do you take requests? ignore this if you don't. could you do headcanons on how it is to make out with mccree and hanzo?(seperately) thank you!
You're finally alone with Hanzo. Before, it had seemed impossible. For such a private man, he has such a gaggle of people wanting to converse, or kick his butt. Sometimes both.
But you're alone now. And he seems nervous, the faintest tinge of blush on his cheeks, the twitch of his adam's apple when he swallows, leaning in to brush a kiss to your lips. (Because let us be honest, that's all that has been on his mind for the last few hours.)
Your lips meet, and his breath catches in his throat. He tastes like green tea and salt.Composure, well. That's gone now. You taste so good, and you feel so good against him. His hands are on you, touching every bit of skin you offer, pushing your shirt up to rest his palms against your tum and the small of your back.
Rough, needy kisses are paused with tiny, feather light ones, fingertips brushing against your cheekbones, staring intently into your eyes. He needs to know you need this as much as he does, he needs the connection, and when's the last time he's let himself feel anything?
When he pulls away, he's blushing, dusky pink and far, far more shy than a former Yakuza boss has any right to being.
"Are you alright? Is this..is this alright?" The hesistance in his voice is killing him, and probably you, if you have a soul.
He kisses you once more, resisting the urge to press his body to yours, to further that skin to skin, mustering the self control he'd made his life. The kiss is soft, tender, and bittersweet, fingers brushing under your chin as he excuses himself.
He has some thinking to do.
McCree holds no qualms with physical affection, so you could be in the middle of a sentence, and suddenly you are in his lap, on a beaten and battered couch.
A large, warm hand would rest on your waist, keeping you close and tugging you tight, the glove over his prosthetic hand cupping your cheek, making you turn and look, pulling you to him.
His lips are wind chapped and soft all at the same time, as you flutter against him. Jesse doesn't often get this sort of calm time, let alone calm alone time with you. It's always rush-rush-rush-wait, wait-wait-wait-run, the life of a man on the run of the law. So this time is damned important to him.
And it might piss you off, to be honest. Because each kiss is slow, and wet and.. to a small extent, it's for the aesthetic of it. The lone cowboy and his slow, deep, toe curling kisses.
He smells of gunsmoke and leather, sweat and rain, and dust. It's... oddly enthralling, satisfying. Safe.
We hope you like it! Sorry it took so long!
Mod Pix did Hanzo’s, and Mod Spooks did McCree.