Blackwatch! Jesse McCree. {Literate OW SRP.}: The smuggling ship sailed softly through the dark black water the Californian gulf, heading to the coast of Mexico in an undercover operative mission of Blackwatch. Lena, being the scoundrel she was, took it upon herself to join this operation, unbeknown to the Strike Commander. She wanted to see how Blackwatch did things. The ashen-white clouds were low to the sea, and the containers and crates atop the ship split the fog in two as it forwarded. The horizon of Mexico was apparent to the Cowboy, as he stood atop the top deck, drawing back the smoke of a cigarette before he flicked it off to the sea. The Cowboy smiled surely to himself before he turned to enter the warm, cozy hull of the ship, though he stopped to think about how he ended up here. Him and Lena. America, and English. Perfect parallels, though they got along better than a house on fire. They'd spend their nights together training; a sparring revolved in the hand of a cowboy, aiming at the Cadette as she zipped around him to test his aim. They'd gotten rather close on their days of travel, though there was one thing missing. One thing Jesse wanted. Lust. McCree clenched his jaw as he seriously plotted his next few steps. A harsh swallow followed the clamp of his cheek, and an exhale pursued the swallow. His head cocked from side to side, left to right, and his eyes shut under the brim of his black hat. He'd faced countless missions under certain death, but he was never truly terrified. Not like this, at least. "Come on, slugger," he hushed to himself, trying to boot up his dominance. Then he took his first step down the stairs of the hull of the ship, a metal creak emitting his boots, the spindles spinning behind his heel. He continued his anxious stride, the alloy beneath him groaning as the ship continued course. He then stood opposite the door to her quarters. His bare knuckles softly touched the closed entrance before him; a gentle knock before he fully committed. His fist tightened, and his paw soon knocked fully. Knock. Knock.
Lena Oxton: The mischievous young woman knew she'd be dead if Commander Morrison found out what she'd done. But none the less, she couldn't help but feel incredibly excited. She was undoubtedly curious about what happened behind closed meeting room doors, only spoken of in hushed whispers, and now she had managed to experience a Blackwatch mission first hand. Even with her excitement, though, Lena was still cautious. Every set of footsteps that passed her door made her anxious, and when she heard knuckles wrapping on her door, the startled young woman nearly jumped. "Hello?" Lena asked, opening the door to peer her head out into the cramped hallway before her dark brown eyes met Jesse's own. "Aw hey, love!" She sighed with relief when she saw him, moving out of the doorway and beckoning him inside. "What's up?"
Blackwatch! Jesse McCree. {Literate OW SRP.}: "Lena," Jesse softly stated as he entered, his features perplexed with anxiousness and excitement. His bright, hazel pools melded with her stare, his even darker pupils almost dilating at her beauty. His complexion widened as he took a step forward, and his stare interlocked with hers of familiar shade to his own. His prominent gaze slithered down from the features of her face, his stare clinging to her lips before he finally landed on the annunciation of her chest; the tight constrictions of her outfit highlighting the roundness of her breasts; the latex constrictions giving her covered bust a light shimmer. He sharply averted his gaze, shying away from his promiscuous scowl, even though he longed for nothing more than to reach out and cusp. He took some careful steps towards her, closing the distance between them inch by inch. He clenched his jaw and took a harsh swallow, his shoulders rolling before the two of them met, toe to toe; a familiar stance these two took. His chest was heaving slowly through his exhaled breaths, her breasts contesting his militant chest plate. A staggering exhale left his chapped lips, and a waft of his minty breath whisked against her cheeks, while the scent of his musky cologne radiated from his neck. "I-" he stuttered, choking over his own thoughts. His eyes searched for something as he tried to speak, a gaze that dotted around the room for a topic to discuss. He caught her eyes again, and came to the realisation that he didn't want to talk. They didn't need to discuss, they'd done that enough. He wanted her. That was undeniable, especially by the look he gave her. He was ready to pounce, right then and there, though he was unsure how to go about it - how she'd react, or if she'd even reciprocate. "Listen, darlin,'" he uttered lowly, his eyes trying to focus on her complexion, though his mind was cursed to drift. "There's...there's something I've wanted to say- No," he corrected himself, another shudder leaving his lips. "Something I've wanted to do. For a long, long time now."
