Patreon LogoYour support makes Blue Moon possible (Patreon)

Overwatch, Reaper and Windowmaker (Vulgrim x allycat)

(( Yep, that's him. Gabriel Reyes. There's a Legendary Skin for Reaper in-game called "Overwatch Reyes" where it's basically him as you see him in the picture on Winston's desk. After Gerard's murder, Morrison / Soldier 76 became the new leader of Overwatch, but everyone saw Reaper as the unofficial leader. The two butt heads, and Reyes left Overwatch. Nobody knows how he became Reaper, I'm not sure if anybody actually knows he's Reyes, but we do. Though Reaper has some cool lines if you listen to his in-game taunts that gives us a little more insight on his history with other members of Overwatch ( click here )

If you listen to the taunts against Pharah, it's implied that Reaper killed her mother (who's in the far right of the picture on Winston's desk). Maybe we can do something with that? ))

Dr. Angela Ziegler hummed to herself within the confines of her expensive yet cozy lab, staring at something from the other side of an electron microscope. The woman looked as beautiful and as professional as always, her golden hair pulled in to a tight ponytail, though she had blonde bangs framing one side of her face. Pulling away from what she'd been working on, she mumbled something to herself and rubbed her blue eyes, letting out a small yawn. It was late, and she'd been working all day, but Angela's home was the lab, and her work was her life. When she wasn't working, she was using her free time to work again.

That's just how things went for her.

When the doors to her lab hissed open, the doctor let out a sigh. "I told you," she grumbled, "I'm fine, Luc. I don't need a break -- really."

But the voice that called after her wasn't Luc's. It was another Frenchman -- well, Frechwoman, actually. The voice belonged to Amelie. Angela's eyes widened, and she twisted to face the woman with a look of horror on her face. Not fright, exactly. Mercy didn't fear much. But she was shocked, for certain. The woman swore in German, then switched over to English, a language both her and the widow were familiar with.

"Amelie?" Angela asked. Normally, she would've hugged her friend. But now... well, Gerard's body had been found already, and word traveled fast in Overwatch. Mercy knew of it, no doubt. "Amelie, it's -- please, please tell me that it isn't true." She had a pistol hidden somewhere in the lab, but Angela wouldn't kill the other woman. Not if she was guilty, not even if the widow tried to kill her first. The thing was there to protect her patients from Talon -- that was it. And seeing as how she didn't have any patients at the moment...

"You are a sweet girl. I know it isn't true. Please -- please, just tell me, and I can help you."

Back at the carriage-house-turned-secret-lab, Winston wasn't sure how to react to Tracer's advances. The girl had always been full of life and energy, and she'd never been shy about a damned thing before in the past, but... this was different. When she kissed him, he blinked stupidly and just accepted it, unsure of how to answer her back. A part of him thought that this was wrong. They weren't even the same species, even if they were close -- but did that truly matter, at the end of the day? They were both sentient, after all. And Winston had more humanity than most of her own kind did.

Hm...

"Lena?" he asked, still not putting two and two together, even after all of this. When she tugged at his armor, he raised an arm and placed it on her shoulder, gently pushing her away. Winston frowned. "Are you alright?" he asked, sounding uncertain. "Is your chronal accelerator working? Maybe -- here, maybe it needs to be readjusted? Blinking too much can confuse you, maybe you're just tired--..?"
 
Amélie dropped her purse and ran over to the doctor. She paused for a second and then hugged hard. “Mercy. I need your help so badly. Somehow, they’ve put another mind into my head.” She pushed away, holding the doctor’s shoulders. “It’s a dark voice that takes over. I need proof. I need everyone to know it wasn’t me. I need to know myself. I really, really need to know.” She flinched a bit as she found herself checking out the pretty doctor’s face and her lips. The Swedish woman had a certain alluring look that suddenly appealed to Amélie.

The French woman hoped that her gaze didn’t linger in any noticeable way. Was the dark voice inside speaking up again was her biggest fear? Would the voice want to distract the conversation and try to gain control again?

