Moonshadows (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
moonshadows) wrote2013-02-24 06:55 am
moonshadows) wrote2013-02-24 06:55 am
TATCH AU
After having been so completely isolated between the fire and when he'd been rudely informed that a new recruit was arriving right now, Reaper wasn't ashamed to admit that he was a needy little fuck when it came to affection. It hit him hard when Ana left, telling him 'This is not goodbye, Gabriel'. He was glad Sombra hadn't managed to code him a working human shape because he knew he would have cried, and he didn't go back to being a dog until he was sure he wouldn't whine and howl.
He hadn't exactly felt like Gabriel even when Ana had used the name. Now that she was gone, he felt even less like anything but Reaper, the heartless inhuman monster. But at the same time, perversely, it made him even needier for affection from people who'd known him before everything went to shit. That's not to say that he didn't appreciate Sombra, because she was the only fucking constant in what passed for his life and he knew, with a certainty that defied his worst self-doubts, that she would always be there for him no matter how much of a monster he was.
But he didn't want to be a monster. He wanted to pretend, even just for a little, that he was worthy of the affection he so desperately craved.
Jack had always had a soft spot for him, something he hadn't been comfortable with before everything went down. He didn't go for the mushy stuff, never had. But this wasn't him being mushy, it was a physical need. Physical contact. Nothing shameful about physical needs. So he bothered Morrison at every opportunity, demanding to be petted, demanding the food he knew Jack had gotten him as a bribe, demanding time spent outside playing tug-of-war with the cloth rope or chasing the Frisbee until he'd tired himself out.
As with Sombra, he was more grateful than he wanted to admit (even to himself) that his old friend put up with his bullshit. But he couldn't bring himself to voice any of it. All he could do was not put as much energy into being a dick and hope that Morrison was reading between the lines.
That's why, when Jack slipped and called him 'babe', he rolled with it.
They'd been playing Frisbee, and Reaper had decided that he was done for the moment, running to the tree and flopping down instead of bringing the red disk back to Morrison. The old softie had taken it in stride and called out, "Need a drink, babe?"
"Nah," Reaper said.
Then the realization of what they'd heard hit both of them. Jack blushed bright red.
"Gabe," he said emphatically. "I said Gabe, I swear!"
Reaper started wagging. "Suuuuure you did," he drawled. Back in the day, he would have ignored it. Anyone else, he would have teased mercilessly. But today...today, it made him feel...good. "Tell you what," he said as Morrison sat down next to him. "I'll let you call me that for the rest of the day - but, I want something out of it, too."
Jack's short-lived elation hardened into well-deserved suspicion. "What do you want?" he asked warily.
"Well, it's been forever since I-" Horror bloomed on Jack's face. "Calm down! I'm not asking for an orifice!" Reaper said sulkily, opting to not think about why that perfectly natural recoil at the implication of sex with a dog had hurt somehow. "I just want a handjob. Seriously, Jack, I'm reduced to humping a plush duck after five years of nothing. I just want to feel another living person for once, alright?"
He was whining, and he knew it, so he gave Morrison the super-effective doggy eyes and was...weirdly thrilled when Morrison sighed, shook his head, and smiled.
"Alright," Jack said. "Babe."
It took next to nothing to slide his dick out of its sheath. Feeling Jack's big, rough, warm hand around it made him groan. Reaper gave absolutely no fucks how undignified it was, humping into Jack's loose fist, panting and whining. It felt good, better than he remembered sex feeling. He put it down to being desperate. That didn't account for how warm the afterglow felt, how contented and relaxed he was as he laid his head on Jack's knee and how happy it made him feel when Jack started petting him and murmured a teasing, "Was it good for you, babe?"
It felt like too much effort to make a sarcastic comment. "Yeah," he sighed. After a moment, he added, "Thanks, Jack."
Morrison laughed in surprise. "Wow. That good, huh? Do we need to do this more often? The next time you're in a lousy mood, should I take you out back and make your duck jealous?"
"You'd be amazed how well it works," Reaper countered, wagging. The idea of this not being a one-time thing was a lot more enticing than he expected it to be, but something in him squirmed at it, wanting more somehow. "Listen," he sighed. "I know you have feelings for me. I've known for years. You've been a better friend than I probably deserved, and for the foreseeable future, I'm either a dog or a man-eating smoke construct, but..." Reaper took a deep breath. "If you wanted to make mushy romantic gestures at me anyway, right now I'm too much of a needy asshole to turn them down."
The hand on his head stopped, and Reaper bit back a whine.
"Do you really mean that?" Jack asked quietly. "You'd let me call you dumb pet names and bring you random gifts and...and..."
Reaper cringed. "And know that they're just as one-sided as if I'd ever taken you up on your drunk offers for sex?"
