Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Staring at the bed and its turned down covers, the candles on the night stand, the roses--Hanzo glanced at Jesse. “This isn’t necessary,” he said.

“I think it is,” Jesse replied, kissing Hanzo’s temple. “Otherwise I feel like a leech and that ain’t nice.” Jesse sat on the edge of the bed, taking a bottle of massage oil in hand and rolling it between his palms. “You let me know when you’re ready.”

Taking in Jesse’s earnest expression, Hanzo sighed through his nose and stripped down to his briefs. None of this should have been a surprise. Jesse had dutifully filled out all his preferences on his profile, including his propensity to spoil his donors. The portion that had intrigued Hanzo most was feeding area preferences.

Jesse had checked “ALL”.

Hanzo knelt on the mattress. “Well?”

Tossing the bottle of oil from hand to hand, Jesse hmmed, “Lay on your stomach if that’s comfortable. Can I take down your hair?”

Stretching out on his belly, Hanzo took the tie from his hair and looped it around his wrist for safe keeping, then pillowed his head on his arms. He closed his eyes when he felt Jesse’s hands comb through his hair, then thread through it, fingertips massaging his scalp, behind his ears, down his neck. Hanzo flashed on the possibility of Jesse wrenching an arm behind Hanzo’s back and fisting a hand in his hair to yank his head to the side, the hot sting of teeth immediate in his neck. That was the usual outcome of these sorts of hookups, one that Hanzo sought, but Jesse’s hands were working steadily down his shoulders to his back instead, showing no sign of roughness. By the time Jesse had reached his calves, Hanzo was drifting into a doze. He wasn’t proud of the needy sound he made when Jesse ran his thumbs down the arches of his feet.

With a throaty chuckle, Jesse ushered him over onto his back.Those calloused hands with their strong thumbs dragged and pushed down Hanzo’s jaw, over his cheekbones, then traced the cords of his neck to his collarbones. They palmed and cupped his pecs until he shivered, moved down his sides, over his stomach, then over his thighs to his knees.

Jesse’s touch left him and there was the rustle of clothing being parted with. Hands moved Hanzo’s thighs wider and Jesse’s weight settled between them, shirtless and warm. He dropped kisses from Hanzo’s lips to his chin, throat, collarbones. Then his mouth came down on Hanzo’s nipple, suckling, laving at it with his tongue while his thumb flicked and circled around the other.

Hanzo sucked in a breath when teeth bit into the meat of his chest, obscene tongue still worrying his nipple while Jesse took slow pulls of his blood. Languor slipped over Hanzo like a warm blanket. It made him feel as though he floated just above his own skin. Languor was the mercy that came after a vampire had him pinned down and was sucking roughly at his neck, his wrist--a chemical euphoria that calmed prey to lessen injury and prolong feeding. Instead this pleasant haze cradled him like bath water, the initial bite a distant pinch instead of the raw pain he was used to.

Jesse moved down his chest again, a flowering of blood left around his nipple. He broke the skin on Hanzo’s hip but licked gently instead of sucking, as if enjoying the difference in flesh against his tongue. Eyes closed, Jesse’s lashes were thick against his cheeks, hard features softened by his blissful expression. Handsome, Hanzo decided. Another welcome difference.

Skirting his privates, Jesse ran his rough cheek against the inside of Hanzo’s thigh, placed a kiss there. Hanzo saw the faint glisten of his fangs as Jesse opened his mouth wider and bit down. Hanzo dropped back into himself at an instant, arching up off the bed, hands gripping at Jesse’s soft hair. He felt it not in his leg, but in the knot of nerves inside of him usually reserved for fingertips or toys.

Jesse pulled his mouth away, hands going to Hanzo’s in his hair, expression concerned even as he licked stray blood from his lips. “Whoa there, whoa. Everything okay?” he asked.

Hanzo huffed out a breath, heart still beating in his ears. “Yes,” he rasped.

“Is that a bad spot for you? Anybody feed from you there before?”

“They have, yes--and, no, not bad. Just--unexpected.”

Jesse’s brow furrowed. “Was I goin’ too fast?” He was petting the rough pads of his fingers over Hanzo’s knuckles.

