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Of all the stupid things Hanzo suspected the American cowboy would pull him into, bathtime hadn’t been anywhere on the list. He couldn’t even remember having done this as a child himself, preferring the ease and privacy of a shower over the communal bath house. The bathroom was too warm and damp from having the water run, scent of Overwatch issue generic-clean bath gel curling around the small space. He’d pulled off his own Kyudo-gi to keep it from getting wet, but left the rest of his clothes on. Inside the tub, McCree sat with his knees up and arms propped up around the back of the tub. Hanzo had to admit, the image of the tall, broad man stretched out in the hot water like that was far from disagreeable, if the surrounding circumstances felt a bit absurd. With his eyes closed and his metal arm removed, he looked peaceful and docile.
There must have been some indication of his disapproval, because McCree grinned like a fool when he opened his eyes. “Aww, come on babe! You could strip outta those pants and climb in here with me, if ya wanted.” He gestured with his right arm to the space in front of him and waggled his eyebrows suggestively. And perhaps, if one were only speaking technically, it was true. They’d lose half the water in doing so, however, and he didn’t think he’d fit without threatening the family jewels, making Jesse a very nervous man indeed. Shaking his head, he took the cloth he’d been lathering and began scrubbing the oaf’s nearest body part, his right arm. Not gently, either.
“I will pass, this time. After all, I do not need it. I bathe regularly, unlike someone.” He punctuated the barb by scooping up a handful of water and flinging it at Jesse’s face. McCree raised his left arm in response, but without the prosthetic hooked on, the water sailed by and splashed him across the face, direct hit. Hanzo couldn’t help but chuckle as the other man sputtered. He continued his washing, first one arm, then the other. When he reached the taller man’s back, he yanked his shoulder down so he could reach.
“Hey!” McCree protested, and pushed back. Water sloshed dangerously up the side of the tub, and Hanzo’s eyes zeroed in on it before jumping back up to his lover. Jesse looked mollified, so the archer sighed and motioned to the tub.
“Wet your hair, so I can wash it.” He instructed, leaning over to reach the shampoo in the opposite corner of the tub. The other man’s small movements ground to an abrupt halt in the corner of his eye, the water still working out the excess energy along the side of the tub and McCree’s knees. Confused, Hanzo looked up to find the cowboy white as a sheet. “Jesse, what is the matt-”
“You know, I think we’re in around about done here. Why don’t I just be finishin’ up in here and do all the cleanin’, and you can go get your bow ready…” If it wasn’t obvious by the fact that his voice had raised an octave, or by the sudden, panicked chatter, the offer to do the cleaning himself would have given him away. Jesse McCree didn’t volunteer for any chore without a good reason.
“Jesse, you need to wash your hair.” He intentionally phrased it like a statement and not a question, because a question then necessitated a response. He didn’t intend to let the other man argue with him. McCree, for his part, hadn’t missed the deliberate choice in language.
They both moved at the same time, Jesse attempting to stand and scramble out of the tub while Hanzo attempted to restrain him. There was a brief struggle, water sloshing out and over, a few muffled curses and a thump. Normally, the American would win any fight without a weapon involved from sheer weight alone, plus several inches of reach. But this wasn’t a wrestling match, and Hanzo had a better center of gravity from his kneeling position, not to mention an extra hand. And McCree had been fleeing, not trying to win. And he was naked, and no man fought their best in their birthday suit.
It ended with a very wet, very naked McCree sprawled face down on the bathroom tile with a damp, angry Hanzo pinning him down. He had one knee in the small of his back, a painful dig that prevented him from using his abdominal muscles to squirm away. The other knee was pressed between the larger man’s legs, not actually hurting him but threatening enough. He used his hands to pull McCree’s right arm behind him in what was undoubtedly an uncomfortable position, and his other limb couldn’t get purchase on the soaked tile floor.
“Are you going to behave while I wash your hair?” Hanzo illustrated his point by curling his fingers into McCree’s scalp and pulling gently at first, then more firmly when he didn’t get a response. There was a muffled groan from the gunslinger’s lips, but no words, so Hanzo edged up his knee until it was flush with McCree’s balls and applying miniscule, terrifying pressure. With a whoosh of air expelling from his lungs, Jesse made a last attempt at escape, squirming and wiggling against Hanzo’s body trying to find a weak point in his hold.