"Friends with benefits." Morrison had that stubborn note in his voice now. "We can trade benefits. You let me be a romantic sap at you, and I'll make sure you don't need to hump a plush duck anymore."
Emotions Reaper wasn't used to feeling washed over him in an intense but confusing wave. "I don't deserve you," he said, biting back a whine.
Jack urged him up and hugged him. "Too bad, babe," he murmured into Reaper's fur. "I've wanted to do this for the last thirty-some years, and I'm not going to let your self-worth issues get in the way. I love you, you egotistical bastard."
Reaper whined and pressed his face into the hollow of Jack's neck. He wanted to say something, to detangle the knot of emotions choking him, but nothing came out.
"It's okay, babe," Jack murmured, stroking his neck reassuringly and kissing the top of his head. "I've got you."
===
When Jack announced he was going to move into the HQ building, Reaper felt like he'd been punched in the gut. He dissolved into smoke and fled the room, fled the safehouse, and lurked as a petulant shadow under the bushes in the backyard until Jack emerged from the building and started walking around, clearly trying to find him.
"I know you're upset, babe." Jack called as he checked behind trees and under bushes. "I'm sorry. I didn't know how to tell you."
Reaper had always hated how, even without a face, his body had still revealed what he was feeling. The doberman was even worse. He solidified behind Jack, wearing the hoodie configuration Sombra had coded him, which didn't wisp. Arms crossed, he growled an accusatory, "You're leaving."
Jack spun around and hugged him. "You didn't let me finish, babe. I want you to come with me."
He was being hugged. That fact seemed to short-circuit him, and it felt like forever before Jack's words sank in. "You...what?"
"I want you to move into the HQ building with me," Jack repeated calmly. "As a dog. No one has to know who you are."
"And that will last all of a day," he growled, still feeling hurt and sick and not understanding why. "You should stay here."
"You know I can't do that, babe. Not and be the leader Overwatch needs."
"What about what I need?"
They both froze. Reaper cursed himself for blurting that out without even knowing what he would say if Jack asked what he needed.
"I'll spend the weekends here," Jack said slowly. "How's that?"
Reaper hugged him tighter, feeling helpless and pathetically needy. "Not good enough."
"We'll go out to dinner on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and you can spend the night whenever you want."
That was as good as he was going to get, Reaper thought. "Fine," he said sulkily.
"I'm sorry, babe," Jack said softly. "I know you don't want me to go. But I need to do this. What can I do to make it up to you?"
Reaper didn't have an answer for that. He melted into a dog and let Jack pet him, hug him, and jerk him off, but he still felt...heartbroken.
===
Months passed. Adjusting to Jack's absence was rough. He sulked a lot, initially refusing to come out of the can when the man came back on the weekends, showing up at the HQ in the mornings with his leash, demanding morning runs. That stopped as the weather turned colder.
The first time he stayed overnight, dinner had been pizza and beer in Jack's private quarters. Neither of them actually got drunk, Reaper because of his nanites and Jack because of the SEP's meddling combined with not being a heavy drinker. Reaper was already feeling too full and content to want to brave the chilly night air, but then the clouds burst open and a heavy, ice-cold rain started to fall. He didn't even have to say anything; Jack just turned down the covers in a wordless invitation and they cuddled in bed until they both fell asleep.
A week later, Jack had a water bowl, a doggy bed, and an assortment of toys and chews scattered between his quarters and his office. Reaper started staying the night more often, claiming that he didn't want to deal with the cold. No one at the HQ questioned why Jack was sharing custody of a talking dog, at least not where Reaper could hear.
Christmas Eve, Reaper slept in Jack's room at the safehouse. He got all kinds of gifts, but what he found himself treasuring most was when Jack woke up and murmured, "Merry Christmas, babe," into his fur.
===
Valentine's Day fell on a Tuesday.
Sombra was beyond thrilled to code a special configuration for him, and she didn't even ask why he wanted it. Then again, it was Sombra. She knew everything, or it was better to assume that she did. He knew Jack would be pulling out all the stops after three decades of Valentine's Days where he couldn't lavish attention on the man he loved, but Reaper wanted to give as good as he was sure he was going to get. Jack had assured him that dinner was taken care of, all he had to do was show up.
Well, he showed up, but he was carrying a picnic-style basket of rose petals, scented candles (cut grass, fresh hay, leather, smoke - everything that would evoke Jack's teenage years), massage oil, thick lube, and a package of condoms McCree insisted were "the best". The special configuration Sombra had given him was outwardly identical to his body as it was when he was 45, but she'd painstakingly coded an optional erection (he really, really needed to do something nice for her) and an anal passage modeled after a penetrable sex toy. Morrison may have claimed back in the day that all he wanted was the cuddling, but Reaper could smell that Jack had been...taking care of things...when he wasn't there. So if he wanted it, Reaper was prepared to give it to him as best he could.