Hanzo shook his head. “That was not it, no. I--I felt it--” Hanzo felt a flush creep down his neck. He licked his lips, let the fall of his hair obscure his face. “I felt it... in me.”

Eyebrows almost to his hairline, Jesse stared at him. Then Jesse held his hands up, “Swear I ain’t doin’ any weird vampire sex voodoo on ya.”

“You are not,” Hanzo agreed. “I would’ve felt it if you were.”

Hanzo watched Jesse let out a sigh of relief. Languor was one thing, a pleasant side-effect of feeding, but trances were explicitly against Bleedr’s policies and any complaint issued was heavily investigated, often leading to vampires accruing criminal charges or at the very least being blacklisted.

Blacklisting meant a life of mugging and illegal feeding, or purchasing blood bags from a donation center. Not the most dignified of existences.

“So,” Jesse began, leaning up on his elbows, expression resigned, “Do you wanna stop or--”

“No,” Hanzo rushed. This had not been the first time a hook-up had turned sexual. Just...never this quickly and shamelessly on Hanzo’s part. Usually it was the vampire feeling emboldened by the fresh rush of blood. He shifted his hips, self-conscious of his partial erection, but his attention remained on Jesse and his earnest face, a vampire eager to please his donor. “Continue, but slowly.”

Jesse readjusted himself and dipped his head down again, breaths puffing against the skin of Hanzo’s inner thigh. He kissed the spot, licked it, then slid his fangs into the soft flesh. Hanzo held himself from bucking off the mattress this time, but he stole a hand down his oiled stomach and between his legs, cupping himself through his briefs. It was there again, an insistent pressure against his prostate punctuated by the throb of his heartbeat.

After long minutes, Jesse placed a sucking kiss over the bite. “Mind if I join?” he asked, hand petting the juncture of Hanzo’s thigh and hip.

Hanzo breathed out, “You may.”

Nudging Hanzo’s hand away, Jesse pulled Hanzo’s briefs down his thighs and took Hanzo’s cock in his fist, stroking him slowly with the tight ring of his fingers. “Ain’t nobody told me they felt it inside ‘em before. You must be wired special or something.”

“Did that sound more flattering inside your head?” Hanzo asked. He was working his hips up into Jesse’s grip, appreciating the drag of calluses against his dick.

Jesse crawled over him and pinned Hanzo’s wrists to the mattress. “Anybody ever tell you how mean you are?” Jesse retorted. He ground his hips against Hanzo, all rough denim, the cold metal of his belt buckle, and unforgiving leather. Hissing, Hanzo allowed it, enjoying Jesse’s weight holding him down, the sinuous movements of his hips, the soft insistence of his lips finding Hanzo’s mouth and edging around it.

“Kiss me or feed,” Hanzo demanded.

“Can’t imagine you’d wanna taste your own blood in my mouth,” Jesse chuckled. He dipped his head and sucked at Hanzo’s neck, then stole a hand down between them and opened his pants, their cocks slotting together in rough passes. Jesse sank his teeth deep into Hanzo’s shoulder, hiking Hanzo’s thigh up over his hip as he did. Hanzo came with a low sound over his stomach and Jesse’s chest.

When Hanzo returned to himself, Jesse was disentangling them and cleaning them up with tissues from the box on the nightstand. “Here we go. Ah, one sec, darlin’.” Jesse leaned away, tucking his erection back into his pants with a grunt. He reached to the nightstand again and came back with a small first aid kit.

Hanzo leaned up on his elbows. “What are you doing?”

Jesse paused, hand hovering with sterile wipes, staring at him like it was obvious. “I made you bleed? Should probably take care of that?”

“Ah,” Hanzo replied, distracted by the prominent bulge in Jesse’s jeans. He was still drifting down from orgasm. The bites were beginning to sting and throb but desire was a tight coil in his gut.

Heat darkened Jesse’s eyes, and finally there was the predator staring back at Hanzo, still as a statue while contemplating Hanzo spread out and spent in front of him. “Lookin’ greedy, partner.” Licking blood from his lips, Jesse pushed aside the box of first aid supplies, hooked one big hand under Hanzo’s knee, and yanked Hanzo towards him. “How ‘bout I put it in you so you can feel it the old fashioned way?”

