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Mercy was sure she hadn’t heard quite right.
“I’m sorry, this bar is what?” She peered down at the half-finished beer on the table in front of her. It was her first, but now she wondered whether it had already gone to her head.
“Famous,” McCree repeated, idly stretching his legs out on top of a free seat. “For givin’ people a place to meet up an’ screw around.”
He reached for one of his cigarettes, huffing when he remembered smoking wasn’t allowed inside the dim, packed bar. “Well, famous ‘round here, anyway.”
Mercy frowned. “And just why did you ask us to meet here, then?”
They had just finished a mission that had required almost all of their combined firepower and since McCree had claimed to know his way around, he’d taken it upon himself to choose a nice place to unwind.
Mercy hadn’t really felt like celebrating after all the blood she had seen that day, but it was a tradition and the bar at the very least seemed clean and quiet.
“It’s good bar.” McCree shrugged and huffed out a laugh. “Great beer and good music. Ain’t no one’s gonna force you to pay attention to what goes down behind the curtain.”
“Isn’t that illegal?”
A prickle on Mercy’s back warned her of someone else’s presence shortly before a smooth, rich voice spoke right behind her. “Is what illegal?”
Zarya leaned down slightly to better see them, comfortable grey hoodie leaving her arms bare as they usually were and Mercy swallowed at the warmth her hulking body emitted. It made her skin burn. It always did.
“Glory Holes in the bathroom,” McCree threw out casually, lazily pointing over his shoulder. “Probably a private room if you were to look for it.”
Zarya chuckled and casually leaned her elbow on Mercy’s shoulder. Mercy stood stiff beneath the weight, glancing up at the tall woman from the corners of her eyes. “And you know this from personal experience, yes?”
McCree’s laugh was good-willed as he stood up and grabbed his pack of cigarettes and his lighter.
“A gentleman never tells. Ladies.” He tipped his hat and left with a last wink in their direction, weaving through the crowd on his way outside for a smoke.
Mercy didn’t much care how McCree got his kicks, but for the sake of his health she hoped he’d been making a joke. Sometimes it was hard to tell with him.
She huffed out a breath and shook her head.
“You do not feel comfortable here?”
Zarya’s question startled her and Mercy turned to look into her face. The other woman’s eyes were as bright and confident as they always were – and just as closed off. For as open and laidback as Zarya seemed, Mercy had always had the suspicion that it was act and reality in equal measures.
She couldn’t blame her. All of them had things they kept to themselves, things they had locked away for one reason or another, and it was respect for each other that kept them from prying into secrets better left hidden.
“I just don’t see the appeal of having sex with a stranger.”
Zarya leaned her hip against the table and shrugged, the muscles of her shoulder flexing at the action. She was staring off into the direction of the toilets. “It is easy and quick. Exciting.”
The contemplative look on her face made Mercy’s stomach flip.
“Wait,” she blurted out, trying not to get distracted by the strong line of her jaw and throat or the way her muscles bulged when she crossed her arms over her chest. “You’re not going to…”
Her words trailed off as a grin spread over Zarya’s face and the other woman clapped her hands once.
“You said it is important to relax after a hard fight, did you not?” Zarya winked and shifted on her feet. Mercy’s eyes instinctively darted down to the heavy bulge pressing against the other woman’s jeans before refocusing on the glint in her eyes. “I will do that.”
Before Mercy could utter one of the myriad of reasons this was not a good idea, Zarya had bent at the waist and laid one arm over the back of Mercy’s chair, lips nearly brushing the shell of her ear and her breath hot against her skin.
“If you need me, you know where to find me.”
And then, as if she was merely going to the bar for another drink, she gave a small wave and disappeared.
Heat suffused Mercy's cheeks and she was sure that her face glowed neon red in the dim light of the bar as she stared after Zarya's tall form.
No one else seemed to have heard them. Tracer had disappeared sometime after the second round, probably off to one of those secret meetings she thought they weren’t aware of, D.Va and Lució were playing around with the ancient juke box in the corner and Pharah was having a quiet conversation with Symmetra. Everyone else was strewn all over the place and too far away to have listened in.
