[She drags her nails down what's left of his chest and he pulls his head back to hiss quietly. Good, he wants to say, don't be gentle. He doesn't deserve gentle and pain is familiar to him these days. It's almost more comforting to hurt than it is to suffer nothing at all. But that's a wall he still keeps up, for her sake; he knows what she would think of it.]
You have claws, Dr. Ziegler, [is what comes out instead, the low pitch of his voice teasing but not cruel. There might even be the barest hint of a smile tugging at one corner of his mouth. He kisses her again then, hard and quick, his thumb bearing down on her clit for a few hurried strokes before he's pulling his hands back.
That out of all the parts of him that they had either saved or tossed out (and he's under no illusion that that isn't exactly what they did with the parts of him they didn't want or couldn't use), Overwatch, and by extension, Dr. Ziegler, had salvaged his dick of all things seemed like a bad joke- the worst kind of irony. It had also been a point of contention between them in the past, with her need as a medical professional to treat the whole of him. Of course he hadn't made it easy for her, but in the end she could at least be certain that right now, right here, there was no concern that he wasn't going to be able to perform.
He yanks at the suit around his hips, the armor already uncomfortably tight, and it's a relief when it comes away, joining her clothes on the floor with a clatter. His hands slide up her thighs as he leans back in and tugs her forward in the same motion, pulling her up to the edge of the desk. They're close enough now that his cock rests against the crook of her hip, hard and unquestioningly ready.
Do you want this? It's the unspoken question in his eyes when he looks at her, his fingers pressing hard into the soft skin of her legs. It's her last chance to change her mind. He wouldn't blame her if she did.]
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You have claws, Dr. Ziegler, [is what comes out instead, the low pitch of his voice teasing but not cruel. There might even be the barest hint of a smile tugging at one corner of his mouth. He kisses her again then, hard and quick, his thumb bearing down on her clit for a few hurried strokes before he's pulling his hands back.
That out of all the parts of him that they had either saved or tossed out (and he's under no illusion that that isn't exactly what they did with the parts of him they didn't want or couldn't use), Overwatch, and by extension, Dr. Ziegler, had salvaged his dick of all things seemed like a bad joke- the worst kind of irony. It had also been a point of contention between them in the past, with her need as a medical professional to treat the whole of him. Of course he hadn't made it easy for her, but in the end she could at least be certain that right now, right here, there was no concern that he wasn't going to be able to perform.
He yanks at the suit around his hips, the armor already uncomfortably tight, and it's a relief when it comes away, joining her clothes on the floor with a clatter. His hands slide up her thighs as he leans back in and tugs her forward in the same motion, pulling her up to the edge of the desk. They're close enough now that his cock rests against the crook of her hip, hard and unquestioningly ready.
Do you want this? It's the unspoken question in his eyes when he looks at her, his fingers pressing hard into the soft skin of her legs. It's her last chance to change her mind. He wouldn't blame her if she did.]