Hanzo hid a shudder. “You think you can hold a candle to my ‘faulty wiring’?”

Going up on his knees, Jesse pulled his jeans down, his cock bobbing free of them enough of a sight that Hanzo had no reply when Jesse smiled, all fang. “I got more than wiring going for me, darlin’.” He tossed a small tube of lubrication at Hanzo. “I wanna watch you get yourself ready for me.”

With deliberate slowness, Hanzo poured lube onto three fingers. He could feel a flush crawling up his neck to his ears. Laying back, he shifted his legs wider, stared Jesse in the eye as he sank a finger into himself. Jesse met his gaze unabashed, hand straying down to stroke his cock as he watched Hanzo work himself open. Two fingers, then a third. Hanzo crooked them inside himself and his muscles clenched when they brushed against his prostate.

“Hands and knees, darlin’.”

Breath coming quick, Hanzo turned over and raised up on all fours. The mattress dipped behind him and he heard a condom packet rip. Jesse gripped his hip, grazing the shallow bite from before as Jesse split him open. Already Hanzo was throbbing, still stimulated from his first orgasm, the bites on his body pulsing in response.

Jesse’s first thrusts were slow, shallow. Then pretense fell away and he was pulling Hanzo back onto his dick as he bucked his hips forward. A second orgasm began gathering in the base of Hanzo’s spine. Jesse snapped their bodies close and it thundered through him like waves against a stormy shore.

Chapter Text

TWO WEEKS BEFORE:

Genji ducked into a coffee shop, waiting until Hanzo was out of sight. He ordered a latte with more espresso shots than most should drink in their lifetime, then continued following, keeping the blue and gold of his brother’s jacket in sight through the rest of the night crowd. They’d been estranged for years now but you remember a few things when growing up with a person. Like how far their areas of situational awareness extend.

Man, our family is fucked up, Genji thought, sipping at his drink. Rain would be starting soon. His leg ached with it.

The club was small and tucked away down a public alley. Not Hanzo’s usual fare. Nonetheless, he was showing his license at the door and going in. Genji hung by the mouth of the alleyway. He pulled up the hood of his sweatshirt, suddenly uncertain. He’d followed Hanzo here for...what. To confront him? A few scattered band-aids on his brother’s neck were hardly evidence of anything. That club was too small to hide for very long. Hanzo would find him. Then they’d have it out.

In public. Where Hanzo would react the worst.

Genji walked back the way he’d come and found a bench to sit on to ease his leg. Rain started to patter around him on the pavement. If he was smart, he’d go home. Potato would be mad at Genji for feeding him so late anyway. He finished his coffee, mulling it over, then walked back to the club. He’d come all this way. He could check on Hanzo and quickly leave. No harm in that.

The bouncer did a double-take, looking from his license to his scarred face, but otherwise gave him no trouble.

He circled the club twice, passing through the bar, observing the dance floor for flashes of his brother. In a last-ditch effort, he looked through the booths towards the back where couples were more interested in each other’s bodies than they were the mediocre food. No sign of Hanzo.

The door to the men’s room opened. The figure emerged slunk more than walked, eyes reflecting back the light from the dance floor.

Cold weight settled in Genji’s stomach. He pushed his way across the club to the battered door of the men’s restroom.

Hanzo lay on the floor in front of the sinks, his neck a patchwork of bloody bites.

Genji dropped next to Hanzo, feeling for his pulse. “Hanzo. Hanzo!” He ripped strips of fabric from the bottom of his t-shirt, wadded them up and pressed them to the worst of the bleeding. Hanzo jerked under his hold and made a low noise.

“What the fuck were you doing? What the fuck,” Genji swore in Japanese. He dug for his cellphone. An ambulance wouldn’t make it back here, but a cab could. He wrestled Hanzo up, draped heavily over his shoulder and walked him from the bathroom, then out the back exit of the club. Genji gave up the ruse of Hanzo doing any of his own walking and hefted him up across his shoulders, carrying him to the street, his prosthetic leg complaining all the way. Luck was with them. A cab was parked a few yards down the street. Sending a silent apology to the cab he’d just called, Genji thumped his hand against the passenger-side window, startling the cabbie from his sandwich.