Mercy shook her head, laying a palm against her heated cheeks. It was none of her business what Zarya got up to in her free time - even if it meant meeting strangers in the bathroom of a sticky pub for quick, anonymous sex. Nearly 15 years of life as a doctor had taught Mercy quite a bit about human sexuality and there were far worse things than the desire for an easy quickie.
"I just hope she stays safe," she mumbled under her breath, hastily pulling her thumb away from her mouth where she'd started to nibble at the nail. As the team’s doctor, she knew Zarya was healthy and clean. She had no reason to be anxious.
Even if there were a hundred different ways one's health might suffer in a place like this, especially if there were a stranger’s bodily fluids involved. A stranger who might have an untold number of diseases when it would be so much easier for Zarya to choose someone less risky, someone like-
"Hey, Doc!"
Mercy reared back as Junkrat's grinning face appeared before her. As usual, it pained her to see his horrifyingly unhealthy posture. If he'd only let her, she could take care of that slouch in an instant.
"Yes?" She wrinkled her nose at the heavy smell of burnt hair that wafted from his figure.
Junkrat jerked his chin towards Roadhog's massive frame stuffed uncomfortably into a corner booth.
"My friend here wants to know where the russian lady went. She still owes him a bout of arm wrestling."
Roadhog grunted in agreement. Despite his violent nature and imposing build, Mercy had found that he was surprisingly good company - he was one of her few patients who let her treat him without protest.
"I don't know," she lied calmly. "Maybe she went to get some air?"
Or maybe she had already found someone to scratch her itch.
Roadhog grunted again, obviously displeased at the thought of leaving his seat to go look for her.
"Aw, what a shame." Junkrat casually flicked a piece of ash from his shoulder. How he managed to be constantly covered in soot she couldn't fathom. "Might be she's gone and taken a piss. Can't hurt to look there first, aye, mate?"
Mercy's head jerked upwards. Surely the last thing Zarya wanted was to have Junkrat and Roadhog lurk in the bathroom while she was…busy.
"No, she definitely went outside," she said with a quick shake of her head.
"You sure, Doc? Thought I saw her go into the direction of the loo…"
She forced herself to stand slowly, sweat starting to build on her brow. "You know what, don't bother. I will look for her."
"You'd do that for us? You're too kind, Doc, truly."
Junkrat giggled and slapped her on the back and she put on a smile, turning to go on wooden legs.
"Don't know how to thank you!" he yelled after her as she pushed through the throngs of people towards the safety of the back of the pub.
The hallway leading towards the bathroom was surprisingly empty - perhaps this bar did indeed have a reputation for catering to a very specific clientele. The kind who met in toilet stalls and obviously did not care about the sheer endless amount of health risks such an encounter held.
Mercy leaned against the wall next to a door marked as 'toilet' - gender-specific bathrooms had long since lost their use - and sighed.
What was Zarya thinking? Of course there was nary a disease modern medicine couldn't cure, but why would she resort to sex with an absolute stranger, one she had no emotional ties to?
Was that the point? The thrill of meaningless, animalistic sex? Of not knowing who it was that brought her pleasure, who got to close their lips around her-
"Reiß dich zusammen," Mercy muttered under her breath, trying to dispel the images of some nameless, faceless person servicing Zarya.
She'd long since moved past the point in her life in which denial was an option and Mercy could admit - at least to herself - that the thought bothered her.
Zarya was tall and strong, attractive to many people and extraordinarily charming when she wanted to be. There was absolutely no reason why she wouldn't be able to find someone amongst her acquaintances who would be willing to exchange sexual favours.
Even if she just wanted to avoid emotional entanglement, there was bound to be a better solution than resorting to the likes of this.
Mercy hesitated, throwing another glance at the door. If someone else had already joined Zarya in the stall, barging in would be more than a little awkward, although Mercy might be able to stop her before she did anything she (and, as her doctor, Mercy as well) might regret.