All the worries still didn’t change the fact that something needed to be found out. Her adrenaline was calming. She had gotten to Mercy and now the guilt of what had happened could kick in at any moment. She repressed the site Gérard and what had happened. “You’ve got to help me, Mercy.”

Tracer cocked her head, “I am not disoriented, Winston. Come now. Why would you say that? Sometimes, Winston.” She put her arms akimbo and shook her head. Taking a deep breath, she stepped back and pulled herself up onto a kitchen counter.

“Oh no! Maybe my accelerator is off spec. Maybe you should come closer and take a look. I’m hearing an odd little buzz sound.” She tugged at the harness as if it might explode. “It’s definitely off, Winston.” Her eyes flew open as she looked at him. When he got close, she kissed him again. “You’re so sweet for being so concerned.” Her shoulders jerked about as the large ape tugged and checked. “Are you being serious?” Her body jerked around a bit more. “This feels kind’a kinky though. Wait. Let me help.” She loosened some straps and extracted her arms from her catsuit. She peeled the orange Kevlar down under the harness, revealing a shear bra underneath. “Does that help, Winston?” She really hoped it did. Maybe they needed a white board.

(OOC I'll also look into the mother storyline with Reaper.)
 
Dr. Ziegler noticed the look, but chose not to make a comment on it. The blonde bit her lip and trapped it between two sets of teeth, looking torn between wanting to help a patient -- a friend -- in need, and having to report her to security... to Overwatch. She'd known Amelie for a long time, and she wasn't the type of woman to do something like murder her husband. She'd loved Gerard. So... logic spoke against reason, and Angela figured that she must have needed help.

Why risk everything by coming here, if that was not the case?

"Alright," she said, lifting her gloved hands. Mercy cupped Amelie's cheeks, holding them gently, and she moved in close, pushing a few dark strands of hair from the woman's beautiful eyes. "I'll help. But you must tell me everything, ja[/?" Angela licked her lips, then let go of the other woman's face. Sighing, she stepped past Amelie, her heels clacking off of the lab's floor, and locked the door. Her lab coat came off next, and she took off her glasses, trying desperately to get more comfortable. The room was very hot, all of a sudden...

When she was ready, Angela moved to her desk and sat on top of it, leaned back with both hands along the edge, one shapely leg crossed over the other. She wore a tight blouse that hugged her ample breasts, with a pencil skirt that stopped just above the knees, panty hose running down to her heeled feet. "Where to begin?" she asked, looking quite anxious herself. The woman's blue eyes held on Amelie, and she waited for the other woman to do something -- anything. They needed a place to start, after all...

"I knew it," Winston said, frowning. "I knew something was wrong. Here -- I don't have my equipment, but maybe I can still..." As Tracer faked her device being broken, the large ape pulled and tugged on the thing, trying to look at it from all sides and decipher the problem. To him, everything seemed fine, though, and the stubborn gorilla only jerked the brown-haired beauty around further as he looked for some sort of diagnosis, only to come up short with anything.

"Hm?" Suddenly, she kissed him again, and he blinked. When her suit fell around her shoulders and gathered around her waist, he saw Lena's supple breasts and a blush actually painted his grey face. "Er... Lena," he started, clearing his throat sheepishly. Winston fixed his glasses, then looked up at her. And then it finally clicked. There wasn't anything wrong with her damned harness, but there might have been something wrong with him. "Oh." Another look down at her chest. "Oh..."

Well, now what? Winston hadn't done a thing like this before. Lena was the expert here, for once. The large man swallowed. "Lena, I -- I don't...?" he began to apologize. Looking in to her eyes, he reached and gently peeled the orange-tinted goggles from her face so that he could stare in to them. The scientist tossed them off to the side, placed a hand on the back of her head, then leaned in to gently kiss her, not wanting to be too rough with the smaller woman.

Not yet.
 