Annoyed, Hanzo maneuvered to sit more fully atop the other man. With only his one good arm to contend with, he felt comfortable leaning back and allowing McCree to squirm and writhe until he exhausted himself simply turning to face the archer. When he finally had- and it took longer than McCree would ever admit to later-he found he didn’t know what to say. He’d been ready for jokes, or maybe something salacious, but the look on his lover’s face was enough to draw him up short.
“Why do you not want to wash your hair?” Like usual - no beating around the bush for this fellow. It was a trait that Jesse normally admired about Hanzo. Right now, he wouldn’t have minded a little more bush beating. He waffled his head back and forth as if considering something, then finally exhaled roughly, almost pouting.
“I just, I mean it’s not - Look, I don’t like dunkin’ my head underwater, okay? I wash my hair plenty enough when I shower.” He bit the inside of his bottom lip as he waited for Hanzo to react to that little gem. It wasn’t something he spread around much, though it was tucked away somewhere in Dr. Zeigler’s medical file on him, if anyone had a mind to go looking for it. Listed under ‘Childhood Phobias’ with a note in his mental health evaluation. He’d put on a brave face during Blackwatch’s training segments around swimming and diving- and had begged off or faked illness out of the ones he could. Eventually, Gabriel had caught on to what he was doing and forced him to ‘buck-up’, as he’d put it. The experience had been as tiresome and annoying to his commanding officer as it had been terrifying for him.
He was not expecting Hanzo’s short reply.
“So?” For all his eloquence and feigned confidence, Jesse just gaped like a fish. He’d expected the calm reassurance Dr Zeigler had fed him, or perhaps a snort of laughter, or pity. Hanzo’s casual indifference was relief and confusion in equal measures, seasoned with a slip of panic. Did Hanzo really not care? Was his pain really that uninteresting to the other man? But it wasn’t disinterest on the archer’s face when he leaned in for a soft kiss. He didn’t sit back, instead leaning down to rest his forehead on the tile near McCree’s shoulder. He felt Hanzo’s beard rub against his shoulder in a rough rasp.
“You should have told me, Jesse. We all have our secrets, but you can trust me.” He didn’t sound reproachful in Jesse’s ear, or angry. Perhaps he sounded just a hair hurt himself, though it was gone when he finally sat up on his lover’s lap.
“I do trust ya’!” McCree was quick to defend. “I just - Ah hell. I was embarrassed, an’ I wasn’t thinkin’.” And he really hadn’t been. When had Hanzo ever shown a disposition for digging into the weakness in others? He would tease, sure. About Jesse’s belt buckle, or his attachment to his hat, or about his absurdly antiquated choice in vocabulary. But never about something like this, something that could hurt him. He didn’t think Hanzo would hurt him at all, and somewhere in his head he’d gotten that a little mixed up.
Hanzo seemed a little relieved, and leaned in for another kiss, this one deeper and more suggestive. Jesse grinned like an idiot, until Hanzo backed up further and hauled himself to his feet. At McCree’s wounded look, Hanzo chuckled and held out a hand to him in invitation for assistance. He took it, pulling himself up until they were chest to chest, then leered down at his partner. The leer didn’t last long.
“Back into the tub.”
The gunslinger looked a little alarmed, hadn’t they just had this conversation? Hanzo just shook his head. “You trust me. I understand.” He inclined his head towards the tub, and McCree sighed and nodded, still unwilling but more unwilling to fight Hanzo. There was no use, anyway. The man was stubborn as a pack mule and twice as scary if you pissed him off, and he wasn’t just blowing smoke when he’d insisted that he trusted him.
When he’d settled back in the tub, the water was only lukewarm. Hanzo pulled the plug, turned the water back on, and ran it hot again. While it heated and then filled, he began stripping down out of his now soaked pants and underclothes. When he was free of them, he held up his obi in dismay, and it dripped dramatically while they both watched. Heaving a sigh, the archer hung the delicate fabric over the shower rail and hoped that it would dry without warping or bleeding. It wouldn’t be the first obi he’d damaged beyond repair, though it would be the first casualty of bathtime, he was fairly sure. He didn’t count that time he’d accidentally fallen into a pond while trying to get a better angle on a target, of course. Even Genji didn’t know about that one, and the house servant who had fished him out was sworn to secrecy.