In the end, her pride won out. Regardless of her personal feelings on the matter, it was her duty as the group's doctor to make sure they stayed in peak physical condition. And informing them of potential threats to their welfare was one of them.
Ascertaining that no one was looking her way, she pressed one ear against the cool wood of the door and listened.
Nothing.
No steps, no rattling of stall walls, no questionable noises of any kind. Either Zarya was still alone or the door was thick enough to trap any and all sounds. Both would make sense in the context of this situation.
With a deep breath, her fingers finally closed around the cool metal handle and pushed, looking both ways to make sure no one – particularly not one of her teammates - would see her enter.
Silence rang in the aftermath of the door falling shut behind her.
The bathroom was equipped as one might expect it to be - two sinks, a trash can, a hand drier and two stalls standing side by side. Nothing about it seemed odd, except perhaps the unusually large size of each stall.
One of which showed a few telltale strands of bright pink hair. Mercy knew only one person with that kind of hair colour who was tall enough to reach past the stall walls.
She opened her mouth to call out, but found her breath stuck in her throat. Perhaps she shouldn't. Perhaps it was none of her business.
With shaking knees, she approached the sink and quickly rinsed her trembling hands - if only to have something to do.
Zarya cleared her throat – questioning, but also impatient.
Mercy considered turning around, she really did. To ignore the sound and pretend she'd only come here to wash her hands. There was a split-second of hesitation before she gingerly made her way into the other stall and locked the door, hoping to get herself more time.
She could always act like she'd simply had to use the toilet.
The hole in the stall partition caught her eye immediately. The edges were covered with black tape, no doubt to prevent possible injuries, and if there had been any doubt as to the nature of it, the crude scribbles all around it would have eradicated it.
To Mercy's surprise, the pen marks were the only sign of uncleanliness. The floor had recently been cleaned, the walls bore no questionable spots and the air didn't smell unpleasant.
She supposed the owners took care to keep everything as hygienic as possible.
Absentmindedly, she ran one finger along the edge of the hole. Clean and smooth, at the very least. No danger of vicious lacerations or splinters in sensitive regions.
The sound of clothes rustling on the other side made her flinch violently and her finger snap back. Mercy doubted she'd be identified by a single finger (clean, short nails were a dime a dozen), but her heartbeat speeded up anyway.
She waited with bated breath, eyes flicking up like Zarya might appear and greet her with a grin at any moment.
But all she heard was the sound of a belt clinking open.
Mercy knew what the sound meant, knew she'd most likely brought it on herself by fumbling around with things she shouldn't, but it still came as a shock when she looked down to see-
She clasped both hands over her face.
This was getting out of hand and she really ought to speak up and let Zarya know it was her. She should. She had to.
With a hard swallow, Mercy peeked through the gaps between her fingers.
In her years as a doctor, she'd seen her fair share of genitals, male and female alike. It had never bothered her, never embarrassed her, never seemed like something dirty or forbidden.
Until now.
Zarya's cock stood hard and proud, just so managing to fit through the hole, and Mercy couldn't look away if she tried. She took in the gentle curve of it, the veins running along the sides and the thickness of the base.
The simmering excitement in her belly warped into an all-too familiar pulsing, even as her vision blurred and the white-hot burn in her cheeks became more pronounced.
As a doctor, nakedness didn't affect her. As a person, she realized that Zarya was waiting for her - for the stranger she assumed her to be - to do something, to touch her, to get her off, and it caused her to stand frozen and wide-eyed.
Distantly, she wondered what exactly someone in her position was supposed to do here. Did Zarya expect the brush of a hand or the stroke of lips and tongue?
Did she expect…more?
Mercy unconsciously squeezed her thighs together.
"Changed your mind?"
The roughly accented words from the other side of the stall caused her whole body to jerk in surprise, her gaze snapping away from its target as though she'd been found out.
She almost answered on pure instinct before she caught herself and shut her mouth with a click.
