[And Zenyatta knows it is pure self-indulgence, to feel himself all but purring when he knows their trust should transcend shallow physical attraction, but he is, and that hand on his thigh is no great aid in the matter. He answers without thinking, voice almost distant and wondering.]
I have always thought you beautiful. Surely I must have told you...
[It is difficult to be sure. So much passes unspoken between them that perhaps he has simply taken it for granted that Genji would know.
Their brows are touching, yes, but all of a sudden it is simply not enough. Already the thick length of his tail is winding its way around Genji's waist, curling intimately against his lower belly so that the tip licks delicate strokes across the skin-mesh there. If he pulled just a little more, Zenyatta thinks, if Genji submitted to that gentle pressure, he could ease him into his lap or perhaps...]
[ genji, ever the minx that he is, chuckles when zenyatta wonders if he had ever told him. ]
I know you appreciate the human form, master, but your eyes have lingered on me far longer than normal.
[ or at least, he imagines they have, and so he's confident in his deductions. genji hardly needs the urging of zenyatta's tail around his waist. once he is sure that the monk will not rebuff his affections out of some misplaced chastity, he moves forward to sit in zenyatta's lap, legs on either side of his hips as he slides his hands up, one along the metal of his shoulder to cup his 'cheek', the other over the top of that fabric that sits between the two of them. ]
[The surprise in Zenyatta's voice makes it sound like a minor revelation, as if beneath the gentle modulations his body does not burn with unashamed need with it- with the thought that he has not only been looking, but that Genji has caught his gaze and thrown it back to him with a vengeance.
Genji moves with all the liquid grace expected of a shinobi, even encumbered by his own heat, and it is suddenly the most natural thing in the world to insinuate their bodies together.
Zenyatta falters. Centres himself, reaches into the peace within for guidance- and finds it.]
I had not realised how long I have been waiting for this...
[Breathless. How is it that, without lungs, he can sound breathless? But he does, and husky, too, as the hesitation bleeds away from his movements into adoring urgency instead. Once his student has settled into position astride him Zenyatta follows with his hands, covering one hand above with the first, and below... below, the second curves his fingers around Genji's and guides them to the waistband of his trousers, his sash, his belt.
The third and fourth hands may come as a surprise. But it feels so wonderfully right to place them on Genji's hip and chest even so, in search of every patch of warm skin and sensitive mesh their hardlight fingers can reach.]
[ genji has, at his core, been someone who enjoys flirting, even with friends. it is something he muted during his time of recovery, but here, it has come out in full force.
and yet he cannot deny it is different with zenyatta. he had wondered, back home - but his sparrow's heart was taken with another, and so he never explored the idea. here, there are no such restrictions. it's easy to fall back into old habits - habits that are sure to leave someone with a broken heart at some point.
he leans his head against zenyatta's forehead, feeling the warm thrum of metal against his skin, eyes falling closed. he can feel the sensation of the third and fourth hands, hardlight against skin, and it makes him suck in a soft breath, a murmur of zenyatta's name.
at this point, the need is becoming overriding, and the hand that's guided to his sash moves to tug it off, away - to get to those parts of his master he has not had a chance to thoroughly observe, sliding his hand between fabric and metal to see what he can find, opening his eyes. ]
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no subject
I have always thought you beautiful. Surely I must have told you...
[It is difficult to be sure. So much passes unspoken between them that perhaps he has simply taken it for granted that Genji would know.
Their brows are touching, yes, but all of a sudden it is simply not enough. Already the thick length of his tail is winding its way around Genji's waist, curling intimately against his lower belly so that the tip licks delicate strokes across the skin-mesh there. If he pulled just a little more, Zenyatta thinks, if Genji submitted to that gentle pressure, he could ease him into his lap or perhaps...]
no subject
I know you appreciate the human form, master, but your eyes have lingered on me far longer than normal.
[ or at least, he imagines they have, and so he's confident in his deductions. genji hardly needs the urging of zenyatta's tail around his waist. once he is sure that the monk will not rebuff his affections out of some misplaced chastity, he moves forward to sit in zenyatta's lap, legs on either side of his hips as he slides his hands up, one along the metal of his shoulder to cup his 'cheek', the other over the top of that fabric that sits between the two of them. ]
no subject
[The surprise in Zenyatta's voice makes it sound like a minor revelation, as if beneath the gentle modulations his body does not burn with unashamed need with it- with the thought that he has not only been looking, but that Genji has caught his gaze and thrown it back to him with a vengeance.
Genji moves with all the liquid grace expected of a shinobi, even encumbered by his own heat, and it is suddenly the most natural thing in the world to insinuate their bodies together.
Zenyatta falters. Centres himself, reaches into the peace within for guidance- and finds it.]
I had not realised how long I have been waiting for this...
[Breathless. How is it that, without lungs, he can sound breathless? But he does, and husky, too, as the hesitation bleeds away from his movements into adoring urgency instead. Once his student has settled into position astride him Zenyatta follows with his hands, covering one hand above with the first, and below... below, the second curves his fingers around Genji's and guides them to the waistband of his trousers, his sash, his belt.
The third and fourth hands may come as a surprise. But it feels so wonderfully right to place them on Genji's hip and chest even so, in search of every patch of warm skin and sensitive mesh their hardlight fingers can reach.]
necrotaggo
and yet he cannot deny it is different with zenyatta. he had wondered, back home - but his sparrow's heart was taken with another, and so he never explored the idea. here, there are no such restrictions. it's easy to fall back into old habits - habits that are sure to leave someone with a broken heart at some point.
he leans his head against zenyatta's forehead, feeling the warm thrum of metal against his skin, eyes falling closed. he can feel the sensation of the third and fourth hands, hardlight against skin, and it makes him suck in a soft breath, a murmur of zenyatta's name.
at this point, the need is becoming overriding, and the hand that's guided to his sash moves to tug it off, away - to get to those parts of his master he has not had a chance to thoroughly observe, sliding his hand between fabric and metal to see what he can find, opening his eyes. ]