When the water was hot again, he turned it off and motioned for McCree to scoot forward, knees bent towards his chest and Hanzo threading in behind him. When cool metal slid along his legs, McCree jumped and tried to turn around. “Hanzo, yer-”
“They are water resistant, they will be fine. Lean back, and hand me that cup.” He stated simply, and McCree complied, sliding slick skin as generously as he could while he did so. By the time he’d resettled, his legs were propped up on the corner of the tub and his body was pressed completely flush to Hanzo’s chest. The archer took a moment to admire McCree below him, all tanned skin and dark hair. Fingertips traced over his shoulder from collarbone to waist to hips, then back, causing Jesse to twitch up as his sensitive skin was tickled.
By the time Hanzo made his way back up to the cowboy’s scalp, the man was more relaxed and already halfway to hard. Apparently their little tussle earlier hadn’t been a complete waste, even if it had put several articles of Hanzo’s clothing in danger. With McCree as ready as he was going to be, Hanzo took the cup and filled it from the water around them. With his other hand, he cupped the other man’s forehead and poured the water gently down the back of his head first, then in little bits a bit closer to his face. Hanzo’s hand averted water away from his face, avoiding the cloying choke of water all around him that always caused him to panic. The second cup was just as calm, and the next. He’d grown used to it enough that Hanzo’s pause for the shampoo made him turn his head and glanced back to see what was wrong. Realizing what he’d done, McCree grinned sheepishly and let Hanzo lather shampoo into his hair.
When his hair was clean, the large man heaved and sigh and leaned back with more pressure against Hanzo, tilting his head onto the shorter man’s shoulder affectionately. Hanzo, despite himself, smiled and turned Jesse’s head to place a chaste kiss on his lips. Meanwhile Hanzo’s hand trailed a molten line around McCree’s hip, down into the line between his leg and thigh, up across his soft lower belly. Where he’d been teasing a ticklishly light before, he was firm now, with broad, sure moves across skin. When he finally grasped McCree’s length, he was mostly hard and panting a little against Hanzo’s neck. The knowledge that he knew so much of Jesse, that he had such mastery of the man’s body to reduce him to this so quickly, made Hanzo’s heart soar.
“That was not so bad, was it?” He asked, softly, taunting just a little. Now that it was done, it was allowed to be a bit funny. McCree seemed to think so too, because he laughed and kissed a trail up Hanzo’s neck, stopping to nip once in awhile just to hear the little dip in breathing it caused each time.
“I’d say it was pretty great, partner.” He let his voice drop into the deep rumble that Hanzo liked so much, more bass than sound. The reaction it garnered this close to his ear was visible, the kind of shuddering tensing of muscles that was normally caused by something ticklish. As if eager to get back to the matter at hand, Hanzo coiled his long fingers more firmly around Jesse’s prick and squeezed up on the upstroke. Pulled to attention by invisible strings, his hips jerked in response, legs tensing up in glorious pleasure.
“Good.”
“Wanna touch you…” McCree announced, before curling up and pulling away. The space left where his body had been felt cool and empty, and Hanzo had to restrain his hand from reaching out to pull him back. Good thing he hadn’t, because the taller man was shuffling awkwardly until he could turn completely around. Once he’d managed that quickly, if not gracefully, he clambered up over to sit on Hanzo’s lap. With Jesse seated there, dripping water and staring down at him with those soft brown eyes, suddenly bathtime didn’t seem like such a bad idea.
McCree was the first one to break eye contact, glancing down so he could get a large warm hand around them both. They groaned in unison, Hanzo arching up towards that tight heat, and Jesse watched with rapt attention as his lover melted into the intimacy between them. With his only hand occupied, he had to lean forward over Hanzo to keep his balance, and Hanzo took the opportunity to wrap his lips around one of Jesse’s dark nipples.
It went through his body like a bolt of electricity and he jerked forward. The only thing that kept him upright was Hanzo’s hands on his hips, digging in with the effort it took not to simply rut up against his partner. Heat built between them quickly now, and soon they were both thrusting against the other in Jesse’s hand. Their eyes locked again, McCree bowing down like a weeping willow and Hanzo straining upwards like a vine towards the sun.
Hanzo was the first to come, breaking into pieces right before McCree’s eyes. Nails dug into his hips and he swayed dangerously with his last few desperate thrusts, fueled by Hanzo’s sharp inhale, his eyes sliding shut, his mouth falling open just so. With a growled endearment, McCree came as well, then slumped back on his thighs. They panted together in comfortable silence for a moment, coming down from the endorphin rush. Then McCree started up a low chuckle that developed into a deep, belly aching laugh. The dragon cracked open his eyes and inclined his head questioningly.
“I guess we need ‘nother bath, eh Hanzo?”