Lena Oxton: She was still for a moment, brown eyes scanning over his large, toned frame, too afraid to meet his wandering gaze though she could feel his eyes on her. Her body started to move at its own accord as Lena sauntered her way over to Jesse, meeting him in the middle of her small, dimly lit room. They met in an all too familiar pose, but this time it felt different... A lot more intimate than it had been before now. A rush of different emotions washed over her as she finally met his dark gaze once again. She could feel a wave of heat flood her entire system and could hear her heart beating in her ears. Their bodies pressed together and Lena took a shaky breath to calm her nerves before she spoke again. "Shh..." She cut him off quickly, reaching out to cup his face with her slightly shaking hands, her elegant, dainty fingers smoothing over his rough cheeks. "Stop talking." With a bit of hesitation in her movements, the young pilot strained on her tiptoes, leaning up to kiss him.
Blackwatch! Jesse McCree. {Literate OW SRP.}: The muscles of his jaw clenched as he watched her saunter over to him, his shoulders heaving through his slow, obtuse breaths. The sound of his swallow could be heard as he tried to adjust himself, but with Lena, he was as weak to her as a bullet between the brow. His chestnut eyebrows lifted and arced as he felt her small fingers card through his stubble; silencing his ramble. That's when he felt her hot, wet, soft lips press to his; a gentle 'pop' sound emitting before she finally peeled back. The Outlaw was stunned for a second, his head leering back to calculate what just happened; one eyebrow raised higher than the other. His hazel hue scurried across her complexion in search for answers, though the look she flashed back at him sealed his suspicions. His shocked demeanour was soon washed over with an expression of pure lust; his lips slanting, eyebrows straight with his lips pursed. Then, with a swift manoeuvre that bolted out in welcome attack, Jesse pounced at her; his calloused palms landing on the thin of her waist outlined by her lithe hips, cradling her with that sweet embrace he promised himself, feeling the constriction of her suit against his gracious grasp. His gloved vice couldn't feel anything, sadly; no warmth, no smoothness under his grasp. That'd all change soon enough. All he could feel was the pressure of her curves arcing into the mould of his alloy cusp. Underlying the passion and lust though, was a strife of roughness, confirmed by her back harshly barging into the closed door behind her. The metal belted on its hinges as he pushed her up against it, pinning her between the metalwork surface and his chiselled structure that was hidden under his armour. "Mfh, fuck," Jesse couldn't help but be loud about it, huffing and puffing as his body moved in sync with hers. The Cowboy slithered his lips to her cheek, pecking at her skin with accurate kisses as he moved downward, moving the layer of fabric under her chin with his teeth. He could feel the tendons of Lena's throat twitch and stretch under his mouth, his romantic attack fiercely barraging her skin. He couldn't hold back anymore. He wanted this, and so did she. With adrenaline just before mission... this was sure to be a rough one.
Lena Oxton: A moment of panic welled up inside her as she watched him, completely still, not reciprocating. Had she misread this entire situation and crossed Jesse's boundries? Suddenly, Lena was yanked out of her thoughts by a pair of skilled hands kneading the soft, ample flesh of her hips. She hardly had time to adjust to the new sensation before she felt her spine collide with the thin wood of the door that she was sure would splinter if they staid like this for much longer. "Fuck..." Lena echoed Jesse's sentimate as she felt a spike of pain shoot up her back which caused her to squirm beneath his powerful frame. "At least warn me the next time you decide to pounce on me like a starving animal, yeah?" She asked breathlessly, feeling his teeth graze over her pulse point. Despite the slight annoyance in her tone, Lena could appriciate the other's forwardness. She'd been starved for affection far too long to complain.