“I can’t tell you how relieved I am to hear you take me seriously,” said Amélie. She approached the doctor, stepping to one side of her crossed legs as the blonde sat on the desk. “I don’t know what to do. I felt my soul being pushed to the background, a dark voice seemed to be fighting me, and when I woke, Gérard was dead. I knew my body had done it, but it wasn’t me. You have to believe me. I need someone to be there for me in all this.” She reached out and touched Angela’s shoulders. She looked pleadingly into the good doctor’s blue eyes. And then pulled in for a tight hug. “I need you to perform one of those scans you can do. This is a problem and it needs research and attention—from you, only you. At least at first. I surrender myself to you.”

Her hands slipped in towards the blonde’s neck. Her dark voice silently begged her to choke the Overwatch agent dead, but the fingers stayed relaxed and slid over the delicate skin.

The blonde’s skin felt so soft and smooth and utterly perfect. The neck looked so graceful. But the dark voice continued to rumble in the background. Not liking a missed opportunity, the voice demanded to be heard, but Amélie found safety in guiding the thoughts in a different direction. She forced her thoughts into a more nurturing and loving and passionate urgency. Having a hard crush on someone seemed to leave her in control. Her heart raced with an excitement of a high school girl.

Passion seemed so important at that moment, and if it held back the dark voice, she’d turn on every ounce of seduction she could.

Amélie’s eyes locked onto Angela’s. The Frenchwoman took several deep breaths and saw how the Swedish woman’s eyes seem to search back and forth.

“I didn’t do it,” said Amélie. “I need you.” Her mouth stayed agape, her thoughts focused on the pretty lips, and her face leaned in and ever so gently kissed. “I’ve been traveling all day. Could we just hide out here tonight in your lab? I recall that you stay overnight all the time.” Something pushed Amélie. A feeling increased and beckoned. She found herself checking out the doctor’s body. The woman had such slender hips and wonderful legs. A hand started to stroke the sheer denier tights that stretched over the tops of the bent knees. Amélie looked down at her hand, almost shocked that she was doing this. She looked back up at the blonde. “I’m so alone.” She bit her lower lip, hoping and praying that Angela felt the same way at that moment. “Sometimes, the best answers are inspired by simply taking a step back, away from the problem. Thinking of something else can help so much. I’d like to do that with you.”

“Mmmm, that’s more like it, love,” said Tracer. “I like it when you call me, Lena, by the way. Only you call me that now. Everyone else fell into using Tracer. Even if they hadn’t, you do it so well. You say Lena with that deep voice of yours and the sound rings in my mind that you’re saying it. It’s special.”

Her hands cupped his face, as best as her dainty little palms could. His face seemed huge. His body was massive compared to hers. He made her feel so safe and she wanted to know what it would be like to have his full weight over her body as he held her so tight.

“I’m supposing you want me to lecture you on certain things.” She rolled her eyes and smiled. “If I came with a manual, you’d want me to hand it over right now, wouldn’t you? You know, it’s more romantic if you take charge, but I’ll lay it out step by step. This is important to me.” She pinched his lower lip with her mouth and playfully pulled back, letting it stretch just a bit before letting it snap back.

“Of course, I want you to tell me what you like. I don’t want this to be all one sided. Although, I’m certain I could get away with it.” She giggled as slipped off her bra off. It fell to the floor. Her breasts now pressed against the cold metal back plate of her accelerator. “It hums at low power, you know. It’s like it wants to turn me on.” She closed her eyes and curved her back, exposing her throat. The stratch placed her breasts just above the harness, right into view.

“Kiss me and if you loosen the straps a smidge, maybe you can get kiss my bristols.” She gave a wicked smile. “Sorry, I couldn’t help myself, love—lover.”
 