Sure enough, when the door to Jack's quarters opened, he found the man on a thick, warm fleece rug spread out on the floor, with dinner already prepared. Tender pieces of steak, bite-sized pieces of bread to sop up the juices, tiny berry tarts with whipped cream, squares of cheesecake with dark, rich chocolate sauce for dipping.
"What's in the basket, babe?" Jack asked as the door closed behind Reaper.
He carried the basket to the door of the bedroom and set it down before answering. "Surprise for later. You really pulled out all the stops," he said softly, a little surprised by how touched he was to see it.
Jack gestured him over and hugged him. "Only the best for you. Thank you for letting me do this, Gabriel."
"Jack..."
"Babe?"
Reaper's insides squirmed. "You're sure you want to waste this on a dog?"
"I'm not wasting it," Jack said, frowning. "I don't mind that you don't...that you can't..."
"You mind," Reaper said, and the other man flushed. "Jack, this isn't fair to you."
"What...what are you saying, Gabe?"
Reaper's form blurred into black smoke and re-formed into a naked Gabriel Reyes with a fond smile coded onto his face. Jack's breath caught. "I'm saying shut up and let me feed you, dumbass," he said while his face stayed static.
"Gabe..."
Jack reached out slowly, feeling Reaper's face, running one hand down his cheek, his chest, before leaning forward and hugging him tightly. Reaper returned the hug, grateful that he didn't breathe in this form because Jack sounded close to tears. He'd hugged Sombra, held her as she cried, rubbed her back and stroked her hair. This was somehow different. It was only a minute before Jack pulled away and beamed at him, but it felt like an aching eternity.
Reaper fed Jack by hand, offering him pieces of meat or bread, letting him lick steak juice from his fingers. Then, at Jack's insistence, he switched back to being a dog and let Jack feed him the same way. As a naked man, he teased Morrison with berries, cream, cheesecake, and chocolate. More than once, things dripped onto his chest and he wished he could feel it as Jack licked them off. Then, making a joke about how messy dessert was, Jack took his shirt off to feed Reaper the sweet treats. The drips were deliberate, Reaper knew, but the shivering when his tongue scraped across Jack's skin...that was unexpected.
Unexpected, and arousing.
By the time the last bites had been cleaned up and swallowed, Reaper was more than ready to feel Jack's hand around his dick. He was so focused on that thought that Jack had his pants all the way off before he realized something was happening.
"Jack?" he asked warily.
The other man pulled his own bottle of lube out from behind something and gestured for Reaper to slide out of his sheath. "You let me feed you a romantic dinner, and you reciprocated," he said firmly. "I'm offering you an orifice. Just..." He broke off, blushing. "Ah...just mind the knot, okay?"
Jack was...
Jack was going to let him...
"Are you fucking nuts, Morrison? You're going to let a dog fuck you in the ass."
"No," Jack said stubbornly. "I'm going to let the one I love fuck me in the ass. He just happens to be shaped like a dog." Then, as if this while situation was completely normal, he reached out and smeared lube on Reaper's exposed member. "Be gentle if you can, babe? I've never done this before."
This was really happening. Reaper stared in shock. Jack was kneeling on the fleece, that lily-white ass turned to him and holy fuck, this was really happening. Gingerly, mindful of his nails, Reaper stood up and placed his forepaws on Jack's shoulders.
Then he backed down. "There's condoms in the basket," he said to Jack's confused look.
"Will they even fit on a dog?"
"Do you want to be leaking my cum? They stretch. Just...stretch it around my balls. There's some lube in the basket, too."
"I've got lube right here," Jack said with mild indignation.
Reaper snorted, his tail wagging. "Mine's better."
Jack flushed slightly. "I'll, uh, take your word on that."
Sure enough, the condom needed to be fitted over his balls before it would stay, and Jack slathered lube on it before assuming his previous position. Again, Reaper put his paws on Jack's shoulders and then gingerly slid his dick between Jack's cheeks. Slipping slowly in, back and forth, teasing, easing, was the most glorious torture of his life. Controlling his motions when all he wanted to do was ram himself balls-deep was exquisite agony. But finally, finally, sweet release found him and despite everything urging him to slam his hips forward into Jack's ass, he pulled out enough that he wouldn't damage his lover with his knot.
Wait. His what?
He'd had partners before, too many to bother counting, too many to care about counting. But this was the first time he'd thought of anyone as his lover.
And yet...it didn't feel wrong.
"Don't move, Morrison," he growled.
Without doing more than just pulling out, he shifted to the naked configuration, absorbing the condom and its contents as he did. Then he activated the erection function and lubed himself back up.
"You're going to enjoy this, too."
"Do you have to make it sound like a threat, babe?" Jack asked.
"Yes."
Jack laughed. "I should have known."
Then Reaper slid back inside, more sure now of his motions, and carefully probed unto he found Jack's prostate. The surprised sounds of pleasure he elicited from the other man made him feel almost as good as the afterglow.
