Kinktober Fic Challenge Day 6: Distracted

Overwatch, reaper76, SEP days, fluff, fight-flirting, boys being assholes

I missed my deadline yesterday!  This one is extra-rough by consquence of me just wanting to get something done.  If I can manage it, you might get two out of me today.


Does Gabriel really need to do this much grappling?  Jack can’t remember their sparring involving so much full body contact before. It’s really hard to fight with a man who is putting his hands all over you when it’s all you can do to keep from rocking back against him every time your bodies touch.

Gabriel is just so warm. And firm.  And strong.  He spins Jack around and catches him by the shoulders to go for a headlock, and the long press of him all the way up Jack’s back feels so good that he can’t help it, he just melts against him.  Gabriel has him pinned before he can draw another breath.

Jack moans with pleasure at the weight on top of him, then pushes his face into the mat in embarrassment.  Gabriel snorts.  That feels good, too, a rumble that goes right down through Jack to his cock. He ruts his hips against the ground once before he manages to get himself under control.  “Treatments still got you fucked up?” Gabe asks, shifting to keep Jack’s hips pinned with his own.  Jack has to concentrate with his whole body on not pushing back against him.

He squeezes his eyes shut, grateful Gabriel can’t see his face.  Because no, it’s not just the treatments.  Gabriel is fucking gorgeous, he feels incredible–a fact which Jack is intensely familiar with–and he’s the kind of friend a guy can develop a crush on before he even realizes it.  Jack might take Gabriel’s occasional habit of sharing his bed as an indication he’s interested in more than just friendship, except that in all the weeks this has been going on, he has yet to make a move, or even say anything.  He just holds him till Jack stops feeling like he’s about to crawl out of his skin.

“Yeah,” he says. “The treatments still have me fucked up.”

Gabriel rolls off him and helps him to his feet. “Come on, let’s go again. Enemies won’t care what shit you have going on. You’ve gotta learn how to focus through distractions.”  And the son of a bitch cups a hand to Jack’s face, letting his thumb trail over Jack’s lips before he steps back and falls back into stance.

Jack catches himself before his knees buckle and pretends that the wobble was just him dropping into stance too.

They dance around each other, Gabriel’s grin blinding white and prickish in his dark face.  “You’re red as a peach, princess.”

“Fuck off.”  Jack lunges, scores a graze, retreats.

“Isn’t that your job?” Gabe laughs at him, then fades from the incensed kick Jack launches.  He catches Jack’s heel on the recovery and tugs, reeling Jack in to stumble against him.  Trapping Jack against his chest with an arm around his waist, he tumbles them both, rolling to the floor on top of him again with Jack’s leg pinned up against his chest via one hand behind his knee.  “You’re really off your game today, güero.  Who knew that’s all it took to break your composure?”

Jack bites back a hysterical laugh. So says the man lying between his thighs.  God, Gabe can be such a colossal dick.  No.  Bad thought in this position.  He pushes the back of his head into the mat and breathes, centering himself on the blessedly neutral physical sensation. “Fine,” he says, snapping his eyes open.  “Okay.  This is how you want to play it, <i>pendejo?</i>”  

Amusement flits over Gabe’s face at Jack hurling insults in white-boy Spanish, but he’s not distracted enough to lose his perch when Jack torques his hips to pitch him off.  He just grinds down to drive Jack back into the floor under him.  Undeterred–well, only mildly deterred–Jack grabs his ass with both hands, giving him a wedgie hard enough to make Gabriel yelp and scrabble for balance.

Jack tips Gabe off, rolls clear, kips up and closes in before Gabriel gets a chance to re-orient himself.  An elbow to his back drives him to his knees, a knee to his jaw rattles him, and then Jack swings in behind him with an armlock across his throat, beginning the choke count in his head.

“El perrito tiene un mordisco,” Gabriel rasps, managing to sound smug despite the lack of oxygen.  His hands fumble back to find Jack’s knees and hook behind them.  

Jack locks his legs around Gabe’s waist as he lifts them both with a surge of strength, and bites him on the shoulder.  “I can understand you, asshole,” he says through his teeth.  Then he bites down harder.  It’s going to bruise, and it’s worth every minute of tormented arousal he’ll experience for the next week every time he sees Gabe with his shirt off.

Gabe snarls at the pain and hip-tosses him with a hard snap.  Here’s how bad off Jack is: instead of any of the smart, potentially useful counters he could make to that, he scrabbles frantically at Gabe’s shoulders as he loses his grip on everything but his waist and starts swinging. Gabe squawks in surprise as the awkward shift in their combined gravity brings them down to the floor <i>again</i>.

Then he’s being flipped and rolled by an irate Gabe, whose brutally powerful and <i>dear god incredibly fine</i> thighs lock around Jack’s head and shoulders in a triangle choke.  His hand wraps around the back of Jack’s head and forces his neck down against Gabe’s lower abdomen.  “What the fuck was that, farmboy?” he asks, sounding somewhere between outraged and choking on his own laughter.

There are ways to get out of a triangle choke.  Normally Jack knows several.  But he’s inches away from Gabriel’s groin and it’s, um, not quiescent.  He squirms a little, only to feel Gabe’s hardness grow.

Gabe apparently notices too.  His response is to squeeze harder, pulling Jack down tighter and more immobile against him.  “What, you take almost every cock on the base and now you’re afraid of mine?”

Jack wheezes.  It’s not from lack of air.  These things happen, he tells himself.  Especially when you and your really hot best friend are doing some weird kind of sexy gropey sparring thing and have spent a large part of the last hour within a few inches of each other’s junk.

He reviews that sentence in his head, and the liquid heat he’s been carrying low in his belly for the last two days does a slow barrel roll and comes all the way awake.  He begins tapping frantically at Gabe’s thigh.  “I yield.  I yield, I surrender.”  Oh god, if Gabe doesn’t let him up <i>right now</i> he’s going to die between his thighs and he may not even mind.

Gabe uncoils from around him, rolls up to his knees and then looks at Jack, who just curls in on himself on the floor.  “Well, that was a fucking embarrassment.  You okay?”

Jack nods, pauses, shakes his head.  “I need a really cold shower.”

“Hm.  You sure you’re in any state to manage that by yourself?”

Jack twists around to look at him, because wait, “What?”

“What?” Gabe stares back down at him with a flat blankness that’s
an outright dare to guess what he just meant by that.  One way or
another, this man is going to kill him.

from Tumblr

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