“What?” The cabbie demanded.

Genji pressed a handful of twenty-dollar bills to the passenger window. “Take us to a hospital,” he demanded. The cabbie took one look at them and turned on the engine. Genji tossed the wad of money into the front seat and wrestled Hanzo into the backseat. The door was barely closed when the cabbie took off.

-

Genji had read two magazines back to back before Hanzo stirred on his hospital bed and turned to squint at him, “Who are--” Hanzo stopped, realizing, then faced forward, eyes narrowed.

“Came to visit. You know, like family is supposed to,” Genji said, dropping the magazine on the extra chair. He leaned back, crossing his arms. He didn’t need to implicate Lucio in the intervention. One of them had to stay a ‘good guy’. “So you’re into fangs these days,” he stated.

Hanzo’s expression didn’t change. He touched the mass of bandages on his neck. “It’s not your business. I should have you arrested for stalking me.”

Genji laughed, “Sure, try it.” He rapped his knuckles on the hard plastic just below his knee. “I can pull the crippled brother card if you want to go that route.”

Expression hardening, Hanzo glared at him. “What do you want?” he demanded.

A lot of things, if Genji was honest. It was a sliding scale from ‘I want to punch you in the fucking face’ to ‘I think we should get edibles and play Mariokart,’ neither of which was going to help the current situation. “We’ll start small. I want you to admit what you did--what you’re doing--is dangerous.”

“I had everything under control.”

“Fucking idiot--you were face down on a bathroom floor!” Genji got a flash of pleasure at the surprise on Hanzo’s face. Not many people told Hanzo off like he deserved. Genji had and got his leg busted up and his face scarred for it, but they weren’t in the family anymore. Just people. Regular people.

Now if only they could have regular problems.

Genji stood up, dropped two emptied blood bags onto Hanzo’s lap. They’d almost needed a third. “Go ahead. Say it again. Tell me you had everything under control.”

Hanzo stared at the plastic bags, his jaw working, setting. “You wouldn’t understand,” he rasped.

Genji inhaled deep, exhaled slow. He scrubbed a hand through his short hair. Hearing that again was like stepping back five years to Hanzo explaining why they had to murder a little old shop keeper who had been snitching on them to the authorities. Genji never led the clan, which made it fine for people to tell him he didn’t get it, that it was beyond his ken when the answers were so frustratingly simple if they pulled their heads out their asses and saw them.

Now it was just him and Hanzo, and if Hanzo thought pulling that would shut him up, he was damn wrong. “Then tell me,” Genji urged. “Get it all out there. Make me understand why my brother is chasing vampire fangs.”

Hanzo didn’t answer. Wouldn’t meet his eyes.

Just like always.

Chapter Text

13 DAYS AGO

Hanzo stared out the window of the cab, watching the bright tracks of rain cross the glass in halting lines. He ached, wanted to sleep, but couldn’t bring himself to. Not yet. Genji sat across the seat from him, uncharacteristically quiet. He hadn’t spoken since Hanzo had been released from the hospital. Hanzo didn’t know this serious-faced man pantomiming the brother he’d lost years ago at least in speech. Though perhaps it would’ve been worse if nothing had changed at all.

“Ne, can we stop around the corner? Anywhere along there is fine,” Genji said to the driver, leaning between the two front seats. The cabbie dutifully pulled over and let them out onto the sidewalk. Hanzo shoved his hands into his sweatshirt pockets. “Where are we going?”

Genji beckoned, still silent, and Hanzo saw too late their destination.

A ramen shop.

Following, Hanzo felt his heart pushing up into his throat, threatening to choke him. Everything had a familiar softness, from the feel of the rough tabletops, the sound of the chairs against the floor, the way Genji smiled at their waitress when he gave her his order. Hanzo stammered out an old favorite with extra pork.

The waitress left and Hanzo plucked the drink menu from its holder, pretending to be engrossed in the offerings. His neck started to throb with all the looking down. Clenching his jaw, he made himself refuse the impulse to press a hand to the bandages. He’d been lucky so far; nothing had scarred. This time would likely leave a mark.