"Was it good for you, babe?" he asked teasingly as Jack sprawled on the fleece.
Instead of answering, Jack just grabbed him and pulled him down to cuddle. They lay there for a handful of contented minutes before Jack said, "If I'd known it would be like that, I might not have missed the cuddling."
That made Reaper feel guilty, somehow.
Jack nestled closer, resting his cheek on one of Reaper's coded pecs. "I saw the massage oil in the basket. Is that the surprise? Massage with rose petals and scented candles?"
"I got scents that I thought would remind you of home."
"That was really sweet of you, babe," Jack said softly. "I wasn't expecting you to do anything that romantic."
Guilt stabbed at Reaper again. "I wasn't expecting you to do anything sexual."
Jack lipped at his ear. "Surprise," he whispered.
That night, when they went to bed, Reaper stayed in the special configuration and lay awake with his lover in his arms, wrestling with the fact that he'd wanted to do mushy, romantic things for Jack.
===
The month between Valentine's Day and White Day - Jack's birthday - seemed to drag for an eternity while simultaneously passing in a flash. Reaper worked frantically with Sombra, preparing the only White Day/birthday gift he could think of that would express his feelings, because damn it, he had them. His little shadow worked diligently to both make sure everything was ready and hide what they were doing.
"I'm serious, Sombra," he growled, pacing in his room on the morning of the thirteenth. "Whatever you want. I owe you."
She smirked at him and rolled her eyes. "You think I don't know that? Don't worry, I remember. Maybe some day I'll even call it in. Right now, though..." She pointed at the containment canister.
"I'm going, I'm going."
"See you on the other side," she said cheerfully as he dissolved into smoke.
Then there was silence, and darkness.
=
When Reaper woke up, the first thing he did was take a deep breath. Then it hit him what he'd done, and he rolled over to bite his pillow and muffle any sound that might escape him. He'd done it, he'd really done it. Or, rather, Sombra had done it, but she'd done it at his request.
Gabriel motherfucking Reyes stood up and stretched. He had twenty-four hours to get used to being human again before his birthday dinner with Jack. 'I don't want anything special,' his lover had said. 'You don't need to make a big fuss over my birthday,' his lover had said. (They hadn't done anything past the usual canine handjob since that night, although they did a lot of cudling. Gabriel suspected that Jack didn't want to use him as a sex toy.) 'That's fine,' Reaper had told him. 'Just meet me in your room.' Sombra, bless that wicked little shadow, had arranged a birthday cake, imported beer, and some truly massive, meat-filled subs. They'd be delivered tomorrow afternoon. She'd also inserted him into the HQ security systems and ensured that he had a full wardrobe to choose from.
Jack may not have wanted anything special for dinner, he may not have wanted gifts lavished on him, but he was not going to be expecting what Gabriel had planned.
===
The beer was in the fridge with the subs. The cake was on the table, no candles. The door to the bedroom was closed. On Jack Morrison's bed, which was now covered in black silk sheets and red rose petals because Gabriel had style, the bald man grinned and arranged his naked body to maximum effect. Any minute, he thought, twirling a red rose carefully between his fingers, reveling in being able to feel again, Jack was going to come through the outer door and call for him.
The door opened. Right on time.
"Babe?"
"In the bedroom," Gabriel called back before putting the rose carefully between his teeth.
The bedroom door opened. Jack stopped dead, staring in utter shock. Gabriel wiggled his eyebrows.
"...babe?"
Gabriel removed the rose and gestured Jack closer with it. Stunned, eyes roaming everywhere, the blond man obeyed. One knee on the bed, he stretched out a hand and cupped Gabriel's cheek.
"You..."
"I'm back," Gabriel said smugly. "Happy birthday, babe,"
"This...you...why?"
Gabriel sat up, took Jack's face between both hands, and kissed him. Midway through the kiss he wrapped his arms around the other man and leaned back, dragging his lover onto the bed with him. Hardness pressed against his thigh, and he grinned against Jack's lips.
"Because I love you," he said when the kiss ended.
Jack stared breathlessly at him, hope and fear warring in his eyes. "Don't toy with me, Gabe."
"I'm not," Gabriel said, peppering the underside of Jack's jaw with kisses. "Took me a while to realize what I was feeling, but Valentine's Day clued me in. Congratulations, Morrison. You've caught the rarest fish in the sea."
"You're...you're serious, babe?"
"Yeah. I did a lot of thinking about this, Jack. You make me happy. I want to make you happy. I'm still a mess and a needy asshole, but I'm your needy asshole. If you'll have me."
Jack rolled them over and stared into Gabriel's face from above. "Can I have you?" A slight thrust of his hips conveyed the meaning of the question.