Would Zarya leave, she wondered, if she got no response? Or perhaps she'd simply wait for someone less hesitant to take over.
Neither option sat quite well with her.
Very aware of her own thundering heartbeat and the warmth spreading in her belly, Mercy stretched her fingers towards the taut skin of Zarya's cock.
She'd thought she might pull back at the last moment, that she'd realize the sheer absurdity of what she was doing, but that second of doubt never came.
The tips of her fingers made contact with swollen flesh and all Mercy could think was…
Oh.
The shaft was warm, burning-hot even, and it jumped at the contact of her own cool palm. For a moment, she had the absurd thought that she should have warmed her hands first, like she did when she had to deal with some of her fussier patients.
Zarya didn't seem to mind. The partition creaked dangerously as she tried to push closer to her hand.
If there was a point of no return in all this, Mercy knew she was about to cross it. She knew, yet she watched with something akin to fascination as her fingers wrapped tightly around the other woman's shaft and squeezed.
They didn't quite meet.
The soft groan of appreciation from the other side made her shift uncomfortably, too aware of the wetness building between her thighs and too deaf from the blood rushing in her ears to listen to the warnings in her head.
It took a few long seconds for her to come to a decision, as inevitable as that decision was, yet Zarya was still and patient in her hand while she contemplated the firm heat in her palm. It pulsed periodically and it felt alive and smooth and, somehow, as powerful as the woman who carried it.
Mercy’s fingers trembled as she drew them along the cock from base to head in a soft motion, marveling at the jerk and the quiet gasp the movement evoked. She’d had her fair share of sex partners in her life during the few times her line of work had allowed her to pursue distractions - soft, pleasant encounters that had reminded her of the warmth of another human being when she desperately needed to not feel alone - but this was new to her.
The blood pumping through the veins underneath her fingers was raw, the rustling of clothes and the harsh exhale of breath on the other side of the wall strangely personal, and Mercy found herself ghosting the pad of a finger over the shiny red tip of Zarya’s member just to feel her shiver.
“All of it,” Zarya spoke, and Mercy was startled out of her gentle exploration. It would be easy to forget that this wasn’t just one of the fantasies she so rarely indulged in, that the person on the other side was flesh and blood and desire.
Carefully, she moved back to the base and formed a tight fist. She wasn’t used to lovers who were quite as well-endowed and she didn’t want to hurt her, though she suspected she needn’t have worried when she gave an experimental pump and Zarya breathed a satisfied huff of pleasure.
Mercy bit her lip and did it again. Firmer, faster, until she had found a rhythm that seemed to please the other woman. Jerk up, twist the wrist, brush over the head, slide back down and squeeze.
Zarya’s hips trembled at the attention and Mercy felt every throb of her cock between her own legs as though there was an invisible line connecting them.
She bit her lip harder to stop the moan that built at the back of her throat from tumbling out when, suddenly, the woman’s hips bucked into her palm and the hopefully sturdy plastic wall between them shook beneath the force of the motion.
“Faster.” Zarya’s voice was a low, rumbling growl that sent a stab of arousal straight to Mercy’s groin. She sucked in a shaky breath and leaned her forehead against the wall, watching her own hand as she followed the order and jerked faster.
Her new stance brought her closer, close enough for the other woman’s cock to almost brush against her stomach, and she couldn’t help but acknowledge how it brought out the difference in size between them.
She’d always been aware of it, even more so after one instance in the middle of a heated battle that had Zarya grab her by the hips and lift her out of danger as though she weighted no more than a scrap of paper. She’d peered up at Zarya’s back, large and sturdy and somehow safer than Reinhardt’s shield had ever been, and Mercy had often asked herself if that had been the moment she’d first felt that stab of attraction that lanced through her stomach whenever she caught sight of her broad shoulders and easy grin.
Now it caused apprehension and a needy tightening of her inner muscles.