“Lucio invited us over after,” Genji said, twirling his chopsticks in one hand. “He wants to make sure I didn’t let some hack patch you up and shove you out the door.”

“You told him,” Hanzo said. He put the drink menu back with deliberate slowness.

Genji shrugged. “He’d be mad if you showed up covered in bandages and I didn’t say anything.”

“Who said I would be joining you?” Hanzo retorted.

“Me,” Genji replied. “Though Lucio did mention he wouldn’t patch you up anymore on the down-low if you were going to be a bitch about it.”

Hanzo let out a breath through his nose and sipped his water. “I don’t appreciate being carted around like a child,” he growled. “Or threatened.”

Genji shrugged. “Regardless, it’s your choice. Though if I were you, I wouldn’t piss Lucio off. He keeps long grudges under the friendly face.”

“You’d know.”

“I do know.”

They lapsed into silence. Picking at a knot in the wooden table, Hanzo asked, “What do you do now?”

“I work at a fabrication place.” Genji smiled wide. “Turns out I’m not just good with sword blades. I can make a mean table, too.”

Hanzo chuckled despite himself. “You? Manual labor? The world has turned inside out.”

The waitress returned with their orders and drinks.

Breaking his chopsticks apart, Genji asked, “What about you?”

Hanzo prodded the egg in his bowl, mixing the yolk with the broth. “I’m keeping my options open.” It was the least self-effacing way he had to say he’d been laid off a month ago from a desk job he couldn’t stand. Unemployment had been a series of demeaning phone calls and spreadsheets. The most headway he’d made on bills was the crumpled wad of twenties the vampire from the night before had slipped him before he’d fed. One hundred dollars for something he sought out was a cost-effective deal.

Genji frowned, noodles halfway to his mouth. “Do you need help?” he asked.

“I have savings until unemployment kicks in,” Hanzo lied. What Genji didn’t know wouldn’t be a topic of conversation.

They talked about small things in between bites of ramen. Genji did not press him about the vampires. Hanzo did not press him about whether or not Genji had kicked the drinking habit entirely. A careful brunch.

Lucio, however, was as direct as always, even in his friendly way.

Once they’d arrived at his small apartment, the diminutive doctor pulled Hanzo into the kitchen where the light was best and inspected the bandages. Whistling low, Lucio pressed them down again. “Son of a bitch got you good, my friend,” he remarked. “Can’t knock that patch up job, though. When was the last time you ate?”

“Before we came over,” Genji said, patting his belly. “Good broth.”

“Good,” Lucio said. “Make sure you eat a little extra. Your body’s gonna need it for recovery.”

“Of course,” Hanzo responded. He wouldn't get away with anything less. Lucio had been on contract with the family for a short time to provide stitches and pull out bullet shrapnel when required. Once Lucio had graduated medical school, he let his contract run out and left on pleasant terms. Well enough that Hanzo had still heard from him from time to time.

They stayed at Lucio's apartment for the better part of the day, Genji and Lucio playing video games or sharing stories. Hanzo was content to listen, drowsy for much of it. He never slept well in hospitals.

Evening came and they ordered take out which Genji grudgingly volunteered to pick up. Hanzo was almost dozing when Lucio's soft "hey" brought him around.

"I have something to show you," Lucio said, swiping through his phone, then handing it to Hanzo. A dark, sleek looking app showed on the screen, red lettering across it saying "B L E E D R".

"What is it?" Hanzo asked.

"It's a donor service for vampires. People sign on as donors, get matched with vampires and...well, they meet up and the vampires feed on them. The donor gets paid for their time, travel, and some other stuff. The healthcare benefits are insane."

Hanzo narrowed his eyes. "You don't approve of my habits, yet you suggest this…"

Sighing, Lucio replied, "I might not, but I'm realistic. I know you're not going to stop just because I frown at you about it. The least I can do is help you find a safer outlet."

The notion hung in the back of Hanzo's head until they parted ways near midnight. In the back of the cab home, Hanzo flipped through app reviews, all perfectly cheerful and sterile from alleged vampires and humans alike. No lawsuits or investigations. The terms of service were straightforward about requirements.