"You want this sweet ass, Morrison?" Gabriel thrust back. "Many have lusted, none have succeeded. But you let me fuck you when I was a dog, so grab a condom and lube up because babe, I'm all yours."
"Gabriel..."
He frowned. "Jack, please. You're killing me, babe. Yes or no?"
Jack lowered his lips to Gabriel's, kissing slowly, gently.
"Yes."
He hadn't exactly felt like Gabriel even when Ana had used the name. Now that she was gone, he felt even less like anything but Reaper, the heartless inhuman monster. But at the same time, perversely, it made him even needier for affection from people who'd known him before everything went to shit. That's not to say that he didn't appreciate Sombra, because she was the only fucking constant in what passed for his life and he knew, with a certainty that defied his worst self-doubts, that she would always be there for him no matter how much of a monster he was.
But he didn't want to be a monster. He wanted to pretend, even just for a little, that he was worthy of the affection he so desperately craved.
Jack had always had a soft spot for him, something he hadn't been comfortable with before everything went down. He didn't go for the mushy stuff, never had. But this wasn't him being mushy, it was a physical need. Physical contact. Nothing shameful about physical needs. So he bothered Morrison at every opportunity, demanding to be petted, demanding the food he knew Jack had gotten him as a bribe, demanding time spent outside playing tug-of-war with the cloth rope or chasing the Frisbee until he'd tired himself out.
As with Sombra, he was more grateful than he wanted to admit (even to himself) that his old friend put up with his bullshit. But he couldn't bring himself to voice any of it. All he could do was not put as much energy into being a dick and hope that Morrison was reading between the lines.
That's why, when Jack slipped and called him 'babe', he rolled with it.
They'd been playing Frisbee, and Reaper had decided that he was done for the moment, running to the tree and flopping down instead of bringing the red disk back to Morrison. The old softie had taken it in stride and called out, "Need a drink, babe?"
"Nah," Reaper said.
Then the realization of what they'd heard hit both of them. Jack blushed bright red.
"Gabe," he said emphatically. "I said Gabe, I swear!"
Reaper started wagging. "Suuuuure you did," he drawled. Back in the day, he would have ignored it. Anyone else, he would have teased mercilessly. But today...today, it made him feel...good. "Tell you what," he said as Morrison sat down next to him. "I'll let you call me that for the rest of the day - but, I want something out of it, too."
Jack's short-lived elation hardened into well-deserved suspicion. "What do you want?" he asked warily.
"Well, it's been forever since I-" Horror bloomed on Jack's face. "Calm down! I'm not asking for an orifice!" Reaper said sulkily, opting to not think about why that perfectly natural recoil at the implication of sex with a dog had hurt somehow. "I just want a handjob. Seriously, Jack, I'm reduced to humping a plush duck after five years of nothing. I just want to feel another living person for once, alright?"
He was whining, and he knew it, so he gave Morrison the super-effective doggy eyes and was...weirdly thrilled when Morrison sighed, shook his head, and smiled.
"Alright," Jack said. "Babe."
It took next to nothing to slide his dick out of its sheath. Feeling Jack's big, rough, warm hand around it made him groan. Reaper gave absolutely no fucks how undignified it was, humping into Jack's loose fist, panting and whining. It felt good, better than he remembered sex feeling. He put it down to being desperate. That didn't account for how warm the afterglow felt, how contented and relaxed he was as he laid his head on Jack's knee and how happy it made him feel when Jack started petting him and murmured a teasing, "Was it good for you, babe?"
It felt like too much effort to make a sarcastic comment. "Yeah," he sighed. After a moment, he added, "Thanks, Jack."
Morrison laughed in surprise. "Wow. That good, huh? Do we need to do this more often? The next time you're in a lousy mood, should I take you out back and make your duck jealous?"
"You'd be amazed how well it works," Reaper countered, wagging. The idea of this not being a one-time thing was a lot more enticing than he expected it to be, but something in him squirmed at it, wanting more somehow. "Listen," he sighed. "I know you have feelings for me. I've known for years. You've been a better friend than I probably deserved, and for the foreseeable future, I'm either a dog or a man-eating smoke construct, but..." Reaper took a deep breath. "If you wanted to make mushy romantic gestures at me anyway, right now I'm too much of a needy asshole to turn them down."
The hand on his head stopped, and Reaper bit back a whine.
"Do you really mean that?" Jack asked quietly. "You'd let me call you dumb pet names and bring you random gifts and...and..."
Reaper cringed. "And know that they're just as one-sided as if I'd ever taken you up on your drunk offers for sex?"
"Friends with benefits." Morrison had that stubborn note in his voice now. "We can trade benefits. You let me be a romantic sap at you, and I'll make sure you don't need to hump a plush duck anymore."
Emotions Reaper wasn't used to feeling washed over him in an intense but confusing wave. "I don't deserve you," he said, biting back a whine.