A shiny drop of wetness had gathered in the small slit atop the tip of Zarya’s length and Mercy felt the inexplicable urge to taste it. She wondered if it was expected. If Zarya would walk out of this room disappointed and unsatisfied if all she got was a handjob from someone who hadn’t touched another person for anything but medical reasons in years.
It was her own arousal, the increasingly demanding pulsing between her thighs, that ultimately propelled her into action. Like a stone, she dropped to her knees and brought her lips close to the temptation before her, nerves making her heart beat faster.
When she’d last felt nervousness that wasn’t coupled with fear for herself and others, she couldn’t remember.
“Are you alright?”
Mercy hadn’t realized it, but she’d stopped the movement of her hand in favour of worrying her bottom lip between her teeth as she simply stared. She couldn’t answer, not without giving herself away, and so she simply parted her lips.
Her tongue darted out to catch the drop of pre-cum that had spilled over to run down the thick hardness. Zarya sucked in a breath and held it.
It was slightly salty, both tangy and sweet, and Mercy closed her lips around the soft head to suck the remaining wetness onto her tongue.
The startled, throaty groan it garnered made her head swim.
When Zarya slipped out of her and pulled back an inch, Mercy followed on instinct as she tried to not lose contact. It distantly occurred to her that a retreat might mean rejection and she hesitated, mouth just barely brushing against heated skin.
With another dangerous creak of the wall, Zarya’s hips thrust forward. She wedged herself past Mercy’s lips with a strained grunt, far deeper than before, and Mercy’s eyes widened at the thick cock pushing in as far as possible before the barrier between them halted any further movement.
Zarya didn’t know it was her, she reminded herself. She had no reason to be gentle or to care about anything beyond getting off.
She was using her, and somehow that thought only stoked the flames in her belly.
Mercy closed her eyes and took more of the hot length pulsing against her tongue, the pounding of her heart against the base of her throat as rapid as the throbbing between her soaked thighs. She hit her limit about three-fourths of the way down and pushed further still, wanting, needing Zarya to come as hard as she possibly could.
She wanted Zarya to remember this, even if she wouldn’t remember her.
The stall partition all but curved underneath the other woman’s weight as she cursed quiet, rough words Mercy couldn’t understand and pulled back another couple of inches.
This time, Mercy was prepared.
She opened her mouth wider and tried to relax her throat before Zarya rocked her hips forward and buried her cock in her throat in a short, wet stroke. Zarya growled and Mercy felt it all the way down to her clit, like lightening.
Thankfully, her moan was muffled and went unheard.
She squeezed her legs together in the hope of providing herself even a small amount of relief from the arousal turning her skin hot and slick and began moving her head. Slowly and carefully at first, pausing whenever she reached her limit to listen to the soft moans the tightening of her throat around Zarya’s cock caused – and, finally, faster and harder, lips forming a tight seal around the hard flesh.
Wet sounds filled the air around them as saliva and pre-cum mixed to make the task easier. There was pleasure in it, in allowing herself to think of nothing but the heat between them as she took the hard length into her mouth and throat over and over again.
Zarya’s movements were miniscule, strained in their control, and when Mercy looked up, she saw strong fingers gripping onto the stall wall almost hard enough to make her fear it might crack.
Mercy swallowed around her, clit pulsing at the barely restrained strength separated from her by nothing but a flimsy barrier of plastic and wood, and squeezed her eyes shut when Zarya spoke up again.
“Turn around, котенка,” she murmured huskily, her voice deep and brushing over Mercy’s skin like a caress. “Let me fuck you.”
Mercy was helpless to stop her hips from jerking at the suggestion. The flames in her belly unfurled to consume her, to consume what was left of her usually collected thoughts and leave her with nothing but the image of Zarya pounding into her until she was satisfied. Her head was empty of concerns as she allowed the other woman’s cock to slip out of her mouth and almost fell in her haste to claw at the button and zipper of her pants.
Her trembling fingers had trouble getting a proper hold on the fabric and she wanted to scream. She was aching for this. Her thighs were soaked and her underwear was ruined and her nipples were so hard even the brush of her bra over the pebbled skin was almost too much.