Once home, he performed his nightly rituals, then sprawled in bed, filling out a profile. The templates were extensive and very akin to a dating profile, though there was a check box specifically for those open to the idea of intimacy. He filled out what seemed appropriate and just this side of vanilla, then sent it off. He got an immediate notification in his email about some light medical paperwork needed before he could activate his account. He was about to throw his phone into the pile of dirty laundry in a fit of apathetic frustration when he saw the missed call. The landlord’s name showed on the notification. Likely reminding him he was late with rent.

Swearing, he picked at the tape holding the wound dressings on his neck. Soon there’d be ER bills on top of the rest, thanks to Genji. He finished peeling the tape off, rolled from the bed and went to the small bathroom to wipe off the adhesive. Warm water stung the bite wounds, but it felt good to let the skin air.

“Do you need help?”

Hanzo threw the wadded up toilet paper into the trash harder than necessary. Genji was the last person on earth he’d accept help from, financial or otherwise. He didn’t doubt his brother’s noble intentions, but it was too much. Unacceptable.

He exhaled through his nose, took up his phone again, this time sending an email to his doctor for documentation. He would try the application and if it didn’t suit him, he’d quit. Simple as that.

Chapter Text

Hanzo was well into his morning jog when his phone buzzed in his shorts. Waiting for the light to change, he fished it out. There were only so many apps with notifications allowed. 

Bleedr: NEW MESSAGE FROM reaper24 

Stepping back from the crosswalk, Hanzo tapped the user's profile. Since becoming Jesse's donor, he'd had a steady stream of interested vampires in his inbox. There was the odd message making ridiculously flowery overtures, but they were mostly the same flavor of, "nice body, do you fuck, too?" And then their own profiles full of lackluster photos on mountains or the vampire with the smudged out faces of friends. 

This reaper24 did not have photos of mountains or group photos with most of the faces scribbled out. 

He did, however, have well chosen photos of his impressive upper body, some of which were taken shamelessly at the gym. 

Morbidly curious, Hanzo opened the message.

Free weights or Smith machine?

After jogging across the street, Hanzo typed back, I prefer free weights and TRX. 

A measured time later, he felt his phone buzz again.

Same, yeah. Shows in your chest. 

Such flattery.  

What, do you prefer vamps talking to you like you're meat? 

Hanzo wiped his face with the hem of his shirt. Typed back, I have no illusions . 

But do you prefer it? Does it get you off?

He let the question hang, then answered, Perhaps.  

Wanna hear what I'd do to you?

Hanzo felt himself flush, the skin on his arms prickling. Mouth dry, hollow need seethed through him, all sharp and thin. He reached compulsively to his neck and pressed on the healing bites Jesse had left, sucking in his breath at the dull throb they responded with. 

Do it.

I might be a vampire but I can't crawl through a phone. Tonight, the old Westin? I'm buying. 

Yes. 

Come prepped if you know what's good for you.

_

The hotel was old and more up-scale than he'd anticipated. Hanzo stood idly running a finger along the marble of the front desk while the attendant prepared a key card for him. She was handing it over when fingers skated over Hanzo's lower back and a large hand posessively cupped his hip. 

"Glad you could make it," the vampire smiled, mouth bracketed by a goatee. Old scars stood out on the brown skin of his cheek. Handsome even without need screaming under Hanzo's skin. 

The elevator was old and made some distressing noises as it shuddered its way to their floor. It might’ve given Hanzo pause if he were alone, but being trapped in a small ascending cage of metal with a vampire while need howled through him was more than sufficient distraction. 

"Name's Gabriel," the vampire said as they waited for the elevator to reach their floor. 

Hanzo rasped out his own name in return, thinking too late it might be a safety concern, then dismissed the idea. He was far less helpless than the majority of donors.

The walk to the room was short, though his sense of time was skewed, every moment an eternity until there were fangs in his skin and he was floating outside himself. 

Once inside, Gabriel crowded him against the closed door, reaching to lock it with a deliberate click. 

"What's your safeword?"