Jack urged him up and hugged him. "Too bad, babe," he murmured into Reaper's fur. "I've wanted to do this for the last thirty-some years, and I'm not going to let your self-worth issues get in the way. I love you, you egotistical bastard."
Reaper whined and pressed his face into the hollow of Jack's neck. He wanted to say something, to detangle the knot of emotions choking him, but nothing came out.
"It's okay, babe," Jack murmured, stroking his neck reassuringly and kissing the top of his head. "I've got you."
===
When Jack announced he was going to move into the HQ building, Reaper felt like he'd been punched in the gut. He dissolved into smoke and fled the room, fled the safehouse, and lurked as a petulant shadow under the bushes in the backyard until Jack emerged from the building and started walking around, clearly trying to find him.
"I know you're upset, babe." Jack called as he checked behind trees and under bushes. "I'm sorry. I didn't know how to tell you."
Reaper had always hated how, even without a face, his body had still revealed what he was feeling. The doberman was even worse. He solidified behind Jack, wearing the hoodie configuration Sombra had coded him, which didn't wisp. Arms crossed, he growled an accusatory, "You're leaving."
Jack spun around and hugged him. "You didn't let me finish, babe. I want you to come with me."
He was being hugged. That fact seemed to short-circuit him, and it felt like forever before Jack's words sank in. "You...what?"
"I want you to move into the HQ building with me," Jack repeated calmly. "As a dog. No one has to know who you are."
"And that will last all of a day," he growled, still feeling hurt and sick and not understanding why. "You should stay here."
"You know I can't do that, babe. Not and be the leader Overwatch needs."
"What about what I need?"
They both froze. Reaper cursed himself for blurting that out without even knowing what he would say if Jack asked what he needed.
"I'll spend the weekends here," Jack said slowly. "How's that?"
Reaper hugged him tighter, feeling helpless and pathetically needy. "Not good enough."
"We'll go out to dinner on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and you can spend the night whenever you want."
That was as good as he was going to get, Reaper thought. "Fine," he said sulkily.
"I'm sorry, babe," Jack said softly. "I know you don't want me to go. But I need to do this. What can I do to make it up to you?"
Reaper didn't have an answer for that. He melted into a dog and let Jack pet him, hug him, and jerk him off, but he still felt...heartbroken.
===
Months passed. Adjusting to Jack's absence was rough. He sulked a lot, initially refusing to come out of the can when the man came back on the weekends, showing up at the HQ in the mornings with his leash, demanding morning runs. That stopped as the weather turned colder.
The first time he stayed overnight, dinner had been pizza and beer in Jack's private quarters. Neither of them actually got drunk, Reaper because of his nanites and Jack because of the SEP's meddling combined with not being a heavy drinker. Reaper was already feeling too full and content to want to brave the chilly night air, but then the clouds burst open and a heavy, ice-cold rain started to fall. He didn't even have to say anything; Jack just turned down the covers in a wordless invitation and they cuddled in bed until they both fell asleep.
A week later, Jack had a water bowl, a doggy bed, and an assortment of toys and chews scattered between his quarters and his office. Reaper started staying the night more often, claiming that he didn't want to deal with the cold. No one at the HQ questioned why Jack was sharing custody of a talking dog, at least not where Reaper could hear.
Christmas Eve, Reaper slept in Jack's room at the safehouse. He got all kinds of gifts, but what he found himself treasuring most was when Jack woke up and murmured, "Merry Christmas, babe," into his fur.
===
Valentine's Day fell on a Tuesday.
Sombra was beyond thrilled to code a special configuration for him, and she didn't even ask why he wanted it. Then again, it was Sombra. She knew everything, or it was better to assume that she did. He knew Jack would be pulling out all the stops after three decades of Valentine's Days where he couldn't lavish attention on the man he loved, but Reaper wanted to give as good as he was sure he was going to get. Jack had assured him that dinner was taken care of, all he had to do was show up.
Well, he showed up, but he was carrying a picnic-style basket of rose petals, scented candles (cut grass, fresh hay, leather, smoke - everything that would evoke Jack's teenage years), massage oil, thick lube, and a package of condoms McCree insisted were "the best". The special configuration Sombra had given him was outwardly identical to his body as it was when he was 45, but she'd painstakingly coded an optional erection (he really, really needed to do something nice for her) and an anal passage modeled after a penetrable sex toy. Morrison may have claimed back in the day that all he wanted was the cuddling, but Reaper could smell that Jack had been...taking care of things...when he wasn't there. So if he wanted it, Reaper was prepared to give it to him as best he could.
Sure enough, when the door to Jack's quarters opened, he found the man on a thick, warm fleece rug spread out on the floor, with dinner already prepared. Tender pieces of steak, bite-sized pieces of bread to sop up the juices, tiny berry tarts with whipped cream, squares of cheesecake with dark, rich chocolate sauce for dipping.
