moment of struggling before a big meaty hand presses him back down into the arctic bath, and he cries out, gripping it the best he can and letting out another horrible gasp. He sees Roadhog leaning over him, pushing him down into the water, and he can’t stand it anymore. He reaches up with his only hand and yanks on the man’s harness, pulling him closer until he’s got his lips on that slippery little pignose, kissing it as if it were really him.
Roadhog doesn’t have time to process that. The lack of reaction allows the smaller man to crawl his way up that big muscular arm and out of the bath. The icy water clicks and clacks against the porcelain as it parts for him, and he has trouble without his prosthetics, but he’s all over Roadhog, wrapping his leg around the man’s large middle and doubling his efforts. His hand pulls at the man’s mask, it’s in the way, pushing his skinny body onto him as best he can.
Big hands curl around both sides of him, and he’s afraid he’s going to get ripped off like a damn tick, but they just hold him, pressing large fingers into his skin. The pressure makes his heart skip a beat or 3, and he’s nipping and tonguing at the edges of the mask, his hand kneading and wanting.
The beast lifts himself off the bathroom floor with a loud grunt, taking Junkrat with him, and he can’t be any more excited. He’s hugging the man’s head as he carries him into the bedroom, fingers carding through silver hair, his breath is still so fast and shallow, shivers wracking him. He arches against him and Roadie hums deep in his throat. A high pitched laugh escapes him and he squeezes his bodyguard like a vice.
“Mate, ya can’t be serious. Ya fancy me?”
Roadhog doesn’t answer, but he squeezes him right back, and he can’t keep in the little manic giggle that sets in.
His skin hurts from the burn and from the freeze, but the need filling him takes over his whole body. All he feels is the warm softness around him, the squish of fat under his fingers delightful.
He expects Roadhog to toss him on the bed, but he doesn’t even try to remove him. He sits at the edge and begins to undo the straps to his mask. Junkrat bites his lip and tugs on it as well.
“I bet ya a real looker under there, ain’t ya?”
Hog is obviously taken aback by that, as he fumbles when he lifts the mask, and he doesn’t fumble anything. His large mouth and powerful jaw comes into view, which is the most Junkrat’s ever seen, but it stops there.
“Oh come on! Don’t get shy now!”
“I’m not taking it off.” Roadhog’s voice without the filters is so strange. It’s raspy and clear, but still just as deep and intimidating. It goes straight to his erection.
“Can’t even see the face of the man who’s going to bugger me?”
Roadhog grunts his typical grunt and proceeds to pull Junkrat’s soaked shorts down in one forceful motion. He squirms at the cold air and is suddenly a little shy himself, now that he’s naked and spread out in front of his best mate. He feels his face get warm and crosses his arm over his stump.
“Alright, fine, keep it on! I take back what I said about ya lookin’ a beaut!”
Hog doesn’t answer, but his lips turn up at the edges, and that makes him a bit more relaxed. He lifts Junkrat up with no effort whatsoever until his leg dangles over his shoulder and he’s straddling his face. Junkrat’s shivering all over again and grabs at the silver ponytail in his hand nervously. He’s got half a fat and it's but a breath away from Roadie’s mouth. The beast of a man nods up at him, cupping his ass hard enough to bruise, and pushes him forward. Junkrat watches with wide eyes as Roadhog sucks him in, and he can’t help but immediately whine and moan like an idiot. It’s amazing.
“Jesus almighty!” he whispers, flattening his hand over greasy white hair, “Ain’t ya a nice surprise!”
Roadhog increases the suction in response, and Junkrat arches and clenches his thighs around the man’s head desperately. His mouth feels tight for being so big, and those ham hands are pulling him back and forth, pumping him in and out. His large tongue swirls around and his teeth use just the right amount of pressure. He breathes in deep and shaky.
“Ya a real pro at this! How long ya been at it?”
Roadhog squeezes his ass again, this time not in a sexy way, and he yelps in pain. The big man pulls the cock out of his mouth with a pop and Junkrat knows he’s made a mistake.
“N-Not that ya a slut or nothin’! I mean ya really good! I like it!” He curls over Roadhog’s head as he tries to move away from his bits. “Just excited is all.”
“Then shut up.”
He puts his fingers to his mouth, zips it, locks it, and throws away the key. Roadhog (probably) rolls his eyes and pulls him close again. Junkrat twitches as his wet dick slips back in between those lips. He takes a handful of white hair and tugs gently, putting the most pressure at the base of the ponytail. God what a sweet feeling it was.
He watches intently as his dick is pulled in and out from beneath a dusty leather mask. He doesn't even need to do anything, just sit back and let himself get pushed about. Roadhog’s stubble scratches at his bare thighs with every pull and it's absolutely satisfying.
“Hog, ya-” He's interrupted by strong teeth pressing down a little too hard and he jolts. “S-Sorry. Yeah. Quiet. Got it.”