Mercy wanted to sigh in relief when the clasp finally gave way and she managed to shimmy out of her pants. She didn’t care to look where she threw her underwear.
Before she could do as Zarya had suggested and turn around, she realized the other woman had pulled back and instead of her cock, a condom held delicately between two pink-nailed fingers now rested in the opening between them.
Of course she’d have a condom. A part of Mercy felt stupid for ever thinking Zarya wouldn’t keep herself safe and rushing after her like a fool, but a bigger part of her didn’t care to waste time hesitating.
She snatched up the rectangular plastic wrap and ripped it apart with her teeth, the pieces fluttering to the tiled floor as she pinched the tip with shaking hands. Zarya’s cock jumped as she quickly covered it with the thin latex, almost dismayed to not have the opportunity to clean off the pre-cum freely flowing from the tip.
That done, Mercy expected Zarya to stay still so she could sink down onto her, but the other woman retreated again.
“Turn around and come closer.” For the first time, Mercy could hear breathlessness in her voice. “Let me see you.”
Mercy was too aroused to be embarrassed at the request or at her own eagerness to meet it. If anything, she felt a thrill shooting down her spine as she turned around and bent at the waist with a deep breath.
“Closer.”
She inched back, desperately aware of the eyes following her movement. Goosebumps erupted on the skin of her buttocks as she brushed against the cool plastic and she came to a stop with her heart hammering inside her chest.
“Spread yourself.”
Her clit throbbed as she reached back. She knew Zarya would be able to see everything through the round opening, every inch of her, yet she used her hands and fingers to open herself up wider to her eyes.
A quiet moan from the other side made a drop of wetness run down her thighs.
Mercy felt the brush of warm breath over the sensitive flesh between her thighs a mere moment before the firm wetness of Zarya’s tongue pressed flat against her.
Only a brutal bite to the inside of her cheek kept her from crying out as the other woman traced a path along her entire slit, softly lavishing the folds with attention. When soft lips closed around her clit, Mercy was ready to beg. When Zarya started circling it slowly with the tip of her tongue, Mercy was ready to climb over the partition and ride her, consequences me damned.
She wanted to beg her to just do it, to fuck her, but she couldn’t let her voice be heard. For the sake of her own sanity, Zarya had to keep believing it was a stranger offering herself up to her as nothing but a warm hole to find relief in.
“You taste good,” Zarya murmured against her hot flesh. “You are ready.”
Mercy wanted to whine and sigh in relief at the same time when the soft mouth moved away, only to be replaced by the tip of the other woman’s cock coming to rest against her entrance. Even beneath the latex, it was burning hot and the contact sent a stab of arousal to her groin.
She couldn’t encourage her verbally and simply pressed herself closer to the wall behind her, silently begging her to fill her, to use her.
With a low growl, Zarya did.
Mercy’s mouth opened to release the breath she hadn’t been able to take in the first place as the cock slammed home, her body rocking forward with the force of the thrust. The sudden stretch of her inner walls burned a path of fire along her spine, an explosion of colours behind her eyelids rendering her unable to suck in the air she needed.
Zarya moaned, rough and raspy and pleased, once she was fully sheathed within her. Mercy couldn't see it, but she was sure her hands were wrapped around the edge of the partition again. Large hands that would be able to encircle her waist almost entirely, to hold her down and immobile if Zarya so chose.
Mercy moved back, the rock-hard member sliding even deeper and pressing tightly against the ring of her cervix. It gave a harsh throb and Mercy wanted to tell the other woman not to hold back, to fuck her as hard and fast as she wanted.
She didn’t have to. Zarya only gave her a few moments to get used to her girth before she drew back and gave another thrust, just as harsh as the first one. She did it again and again, until the noise of skin slapping against skin and plastic echoed off the tiled walls and Mercy felt like she might pass out if she couldn’t get some air into her lungs soon.