(( So, the beta dropped today. Been playing as Genji. He's the fucking best. Just saying. ))

When Amelie stepped closer, Angela's first instinct was to step back -- she tried, but didn't get very far, with that desk in the way. So, instead, she watched with somewhat-widened, sapphire-blue eyes, her complexion pale and her brows furrowed slightly. Two dainty hands were placed on her shoulders, and she looked down at them and then back up again at the beautiful widow. And she was beautiful, Dr. Ziegler couldn't help from noticing. Everything about the widow was divine, from her tall, hourglass figure to her full, kissable lips. The Frenchwoman's accent was enough to make her melt.

"Amelie--," she tried, lifting a hand to gently push her back, but before she could, their mouths were touching, and Mercy's eyes widened before gently fluttering shut, and her surprised yelp faded in to a small moan as they kissed. When their embrace ended, Angela's eyes gently opened, and she bit her lip, and as the other woman spoke, she couldn't tear her gaze from the mouth she'd just been kissing, her heart skipping a few beats as she watched those beautiful, pink tiers whisper sweet nothings to her. She was pleading for a night together, and though she knew it was foolish, the doctor didn't care.

She was alone, too.

"Well," Dr. Ziegler said, clearing her throat sheepishly. "We have a diagnosis." The woman's hand crept back behind Amelie's head, and she gripped some of the woman's dark hair, pulling her face in close. "Let me give you my treatment, then..." And with that, she pressed her lips against Amelie's again. Her legs came up and wrapped around the widow's broad hips, pulling the woman in close so that their bodies were touching as they shared some forbidden, heated kiss. Even as they did, Angela's free hand moved up the other woman's flat belly, only stopping after she'd landed on a breast.

"Get this dress off," she purred, looking straight at Amelie with mischievous eyes. "So I can examine you further..."

As Tracer spoke, Winston huffed, looking somewhere between amused, embarrassed and slightly annoyed. "If you came with a manual, this would be a lot simpler," he seemed to agree, though his voice was low and sheepish because of what they were doing. What if someone walked in? One of the soldiers outside, or, worse, Commander Morrison, or... anybody else from Overwatch, for that matter? This would be impossible to explain...

At the teasing, he simply blushed, clearing his throat again. When Tracer stretched back, breasts popping over the front of her harness, Winston's golden eyes widened some, and he looked down at her lovely orbs with extreme interest. Apes were close to humans indeed, because as soon as he saw those 'bristols' of hers, as she'd so eloquently put it, he felt the crotch of his suit get very tight all of a sudden. Letting out an animalistic growl, Winston forgot his grooming and let his primal nature take over.

With a hiss, the man's suit of armor simply came undone, falling to the ground around him. He still had on an orange-and-black bodysuit beneath that, not unlike Tracer's own getup, though the tight material didn't do much to hide the package he was carrying. Tracer would have a hard time trying to fit that thing in any hole, she'd soon realize -- but with a little work, well, anything was possible, right? Winston raised his hand and gripped a tuft of her short, brown hair, keeping the woman still as he leaned in to kiss her. It was a rough thing this time, not at all shy or timid like he had been.

Angling his face downwards, Winston aimed for Lena's tits next, and he took one in hand, then the other in his mouth, trapping a nipple and then some between his lips. The ape sucked firmly in such a way that was sure to send pleasure down Tracer's spine and throughout her body, grazing the rosy bud with his sharp teeth. After a few moments of suckling, he grumbled again then lifted his head, speaking up to give his commands to her. "Help me out of this," he rumbled in a way she likely hadn't seen or heard from him before. The scientist fell back in to one of the tires, nodding towards the crotch of his suit, where something quite large was clearly awaiting her. He'd trap her between the table and his weight later. For now, he needed to get free of the damn thing first.
 
(OOC: I’ve been using a friend’s computer. I only have a Mac. Maybe I’ll try out the latest this weekend.)

Amélie managed to twist herself around in the grip of Angela’s legs. The sheath dress Amélie wore hugged so snuggly, and the long sleeves added a restrictive presence to the shoulders. To zip up, she had used a string and safety pin. “I can’t get out of this without help.” She probably could have flexed her arms, but why? She wiggled her rear against Angela’s body. Underneath she wore the sheerest bra and panties she could find at a store. She had paid cash, trying not to leave any electronic trail.