He says quiet, but it never actually happens. His mouth is open again but all that comes out are moans and dirty things. He's practically doubled over, his forehead touching the top of the mask as he cries out like a miss. Every sound eggs Roadhog on, makes him suck harder, pull deeper. He doesn't even stop him when he pulls his ponytail hard.
Large teeth graze him over and over, and he's starting to tense up. He arches away from Roadhog as he continues to give him what is easily the best blowie of his life. His heart beats fast and unsteady as he leans back into the paws holding him in place. He's a tall bastard, but Roadhog tosses him around like he ain't, and that sure sets the fire in his belly. Those big hands could pop his head off like a bottle cap but instead they're kneading and squeezing him something fierce. He can barely breathe right.
“I ain't gonna last, mate. “
Roadhog pulls him away, drawing his cock out of his mouth, and he knows he's going to tell him to shut the fuck up. He flails in panic at having ruined this again, readying another apology, when Roadhog stops halfway and begins tonguing the slit furiously.
Junkrat makes a noise he'd never be proud of and tremors rip through him immediately, hand squeezing one of the sausage fingers on his back. Teeth chew gently at the head and coax him to give in, and he wishes this could go on forever. He's nearly got tears in his eyes. What a lovely day.
With a loud cry, he comes in his bodyguard’s mouth, locking up as Roadhog milks him dry. His hand grips the man's fingers tightly, lifting his shaky hips up to the soft wet mouth one last time before going loose and limp around him. He awes silently at Roadhog swallowing with a humble gulp, removing Junkrat from his perch and lowering him down onto the bed like he were the most fragile gem in the world, and it makes him warm and stupid. Junkrat’s head falls back and he lets out a long satisfied sigh.
“Why haven't we been doin’ this all along?”
“You're annoying.”
Junkrat kicks him in the stomach with his stump. Roadhog just fits the mask back on quietly. The skinny junker grips the thumb near his waist, as thick as a pipe bomb, and he's getting the shivers all over again. Big hands, big feet, big cock. He twitches as the thick finger presses against his belly unintentionally. He's always been quick to recover, easily riled up. His cock is already thinking about another go, pulsing and wanting. He eyes the big lug up and down.
“Well ya got a taste of me, cobber, how ‘bout I return the favor?”
Roadhog slips his hand out from under him gently and pulls away. Junkrat huffs. He can't have something better to do.
“Come on, ya drongo! Let's go at it! Fuck me up! I'm game!”
He's kicking him with his good foot now, and when Roadhog grabs his ankle with one of his huge goddamn meathooks he can't help the excited laugh that comes out.
“You have second degree burns.”
“Ain't gonna stop me!”
Roadhog lifts the leg in his grasp up, forcing Junkrat to press the rest of his body into the bed, and suddenly he feels the skin on his back screaming at him, blisters threatening to pop. The pressure on the open flaky wounds makes his stomach churn. He shakily props himself up on his elbows, the burn not fading one bit.
“Don't know what ya on about.” His voice is small and cracking and he knows it’s over. He was never a good liar, especially not to Roadhog.
Roadhog grunts and stands up, the bed springing up from the loss of weight, and walks into the bathroom. Junkrat lets himself take a deep calming breath. Now that he wasn't jacked up on adrenaline and his chub was going down, all he feels is pain. He’s stuck in the position, movement making his skin feel alight. Roadhog had been keeping him from stressing it by only touching his lower half. Mighty nice of him to be so considerate. The blowjob was also considerate.
Roadhog is back and he's got something in his hands. The way he looms over the bed makes Junkrat’s hips twitch.
“Turn over.”
“I knew ya'd change ya mind.” He rolls over slowly, trying not to let the pain get to him, but a few whines and groans slip out. His stomach is inflamed as well, but not as terrible as his back and shoulders, which took the brunt of the sun's wrath. This was somewhat more comfortable.
He presses his face into the scratchy pillow and inhales. A cheap motel is better than nothing. His hips lift off the bed expectantly, waiting to be touched again, but instead he's met with wetness, the hissing of an aerosol misting over his hot skin.
“Cold cold cold!”
Roadhog grunts and layers it on thick. But damn if it doesn't feel great. It cools his fried body immediately, loosens the tight flaky parts, makes it not as unbearable. The shock is gone and it's just downright pleasurable.
Roadhog caps the stuff and sets it on the nightstand within easy reach. Junkrat sighs and drools into the pillowcase in his mouth.
“Ya sure treat me right, ya hoon. Ain't no one else in the world that can.”
A large hand rests on his head and it's warm and makes him feel tiny and fragile again. It smells like medicine, metal, and oil, and he loves it. It's making him excited again. He smiles into the fingers covering his face.
“So about that shag?”
The hand leaves him only to come back in the form of a slap to the back.
He screams.