Blackwatch! Jesse McCree. {Literate OW SRP.}: "Can't promise anything," He growled back in a reply to her huff, sharing her guttural grunts and moans. His hips moved against hers; hers gyrating, his grinding - pushing his hardening bulge between her thighs, rubbing up against her to spout wetness; all locked in with her legs tightened around his slim hips. He began to coast a hand across her curves, surfing down her body as if he were on a rail. That was, until he felt it. Her ass. Her beautiful fucking ass. Always locked behind the latex of her suit. His paws spread wide against one cheek, feeling the flesh of her rear sculpt into his hand whilst the latex hiked up his knuckles, the skin of her backside starting to thimble goosebumps against his open paw - squeezing, grasping, fucking /tearing/ at her cheeks as he held her there for support; molesting it as if he owned her. "Mmfh, mmfh... mfhh--" He drawled against her lips, his other hand soaring down her maternal sides before he clutched at her wide hips. "I had dreams of you, darlin'," He growled, huffing against her neck. His hands scurried across her exterior, grasping at her slabs of armour, and throwing it off. Her black underarmour was the only thing left; obstructing his vice, teeth, and tongue. He soon hooked his paws under her zipper and lifted it - revealing her skin inch my inch. Her slim stomach, documented with slight abs, and a subtle glimpse of her ribcage as she breathed in a deep breath. He continued to scroll the black texture up her torso, until the hills of her breasts were apparent to him, and her pink nipples flicked from under the hem. Documented between all of it though, was the chronal accelerator wrapped around her chest; seemingly supporting the weight of her perfect-sized breasts. His kisses usurped down her form, travelling down south across her collar bone until his cheeks pinned against her cleavage, trying to avoid the device as his hungry mouth slurped and sucked on as much breast as he could. "I had dreams of these /fucking/ tits- Yeah, Lena,” he stated through a growl, the sound of her own name mumbling against her skin. "Fuck- yes..." He continued, a dark snarl birthed from pleasure; the tone of his voice, coupled with the tickles of his stubble, all rubbing against her tort nipples, her breasts pushed up against his cheeks as he sucked and licked at them.
Lena Oxton: Her shapely thighs wrapped around his hips for support, keeping him exactly where she needed him. Her hips rocked against his in an erratic, desperate attempt for more friction against her still clothed, slick folds. "Ahh..." The Brit let whined as her ass was groped harshly, squeezed, and toyed with by his strong hands. She straightened up a little to help him take off the thin armor protecting her upper body. It was tossed to the floor along with her bomber jacket, no doubt going to be joined by the rest of their clothing very soon. Her eyes fluttered closed as her head fell back against the door, completely leaving her pale, dainty throat exposed for more of his abuse which she greatly reveled in as his mouth graced her skin with rough bites and sucks. Her hands reached out blindly to grasp his shoulders, gripping tightly to keep herself steady, back arched as he greedily mouthed her small, perky breasts.
Blackwatch! Jesse McCree. {Literate OW SRP.}: His shoulders were surging as he barraged her breasts; slurping at her nipples, using his tongue to twirl around their hardness, her cleavage pushed flush against his cheeks, accentuated like balloons to his jaw. "Yeah-- yeah," He replied hurriedly, sneering with pleasure as he moved to remove his pants, revealing the diagonal muscular lines that pointed to his thick manhood. He finally un-buried his jaw from her chest, leaving her tits with a voluptuous gloss; his saliva accentuating the shape of her roundness, until he pried his tongue from the valley and pushed his forehead to hers, heaving up and down with his abstruse breaths; his chestnut eyebrows opposed to hers of familiar shade; hazel orbs affixed to hers. Jesse didn't speak, as his heavy, flustered and wild breaths did the talking, whilst his dire stare spoke a tale; a narrative in which deemed him unfinished. He hadn't even begun. His fingers finally settled to the band of his boxers, and with a vast flurry of his fingers, he yanked them down his muscular thighs to finally unsheathe his swelling length, the sounds of his belt buckle clicking as his trousers and underwear were now dumped around his ankles. "Yeah-- yeah," he pronounced impatiently, the scent of her posh perfume still torn in his accent, their lips an inch apart. His palms then swam across her toned form, cradling her hips with a cupped palm, his thumbs pressed to her hipbones, his fingertips hooked around her rear and setting against the dimples that documented her tailbone. Suddenly, with a snarl, he flipped her over, swiftly turning Lena around for her back to face him; her spiky prongs of her hair with the change in position, and her breasts pinned to the door, her cheek flush against it. Jesse pinned his tanned and battle-hardened chest to her shoulders, his scarred stomach denting her curved spine. With her leggings hanging around her ankles, he implored this to be perfect position. He soared a palm across her arms, trekking his fingertips across her skin, advancing his paved grab to clench his fist against the back of her head, intertwining her short spiky locks with his dominating grasp. He anchored his head with a tilt, pushing the tip of his lips against her earlobe, his husky and viperous words enchanting her audacity. "Oh, darlin,'" He rasped, his smokey, commanding chant leading his words. "You /need/ this," His words were husky, droning against her flesh in attempt to stand her hairs on end. "Tell me, /Tracer/," He stated, teasing her again - one final time, her earlobe pressed to his mouth. "Tell me how much you want this cock, and I'll give it to you."