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It’s a little after seven in the morning, and you’d been lost in thought for the better half of an hour before dawn first starts to coax a conscious gaze out of you. You’ve always been a daydreamer, but today the sky is breathtaking enough to catch your attention, which surprises even you, albeit in a pleasant way.
There’s a rosy tint on the horizon that you just can’t help but admire as the sun peeks out through a sliver of daybreak, flaxen threads of light filtering through the overcast and glimmering over the frost that litters the ground, as though someone had laid down a pastel sheet of gold. It contrasts beautifully with the clouds, which ripple like a blanket of silver froth, and the snow, which flutters gently, pirouetting through the wind like phantom cherry blossoms. You watch the dance of winter through the window of your living room, the tang of miso wafting through the air. Your breath fogs the glass in front of you, and a smile appears on your lips.
You take a slow sip from the bowl warming your hands, letting out a contented hum at the soft puff of steam that billows against your face. It tastes like comfort, nowhere near reminiscent of the crisp bite of ice creeping up the outside walls. The heat spreads through your body languorously, gradually, and yet somehow all at once, illuminating your core from the inside out. You’d only been away from your apartment for the shorter end of a week, possibly less, but even despite it being your first day back since then, you don’t think you’ve ever felt this at home.
Funny how nostalgia works.
You jump only slightly when you’re embraced from behind, as the slow approach of footsteps had been exceedingly quiet, yet there nonetheless, acknowledged at most as a lingering waltz in the shallows of your subconscious. Hanzo could've very easily snuck up on you for real, but even walking normally as he was when he’d approached you, he'd been silent, too silent, and it’s enough to make you feel as though he's never quite tangible until he allows himself to be.
But this time it’s undeniable, bittersweet, even, how overwhelmingly present he is as his hands find the edges of your hips, his chest pressing warm into your back. He’s so close now, so genuine, and your heart swells at the realization that his touch holds none of the uncertainty that you’ve ended up growing accustomed to. He still struggles with intimacy, and has for as long as you’ve known him, but this time the contact is definite. This time his closeness fills you with affection rather than commiseration.
“Hi,” you say, dazedly, a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth, and it isn’t long before you feel him murmur a greeting in reply, angling his lips against the nape of your neck. You shiver as his breath ghosts your skin, his arms strong and firm around your waist, and it entices you into giving a gentle sigh, your body tipping marginally towards his frame.
“How long have you been back?” His voice flows smoothly through his chest, rich and warm, and your pulse flutters lightly in response.
“Since this morning,” you answer with a smile, carefully setting your now empty bowl aside. “It was early. I didn’t want to wake you.”
Hanzo hums in acknowledgement but says nothing more, instead letting his mouth trail up the back of your neck, his kisses soft like silk against your skin. His thumbs trace small, soothing circles over the stitches of your shirt and you’re utterly at ease, swathed in comfort, submerged in the tenderness of his embrace. The steady rise and fall of his chest lulls you into a haze, a sensation all too familiar, and it’s really no surprise that your frame, slotted flush against his own, just about slackens in his arms.
If he were pressed any closer, you’d swear that you could feel his heartbeat.
“I have missed you,” Hanzo whispers, his lips grazing the shell of your ear as he speaks, his tone coming out smooth, sensual, seductive. It’s enough to force a hitch in the rhythm of your breath when you feel his fingertips toy with the hem of your shirt, and you can’t help but shudder and sigh then as want blends into need, your skin prickling under the foamy rush of warmth that’s quick to flood through your veins.
God, you’d missed him too.
You turn to meet his gaze and smile only slightly as you watch him almost look away, more out of hard-burned habit over anything else. His mouth twitches, like he's not really sure how to react to your amusement, but you kiss him the instant you feel his fingers lace against the small of your back, soft at first, yet impatient as you let the blanket around your shoulders fall flatly to the floor.
You cup his jaw and stroke over his cheek with a gentle thumb as he takes a small step forward, drawing you in deeper, not quite desperate, but close enough to it that your heart starts to pound with the desire on his breath. Your core throbs and you feel a whimper bubble up the back of your throat as Hanzo’s teeth tug at your bottom lip, and by that point it’s all passion and heat as he tips your chin up and drinks you in like he’s never been anything but parched.
You hate it when you’re forced to break for air.