"What's in the basket, babe?" Jack asked as the door closed behind Reaper.
He carried the basket to the door of the bedroom and set it down before answering. "Surprise for later. You really pulled out all the stops," he said softly, a little surprised by how touched he was to see it.
Jack gestured him over and hugged him. "Only the best for you. Thank you for letting me do this, Gabriel."
"Jack..."
"Babe?"
Reaper's insides squirmed. "You're sure you want to waste this on a dog?"
"I'm not wasting it," Jack said, frowning. "I don't mind that you don't...that you can't..."
"You mind," Reaper said, and the other man flushed. "Jack, this isn't fair to you."
"What...what are you saying, Gabe?"
Reaper's form blurred into black smoke and re-formed into a naked Gabriel Reyes with a fond smile coded onto his face. Jack's breath caught. "I'm saying shut up and let me feed you, dumbass," he said while his face stayed static.
"Gabe..."
Jack reached out slowly, feeling Reaper's face, running one hand down his cheek, his chest, before leaning forward and hugging him tightly. Reaper returned the hug, grateful that he didn't breathe in this form because Jack sounded close to tears. He'd hugged Sombra, held her as she cried, rubbed her back and stroked her hair. This was somehow different. It was only a minute before Jack pulled away and beamed at him, but it felt like an aching eternity.
Reaper fed Jack by hand, offering him pieces of meat or bread, letting him lick steak juice from his fingers. Then, at Jack's insistence, he switched back to being a dog and let Jack feed him the same way. As a naked man, he teased Morrison with berries, cream, cheesecake, and chocolate. More than once, things dripped onto his chest and he wished he could feel it as Jack licked them off. Then, making a joke about how messy dessert was, Jack took his shirt off to feed Reaper the sweet treats. The drips were deliberate, Reaper knew, but the shivering when his tongue scraped across Jack's skin...that was unexpected.
Unexpected, and arousing.
By the time the last bites had been cleaned up and swallowed, Reaper was more than ready to feel Jack's hand around his dick. He was so focused on that thought that Jack had his pants all the way off before he realized something was happening.
"Jack?" he asked warily.
The other man pulled his own bottle of lube out from behind something and gestured for Reaper to slide out of his sheath. "You let me feed you a romantic dinner, and you reciprocated," he said firmly. "I'm offering you an orifice. Just..." He broke off, blushing. "Ah...just mind the knot, okay?"
Jack was...
Jack was going to let him...
"Are you fucking nuts, Morrison? You're going to let a dog fuck you in the ass."
"No," Jack said stubbornly. "I'm going to let the one I love fuck me in the ass. He just happens to be shaped like a dog." Then, as if this while situation was completely normal, he reached out and smeared lube on Reaper's exposed member. "Be gentle if you can, babe? I've never done this before."
This was really happening. Reaper stared in shock. Jack was kneeling on the fleece, that lily-white ass turned to him and holy fuck, this was really happening. Gingerly, mindful of his nails, Reaper stood up and placed his forepaws on Jack's shoulders.
Then he backed down. "There's condoms in the basket," he said to Jack's confused look.
"Will they even fit on a dog?"
"Do you want to be leaking my cum? They stretch. Just...stretch it around my balls. There's some lube in the basket, too."
"I've got lube right here," Jack said with mild indignation.
Reaper snorted, his tail wagging. "Mine's better."
Jack flushed slightly. "I'll, uh, take your word on that."
Sure enough, the condom needed to be fitted over his balls before it would stay, and Jack slathered lube on it before assuming his previous position. Again, Reaper put his paws on Jack's shoulders and then gingerly slid his dick between Jack's cheeks. Slipping slowly in, back and forth, teasing, easing, was the most glorious torture of his life. Controlling his motions when all he wanted to do was ram himself balls-deep was exquisite agony. But finally, finally, sweet release found him and despite everything urging him to slam his hips forward into Jack's ass, he pulled out enough that he wouldn't damage his lover with his knot.
Wait. His what?
He'd had partners before, too many to bother counting, too many to care about counting. But this was the first time he'd thought of anyone as his lover.
And yet...it didn't feel wrong.
"Don't move, Morrison," he growled.
Without doing more than just pulling out, he shifted to the naked configuration, absorbing the condom and its contents as he did. Then he activated the erection function and lubed himself back up.
"You're going to enjoy this, too."
"Do you have to make it sound like a threat, babe?" Jack asked.
"Yes."
Jack laughed. "I should have known."
Then Reaper slid back inside, more sure now of his motions, and carefully probed unto he found Jack's prostate. The surprised sounds of pleasure he elicited from the other man made him feel almost as good as the afterglow.
"Was it good for you, babe?" he asked teasingly as Jack sprawled on the fleece.
Instead of answering, Jack just grabbed him and pulled him down to cuddle. They lay there for a handful of contented minutes before Jack said, "If I'd known it would be like that, I might not have missed the cuddling."
