if youre still doing those, mcgenji - bite
oh god bless your prompt, thank you so much.Â
[M, nsfw, post-recall, established/developing relationship]
Sometimes, McCree wishes Genji wasn't so observant when McCree himself isn’t up to the task of returning the favor. Getting fucked into the mattress tends to leave him a little stupid in the head anyways, but there’s still a jolt of guilty embarrassment after McCree comes down from riding high, arms dropping as his hold on Genji unwinds. He gets to hear Genji gasp, gets to feel Genji shudder inside of him, and that’s all fine and good until Genji recovers—quick, as usual, lucky bastard—and touches the wet mark at the base of his neck, expression thoughtful.
McCree, still being too damned pleased, pushes up on his elbows to press his lips to the spot, shifting lower when he feels Genji’s exosuit, and then Genji really cottons on to the way McCree likes to stick his face to the left side of his chest, nuzzling bare skin with all its old scars and new bruises.
Genji sits up, looking down at McCree with one raised eyebrow, but McCree’s gaze takes a second too long to peel away from the jagged circle of teeth imprints over Genji’s exposed chest. There’s a second or two of silence before Genji hops up from the bed, leaving McCree a little unsure of the mood, but once he discovers Genji is only looking at himself in the mirror, he flops back down.
There’s never really anything bad about biting down on a mouthful of synthetic skin and muscle. It certainly doesn’t hurt Genji, which McCree never aims to do, but there’s something a little more satisfying about sinking his teeth down into real flesh, making Genji’s skin turn red, and having the reminder that he’s been there, even hours later.
He can’t get the same results biting or sucking on the softer, prosthetic parts of Genji’s body. McCree doesn’t mean to try. The logical part of him knows it’ll never work, not with the cybernetics, but Genji gets to leave all sorts of things on him—bruises on his hips, hickies below his collar, handprints over his ass—all kinds of damning evidence under his clothes, and McCree starts to feel a little jealous that he can’t have the same physical, lingering effect.
Genji throws a warm washcloth his way. McCree catches it, easy, and wipes himself down. The cloth rubs over a bruise on his inner thigh, the small roll of pain already a nice reminder. He glances at Genji’s thighs, dark fiber looking untouched and clean. It’s a stark contrast between the two of them, though they’ve both had their hands and mouths on each other with equal amounts of enthusiasm.
It truly is a petty thing to get worked up over, which is why McCree is embarrassed that Genji has caught him.
“You want to mark me,” Genji says, one knee on the bed, bright eyes looking down at McCree. His fingers trace over the bitemark at his shoulder, a smattering of red splotches across the left side of his chest.
And McCree still stares, unable to help himself.
“Well, now when you go on and put it like that, it sounds like I’m crazy and possessive,” he says, rueful.
“But you are not,” Genji says, tossing his own washcloth aside. He eases down next to McCree, fussing with the blankets to get comfortable. “I don’t mind being yours.”
In between moving aside and shuffling the sheets, McCree has to look away to process Genji’s casual tone. It sounds like an offhand remark to his ears, so nonchalantly delivered—but Genji isn’t quite meeting his eyes either. His hand trails over McCree’s own marks and bruises, and McCree feels himself turn red, heat prickling over his face.
“Could very well be the other way around,” he says, looking back to see a spark in Genji’s eyes.
“All within reason,” Genji teases, rolling over to perch on McCree’s hips, and surveys every little imprint he’s left on McCree.
In return, McCree gets to stare all he likes at Genji, even if he’s less visibly marked. When Genji leans back with a smirk, McCree knows he means for it to be a show, or a lesson.
It turns out to be neither, because as soon as McCree tries to scoff, Genji puts a thumb to the corner of McCree’s mouth, pressing down and holding his jaw in place.
“You leave an impression in other ways more tangible and meaningful than a couple of love bites,” Genji says with a fond look. It only lasts a moment before he smiles, crooked, and his thumb slides beneath McCree’s upper lip to press against his teeth. “But, as I’ve said, I don’t mind you making sure.”
McCree allows Genji to withdraw his hand, but it’s all the patience he has before he rushes forward, teeth bared, and Genji goes down to match him, mark for mark.