“Let me touch you…”
The warm press of his lips has begun to leave you slightly dizzy, and your body is all but buzzing with expectation, but you still have to fight the urge to sass him, if only a little. You already are touching me, you think with a smirk, noting the position of his hands as they sit meaningfully against your sides. You know what he’d really meant by it, and the temptation to comply is strong and selfish, but instead you take the opportunity to lean towards him, pushing your hips into his and feeling him hard and wanting against you. He stifles a moan as the friction shoots through him and you swear to god, you’d take him then and there if you were lacking in the smallest amount of self-restraint.
“Later,” you manage, careful to keep your voice stable as you make a show of dropping to your knees, nuzzling distinctly at the bulge in his sweatpants. Hanzo flushes hot at the implication, and you have to smile just a bit when you feel his fingers thread through your hair, unsteady, yet far from hesitant, even despite the fluster that’s quickly claiming his attempt at confidence.
His chest swells with anticipation as you take your time lifting the hem of his shirt, inch by inch, tracing and teasing along the seam of his waistband, and he shudders at the feel of your breath on his skin, warm, sweeping, enticing. You press a kiss to the thin line of hair trailing down from his navel, and a groan catches in his throat.
It’s then that you’re struck with the urge to look up and meet his gaze, and when you do, you find that it’s so incredibly easy to see the liquid lust behind his eyes, coursing through him like a dream as he silently begs, awaiting the heat of your touch, your lips, your tongue, caressing him in all the places that he’s been undeniably aching for you. You smirk as his face turns crimson under your heavy-lidded stare, knowing full well that he won’t be able to hold his composure when you’re being this bold, this greedy. This fucking aroused.
“Please,” Hanzo whispers, almost delicately, like he’s afraid to openly ask for more, though you can tell how eager he is regardless. You dwell on the endearing nature of his bashfulness as you loop your thumbs around the elastic of his sweatpants, stripping away the soft layer of fabric only to find him bare and throbbing underneath. You chuckle lightly and feel him stiffen as your breath grazes the underside of his length, and when your tongue flicks out next to tease up from the base, it has him shuddering and tightening his fingers in your hair.
His grip anchors you and your every stroke is deliberate, licking slowly and smoothly until you catch him biting his lip with a quick glance up. You’re already wet between the thighs, but the way that he moans as you open your mouth and take him deeper is enough to have you damn near dripping in response, sending heat flooding down your spine and pooling in your core.
The sensation is thick and sweet, like honey in your veins, feeling him sigh and knowing exactly what you do to him, knowing that he loves and possibly hates how easily he falls smitten under your every deliberation. The steadiness of your gaze, the plush warmth of your lips, the not-so-subtle shift of your hips as you press your legs together and all but dare him to keep from touching you. He truly can’t remember the last time he’s wanted you this badly.
Hanzo curses under his breath and you take it as encouragement, humming softly as you roll your tongue over the head of his length. He tugs at your hair as if to pull you away, and you promptly push back, hollowing out your cheeks and reveling in the way he bucks against you. You swallow him down to the base, sucking hard until he gasps and tugs again, and this time you reluctantly let him drag you off.
Saliva catches on your bottom lip, glistening against the pink of your flesh, and Hanzo can’t help but dip down to kiss it away, capturing your mouth hotly with his, as though granting himself a divine indulgence, before letting you guide him to the couch set against a nearby wall. It’s only a few steps away, and his feet follow smoothly after yours despite the mess he’s making of your lips, nipping firmly, but also somehow tenderly. Your leg dangles off the low edge of the seat cushions, and Hanzo drapes over you entirely, pressing his knee right up against the junction of your thighs and groaning at the feel of how wet you are, slick heat soaking through the fabric of his sweatpants.
You’re not wearing anything under the oversized tee you’d thrown on earlier in the morning, and that makes the friction of it all the more satisfying as you grind against him, rutting your hips as high up the flex of his leg as you can given the angle that he has you pinned down at. You gasp as his mouth moves to your neck, tongue laving, teeth grazing the skin just below your jaw, and when he reaches down to stroke over your slit, you make good on your promise and let him, though you’re eager enough to wish he would forgo your usual preparation in favor of just fucking you over the arm of the couch.
But he purrs louder than you do when he slips a finger into you, feeling your entrance clench hot and tight around him, and so you decide to simply knot a hand in the fall of his hair and savor it, even if the slight tremor in his breath only serves to make you want him more.
You don’t expect him to find such a perfect angle so quickly, but he’s there before you know it and you’re struggling to hold back a gasp as he tilts into you, his thumb on your clit now, mercilessly, working it back and forth until the heat in your core starts to spread, throbbing like flame-tipped liquor all the way down in the furl of your toes. You arch into him as he slides his opposite hand under your shirt, pushing the hem of it up and over the swell of your breasts, and from there you manage to shimmy your way out of the sleeves before tugging the garment over your head and tossing it aside altogether.