Long practice allowed Hanzo to meet his eyes and answer, "Pachimari."

"Strip down."

He disrobed with jerking movements, fingers stumbling over buttons and zippers, bumping against the door more than once in the small space Gabriel allowed him. He was already flushing, his cock stirring as he shed his underwear. Naked, Hanzo cupped a hand over his groin in embarrassment. 

Gabriel took Hanzo's chin in his hand, said, "I'm going to fuck you and drink when you come. Got a problem with that?"

Hanzo shook his head once and Gabriel dragged him from the door to the large bed already turned down, a black sheet covering the hotel linens. Wrestling him on it, Gabriel held him down with one arm pinned behind his back just shy of painful. The sudden hot pain of fangs in his neck near his ear yanked a gasp from him. Languor came in a hot rush and everything took on a soft feeling, his muscles going slack. So quick. Not enough to stop that desperate need clawing under his skin. Gabriel let his arm go and his weight left the bed. Rustling noises said he was undressing, followed by the ripping of a foil packet and snap of a lubricant bottle. 

A rough hand pulled one of his asscheeks aside and three fingers slid into him with no resistance.

"Good boy," Gabriel murmured. 

The fingers pulled out, both hands parting his ass. The head of Gabriel's dick nudged against him, wet with more lubrication, then pushed. Hanzo's mouth dropped open at the stretch yet his body yielded and yielded more until Gabriel's hips were flush to his ass. He was thicker than what Hanzo was used to taking, but langor had loosened him enough to allow it. 

Gabriel moved and Hanzo's breath left him, Gabriel's girthy cock bumping over his prostate with every thrust. Fisting a hand in his hair, Gabriel pulled Hanzo's head to one side, exposing the line of his neck.

"You gonna be good and come for me or am I gonna have to make you?" 

Hanzo replied with a low sound. He was already leaking precome, loose and taut as a bowstring all at once. 

Gabriel pulled out suddenly and shifted Hanzo's limp body to face the end of the bed. The dresser was low, solid wood, no doubt an heirloom with a wide mirror hanging above it.

Laying on his side, Hanzo watched his reflection through the haze of langor as Gabriel hefted his leg up and entered him again from behind.

In the mirror, he watched himself being fucked roughly by nothing.

Gabriel's big hand cupped his throat, squeezed, and Hanzo came with a gasp, spasming around the thick cock inside of him. Gabriel's teeth sank into his neck and thin rivlets of blood speeded to the dip between his collar bones, welling there. 

The room spun. Hanzo closed his eyes and let go, floating in the red darkness, lost in the sensation of being used. Laid open and taken from, entirely the sum of his parts or less. Soft flesh to puncture. Hot, clenching orifices to fill. Blood enough to feed a continent for anyone with the will to take it.

Far away, he felt Gabriel come inside his abused body, lick the wounds at his neck clean. Gabriel pulled out of him and Hanzo opened his mouth to moan, though all that escaped was a sharp breath. 

A warm wash cloth cleaned his thighs, his chest, the back of his neck. Gabriel ordered room service on the provided telephone, then sat on the bed next to Hanzo, smoking and running his calloused fingers through Hanzo's hair and over the shaved parts of his head as the langor ebbed away. Odd and soothing,

Uncalled for.

Hanzo flexed his fingers, made sure he had control of them, then pushed Gabriel’s petting hand away, sitting up too quickly but determined not to show it. 

Expression surprised, Gabriel dropped his hand. He looked away,  ashed his cigarette on the tray at the nightstand. “Okay,” he said. 

Ignoring him, Hanzo stumbled into the adjoining bathroom and shut the door. He showered, scrubbing roughly at his neck until the fresh bite flared with pain, a throb from his groin answering it. His fingers found it, pressed harder until fresh blood welled and spilled and he bared his teeth at the pain.The shower wall turned rough, the fading langor like the welcome poison of alcohol, hissing rain--

A knock at the door. “You okay in there?” Gabriel asked.

“Fine,” Hanzo replied, voice cracking. He cleared his throat, found it tight when he swallowed. Hanzo stepped from the shower after rinsing his neck again, the coppery smell of blood gone.