January 2025 Drabble #1

Reaper/? – Reaper wakes in the middle of getting dicked wonderfully deep. He's so disoriented he has no idea what is real and what is fiction.

Part 1 (This Part)

Part 2 (Patreon Link)

---

Reaper stares up at the ceiling. He sees laboratory lights. No. The lights of their bedroom. No, that was ages ago. A figure leans over him. Against the light behind, he can’t make out any discernible features. They say something and their voice is just a deep, garbled rumble in his ears.

Laboratory. He’s getting checked over. Or readjusted. He doesn’t know, they never tell him. His eyelids grow so, so heavy as the sedatives start taking effect. The person leaning over him reaches out and pets across his cheek. That’s odd.

The bedroom after all? Jack? That’s right, Overwatch is no more… and so is Talon… it’s just them these days. Or… or is it? He can’t think straight. Sleep is taking a hold of him and pulling him under deep.

When he opens his lids again, they feel heavy as stone. He tries to blink them open properly but they won’t quite listen to him. It feels like he only blinked, but with how heavy and unresponsive his whole body is, he must have slept.

He feels how his thighs are spread around hips. He feels the slow, delicious drag of a fat cock into his body. Before Reaper can even properly open his eyes, he already moans.

“There you go,” a low voice croons. “Knew you were a slut. My little pillow princess. Love getting your hole stretched in your sleep, don’t you?”

Reaper exhales. The anesthesia… the… the sleep… it’s still crawling like syrup through his veins. He can’t wrap his head around what’s happening; past and present whirling together into an amalgamation that leaves him disoriented and oversensitive. He’s so aware of his hole wrapped around his lover’s cock; how puffy it feels. How long has the other been fucking him already? Has he gently rearranged Reaper’s unresisting, fever hot body and just leisurely taken his time to finger him open nice and wide?

Reaper manages just about to stare down his own body; watching how his swollen pecs jiggle as he’s getting jostled with each thrust. How his own cock is swollen and hard, lying against his belly. He tries to blink his eyes open wider but the sleep is still clinging to his every move, making his limbs heavy like stone. He tries to reach for his lover but he doesn’t even manage to turn his wrists so he can grip the sheets below him.

Is he… lying on a bed after all? Not an examination chair that a doctor has used to slip between his thighs and use him?

The cock inside him feels so deliciously big. Pressing into his swollen walls and pushing low, appreciative groans out of him. His lover leans over him, deep voice crooning sweet nothings at Reaper.

“Taking me so well… think you can come like this? Half asleep? Maybe I can fuck you back into it.”

Reaper thinks… he could.