You press yourself against him once more, and he sighs at the contact, his fingertips all but twitching with desire as he runs his palm along the smooth curve of your chest, warm and bare and borderline irresistible. He rocks forward on instinct, catching a shudder between his teeth, and you lift your hips to meet him halfway, laughing breathlessly when the tip of his length brushes your inner thigh and leaves a smear of arousal on your skin.
At that, he withdraws his fingers, and you’re able to see just how flushed he is when he lifts his head to lick them over, cheeks dusted red, eyes darkened somehow even beyond the deep edge of sable that you’ve so often found yourself lost in. His lips find a whisper in the shape of your name, his voice thick with lust, and though it’s a bit ragged in the back of his throat, you can’t help but agree with the sentiment. You’re nearly dying to have him, all of him, and he knows it, so it’s only fair that he doesn’t object when you pull him back down to kiss into his mouth, bucking against his hips until you feel the head of his length catch on the margins of your entrance. Then, you push, and oh. The slide is luxuriously easy.
Hanzo stutters out a groan at the sudden jolt of pleasure, silky heat enveloping him like the firestorm roaring in his blood, and it’s enough to start chipping away at the air of lucidity that he’d tried so hard to maintain, but your shudder isn’t lost on him, even muffled as it is by the slow sweep of your tongue. You’re doing your best to work over the still of his hips, sweat beading down your spine as you rock up and onto his shaft, but you can’t exactly grind smooth given the way that you’re slanted between his body and the couch, having salvaged only a lamentable amount of leverage. Regardless, the friction is enough to set a hitch in your breath, puffing softly, warmly, little grunts of exertion fluttering past your lips with every half-managed thrust, and that’s what finally sets Hanzo into motion.
His strokes are shallow at first, but it doesn’t take long for him to start pressing deeper, leaning in, hands firm at your waist as he kisses you through all your shaky, blissful moans. Your arms tremble just a bit as you reach up to lace your fingers around the nape of his neck, trailing the tips of them lightly through the inky stream of hair that falls over his shoulders. He shifts under your touch, pulling you closer, and it’s intimate above all, the way that his warmth lingers under your skin, like the soft brush of rain, pooling, rippling leisurely through your chest. Your heart swells with sugar-sweet sentiment.
Hanzo’s just a touch off balance due to the size of the couch, his knee wedged awkwardly between the backrest and the seat cushions, but he rolls his hips slowly, carefully, as though he’s afraid that the moment will fade if he moves too much, too fast. Unsurprisingly, you’re impatient, dissatisfied with the agonizing pace that he’s set, and so you let out a breathy whine, hoping to spur him on, to put an end to his teasing, even when you know that it’s the unintentional kind that sometimes just happens when he’s especially focused. He hums softly against your lips, recognizing your complaint, and pushes a little bit harder, but his thrusts remain mostly measured, which is almost a disappointment, at first.
Then, he’s slotting a hand down, down between your legs, working over your clit with those nimble, precise fingers of his, and you’re gasping, chasing the chill that races down your spine as you quiver and arch against his chest. Hanzo’s breath is strained, as though he can actually feel your pulse spike through the firm press of your fingertips, but he finds enough stability to nibble wetly along the shell of your ear, and just like that, your orgasm flares up out of nowhere, hyperstimulation blossoming into sparks of molten pleasure, throbbing like embers in the pit of your stomach.
Hanzo holds your hips steady as you jolt and writhe against him, and you can’t stop yourself from outright whimpering when an impressively potent shudder washes over you, careening down the curve of your spine like an ephemeral jet stream. It’s followed by a fierce wave of heat, cresting so high that you think you might drown in the swelter that fills your core, and you don’t even realize how much you’re being kissed until the last of your climax starts to brim over into a sated sigh, which is promptly swallowed up by Hanzo’s hungry lips.
He makes you come a second time before he finally brings himself to completion, spilling warm and slick inside you. His face contorts with bliss, a groan soft on his tongue, but he’s still conscious enough to wrap his arms around you when you nuzzle against his neck, trailing light, velvety kisses down into the hollow of his throat. He chuckles as you wearily return the embrace, and there’s a moment of awkwardness when you realize that you’re going to be dripping one hell of a mess onto the couch once he pulls away.
His solution is to stay right where he is, at least for a while, and honestly? You can’t say you mind that one bit.