Zarya’s cock stretched her on every pass, forced itself past her tightening muscles and pressed into the sensitive nerve endings of her front wall, and Mercy knew all the technical terms and the theory of it, but she couldn’t for the life of her remember them. All she knew was that every thrust threatened to make her collapse at the pleasure pulsing in her gut, that she had no control over her own hips struggling to meet them. All she knew was that it felt good.
Zarya’s strokes quickened, shorter now but no less powerful, and Mercy slammed a hand over her mouth to cut off the high-pitched sound tumbling from between her lips. The other woman never paused in her relentless assault, never faltered as she pounded into her, and Mercy grabbed onto the toilet seat in front of her for balance as the throbbing deep inside her turned into a near-constant pleasure high.
A grunt every time she bottomed out was the only sign of exertion Zarya showed. It was overshadowed by the static playing in Mercy’s head, like a song that drowned out everything but the sensation of Zarya’s cock pushing into her as deep as it could possibly go.
She became aware of another noise in the small room – the rhythmic creaking of the partition trying desperately to withstand the force of Zarya’s body, nearly caving in at the strength of her motions. The realization left Mercy reeling and she could only keep her hand firmly over her mouth to muffle her own whimpers as her eyes rolled into the back of her head.
Zarya didn’t care for who she thought was on the other side of the wall, she didn’t care for her as anything but a way to blow her load, yet Mercy couldn’t find it in her to mind. Not as long as Zarya kept pumping into her like she wanted nothing more than to see her shatter.
The pace of the other woman’s thrusts changed, becoming more urgent, more certain, more. And Mercy wanted it, wanted it desperately, but something kept nagging at the back of her mind, something that made her feel like this wasn’t enough.
She wanted everything.
Without quite realizing what she was about to do, she forced herself to jerk away. Zarya’s pulsing length slipped out of her and landed hotly between her thighs, a confused, pained moan from the other side just barely registering in the thick haze of lust. Mercy kept her eyes closed tightly as she hastily reached down and rolled the condom off.
Before it could hit the ground, she was already guiding Zarya back into her. She didn’t think to ask, but the other woman’s cock was hot and wet and bare as it slid back into her and Mercy found a deep craving inside of her sated at feeling them connected skin to skin.
There was a split-second of hesitation, of surprise, before Zarya groaned out a helpless curse and continued right where she’d left off. If Mercy had thought her movements were powerful before, she couldn’t have been prepared for the sheer strength the other woman displayed now.
Urgency edged into desperation as she slammed into her, barely bottoming out before she’d already started on the next bone-rattling thrust. Mercy was helpless to do anything but hold onto the toilet lid and feel the arousal brewing in her belly climb towards its peak, mouth open and saliva dripping down her chin.
Zarya was relentless and Mercy couldn’t hope to hold on. The constant pressure, the painfully delicious stretch, the short strokes that squeezed wispy breaths out of her lungs – it was too much.
Tears gathered at the corners of her eyes.
Her inner muscles quivered just as she heard a rapid knocking from the other side, but she neither knew nor cared what it meant as several strong throbs from the cock lodged inside her propelled her towards orgasm. She rocked back, impaling herself as deep onto Zarya as she could, when the meaning of the other woman’s gesture, of her warning, suddenly became clear.
The cock within her swelled and jerked as Zarya groaned out her release, thick spurts of cum coating Mercy’s walls and filling her to the brim. As if waiting for that exact moment, Mercy’s inner muscles clenched and the brunt of her own orgasm washed over her, the sensations of her own toe-curling pleasure combining with the feeling of Zarya coming inside her and causing her to bite her own palm to keep from screaming.
All nerve endings in her body fired at once and she vainly attempted to press closer and encourage the other woman to give her more, to unload every last drop of sperm as deep inside her as she could. It was already overflowing, dripping from the connection between their bodies to soil her thighs and the floor between her legs. She imagined the look of rapture on Zarya’s face, the broad shoulders and tensed muscles, and felt her inner walls tightening around her to keep her seated deep until it was over.