That made Reaper feel guilty, somehow.
Jack nestled closer, resting his cheek on one of Reaper's coded pecs. "I saw the massage oil in the basket. Is that the surprise? Massage with rose petals and scented candles?"
"I got scents that I thought would remind you of home."
"That was really sweet of you, babe," Jack said softly. "I wasn't expecting you to do anything that romantic."
Guilt stabbed at Reaper again. "I wasn't expecting you to do anything sexual."
Jack lipped at his ear. "Surprise," he whispered.
That night, when they went to bed, Reaper stayed in the special configuration and lay awake with his lover in his arms, wrestling with the fact that he'd wanted to do mushy, romantic things for Jack.
===
The month between Valentine's Day and White Day - Jack's birthday - seemed to drag for an eternity while simultaneously passing in a flash. Reaper worked frantically with Sombra, preparing the only White Day/birthday gift he could think of that would express his feelings, because damn it, he had them. His little shadow worked diligently to both make sure everything was ready and hide what they were doing.
"I'm serious, Sombra," he growled, pacing in his room on the morning of the thirteenth. "Whatever you want. I owe you."
She smirked at him and rolled her eyes. "You think I don't know that? Don't worry, I remember. Maybe some day I'll even call it in. Right now, though..." She pointed at the containment canister.
"I'm going, I'm going."
"See you on the other side," she said cheerfully as he dissolved into smoke.
Then there was silence, and darkness.
=
When Reaper woke up, the first thing he did was take a deep breath. Then it hit him what he'd done, and he rolled over to bite his pillow and muffle any sound that might escape him. He'd done it, he'd really done it. Or, rather, Sombra had done it, but she'd done it at his request.
Gabriel motherfucking Reyes stood up and stretched. He had twenty-four hours to get used to being human again before his birthday dinner with Jack. 'I don't want anything special,' his lover had said. 'You don't need to make a big fuss over my birthday,' his lover had said. (They hadn't done anything past the usual canine handjob since that night, although they did a lot of cudling. Gabriel suspected that Jack didn't want to use him as a sex toy.) 'That's fine,' Reaper had told him. 'Just meet me in your room.' Sombra, bless that wicked little shadow, had arranged a birthday cake, imported beer, and some truly massive, meat-filled subs. They'd be delivered tomorrow afternoon. She'd also inserted him into the HQ security systems and ensured that he had a full wardrobe to choose from.
Jack may not have wanted anything special for dinner, he may not have wanted gifts lavished on him, but he was not going to be expecting what Gabriel had planned.
===
The beer was in the fridge with the subs. The cake was on the table, no candles. The door to the bedroom was closed. On Jack Morrison's bed, which was now covered in black silk sheets and red rose petals because Gabriel had style, the bald man grinned and arranged his naked body to maximum effect. Any minute, he thought, twirling a red rose carefully between his fingers, reveling in being able to feel again, Jack was going to come through the outer door and call for him.
The door opened. Right on time.
"Babe?"
"In the bedroom," Gabriel called back before putting the rose carefully between his teeth.
The bedroom door opened. Jack stopped dead, staring in utter shock. Gabriel wiggled his eyebrows.
"...babe?"
Gabriel removed the rose and gestured Jack closer with it. Stunned, eyes roaming everywhere, the blond man obeyed. One knee on the bed, he stretched out a hand and cupped Gabriel's cheek.
"You..."
"I'm back," Gabriel said smugly. "Happy birthday, babe,"
"This...you...why?"
Gabriel sat up, took Jack's face between both hands, and kissed him. Midway through the kiss he wrapped his arms around the other man and leaned back, dragging his lover onto the bed with him. Hardness pressed against his thigh, and he grinned against Jack's lips.
"Because I love you," he said when the kiss ended.
Jack stared breathlessly at him, hope and fear warring in his eyes. "Don't toy with me, Gabe."
"I'm not," Gabriel said, peppering the underside of Jack's jaw with kisses. "Took me a while to realize what I was feeling, but Valentine's Day clued me in. Congratulations, Morrison. You've caught the rarest fish in the sea."
"You're...you're serious, babe?"
"Yeah. I did a lot of thinking about this, Jack. You make me happy. I want to make you happy. I'm still a mess and a needy asshole, but I'm your needy asshole. If you'll have me."
Jack rolled them over and stared into Gabriel's face from above. "Can I have you?" A slight thrust of his hips conveyed the meaning of the question.
"You want this sweet ass, Morrison?" Gabriel thrust back. "Many have lusted, none have succeeded. But you let me fuck you when I was a dog, so grab a condom and lube up because babe, I'm all yours."
"Gabriel..."
He frowned. "Jack, please. You're killing me, babe. Yes or no?"
Jack lowered his lips to Gabriel's, kissing slowly, gently.
"Yes."