It might have been seconds or it might have been hours until Zarya had stopped twitching and the waves of pleasure started to recede. When she pulled out with a wet noise, Mercy found her shaking knees giving way – if it hadn’t been for the tiled wall directly opposite her, she knew she would have sunk to the floor.
Breathing calmed, clothes rustled and the clink of a belt filled the sudden silence as Mercy leaned her burning face against the cool tiles, vividly aware of the cum running down her legs. The sensation filled her with excitement and guilt in equal measures.
“Thank you,” Zarya said from the other side. She sounded utterly satisfied, her tone almost lazy. “You did well.”
There were no further comments or questions. Mercy listened to her opening the door, running water and washing her hands and then, as if nothing had happened, Zarya left the room, the sound of her heavy footsteps soon fading.
Alone, Mercy swallowed heavily and ran a hand over her face. Now that the desperate arousal had cooled, she realized what she’d done. Going back to the others and acting as if nothing had happened, as if she hadn’t fucked Zarya in the bathroom, as if she hadn’t let her believe she was screwing a stranger, felt like a task she wasn’t prepared for.
Gingerly, she cupped the flesh between her thighs and shivered. She would be sore in the morning, but her limbs felt heavy and numb in a way she wished she could allow herself to get used to.
With a heavy sigh, Mercy began the much-needed task of making herself presentable again.
When she felt ready to rejoin her team, the first thing she heard once she stumbled back towards the tables was Zarya laughing. It wasn’t a loud laugh, but Mercy was keenly aware of her voice anyway and found herself watching as the other woman slammed Roadhog’s hand into the table.
She looked like she always did. Mercy was a mess, cheeks still red and her hair most likely sticking up in every direction – everything about her screamed well-fucked – yet Zarya might as well have been taking a relaxing walk outside for how casually unaffected she seemed.
Mercy swallowed.
She pasted on a tired smile as Junkrat waved her over and reminded herself that none of them knew. What happened in that bathroom would stay between her and her conscience forever.
“Heya, Doc.” He leaned back with a grin, poking around his teeth with the nail of his little finger. “Turns out Zaryanova found us all by herself. Come on, mate, have a seat and watch her destroy ol’ pig face here.”
Roadhog might have glared at him, but it was impossible to tell beneath his mask. Mercy gingerly sank into the free chair next to Zarya, the hard wood uncomfortable now that the delicate flesh between her thighs felt decidedly raw and sensitive. She’d cleaned herself, but she almost thought she could still feel the cum dripping out of her.
Zarya gave her a barely-there nod of acknowledgment before concentrating on her arm-wrestling match.
It took five rounds and four losses for Roadhog to admit that he wouldn’t walk out this bar as a winner and even longer for Junkrat to stop goading him into trying again, but eventually Zarya leaned back into her chair with a smirk.
“That was not even a challenge,” she boasted, throwing out her arm to lay it around the back of Mercy’s chair and pull her closer. “Even our good doctor here could beat you.”
Mercy took a good look at Roadhog’s massive upper arms and raised both hands in defense, the warmth of the other woman’s arm searing into her upper back. “I don’t think so.”
Roadhog grunted in agreement, but Zarya smiled down at her. “Do not sell yourself short, котенка. With personal training, you could become very strong.”
The nickname rung a bell, raised a frantic alarm in the back of Mercy’s head, but she couldn’t quite place it.
“Really, I don’t-“
“Say yes.” Zarya’s smile never wavered as she pulled her chair close enough to make their thighs touch and leaned down. Just as her arm slipped from the chair to wrap around her shoulders, she pressed a lingering kiss to the sensitive spot beneath Mercy’s ear and breathed a low whisper against her skin that went unheard by the people around them.
“Next time, I would like to see your face when you come.”
Mercy forgot to breathe. When she had stopped coughing and regained her senses, Zarya was already deep in a conversation about strength training with a tipsy Reinhardt, though the weight of her arm never strayed from her shoulders.
Roadhog caught her eyes and then, very slowly, gave her a thumbs-up.