Thoughts of the stockings, garters, and shoes flashed a reminder of Gérard. She winced while facing away from Angela, while waiting to feel the zipper lower down her neck and further down between her shoulder blades.

She looked over her shoulder at the blonde woman, so beautiful. How had she not felt this lust for the scientist before? It was like she had never loved anyone so deeply, not even Gérard. She suddenly felt guilty. Had she been living a lie? Or was the dark voice taunting and playing with her heart? There was no denying the feelings were so real. “I’ve seen you with Zarya,” she said in a subdued worried voice. “It would break my heart if I wasn’t your type. She does have an impressive figure.”

(OOC: I know you want to do a threesome RP, so if you want to suggest here or elsewhere, I could play two female characters. Maybe they are found out later by that someone else, if you want to suggest. Otherwise, we could cut to a storyline with Mei and McCree out in the desert. I’m certain we can find a tie into the main storyline.)

Tracer gasped as Winston’s lip action suckled her breasts. The sensations forced her to arch her back even more to keep her chest clear of the accelerator. She pushed out her hands to the backslash of the kitchen counter. She had fantasized about her co-worker since they had met. Maybe it was his innocent sincere personality at first that got her interested, but what really turned her on was his deep voice and the stern stare. She loved the serious nature he brought to any conversation. Just asking him, “How are you, love?” seemed to invoke some deep philosophical thoughts that raptured her senses. “Oh, Winston!” she cried. “Now you’re cooking, love. Oh. I’ve dreamt of snogging for so long.”

When he pulled away and dropped the armor, she bit her lower lip. The low hum of her accelerator buzzed against her chest. It all seemed to be going so fast, but this is what she always dreamt of, time—real time—with Winston. She slid off the counter, holding a locked eye contact with him. It might have been unsettling, but she couldn’t help it. As she stood over him, sitting back on a tire, her eyes glanced down and then stayed there as she moved in closer. She hunched down between his legs and slid her hands up the center of his suit, following a long zipper over his chest. Her chronal accelerator pushed out enough to rub against the bulge in his suit.

She pinched the zipper tab, her eyes looking down to the side of her accelerator as she twisted to keep a clear view of the bulge. Was she really going to do this? She had to. She looked up at him. “Hey big boy.” She unzipped a portion open. Once the tab got down to his chest, her fingers slid underneath to peel his arms free. The zipper didn’t go down far enough, so she figured he’d have to get out of the suit with the arms first. She tugged and let him handle the shouldering sleeves, while she unzipped some more.

In her mind she wondered if she could kiss fur. She decided on nibbling. Her teeth gently bit his chest a few times. As the suit slid down his torso, she looked up and gasped. Her heart rate soared as she tugged at his clothing.
 
(( For the threesome, do you mean inside of our Overwatch RP or as a separate RP altogether? I wouldn't be against starting up a second game, you're fun to write with, but I also don't want you to feel obligated / enjoy your other RP partners, too. Feel free to PM me if you'd like to work something out, otherwise we can focus on this for the time being. ))


When Amelie turned, pushing her plump rear up against Angela's front, the doctor groaned quietly, trapping her bottom lip between two rows of teeth again. She shivered with delight and excitement, her hands on the widow's shoulder. As she turned her head to meet the doctor's eyes, Angela focused on what she had to say, smiling some. "Zarya," she laughed, nodding. "Ah-hah. I see. Well, you've nothing to fear, mm?" The doctor leaned in and kissed Amelie on the shoulder, smiling. A second kiss was placed on the Frenchwoman's lips, next. "I care for all of my patients."

With that, she reached in front of herself and took the zipper between two fingers, peeling it down gently. As it came down the length of Amelie's back, she helped the woman wriggle her arms from its long sleeves then let out a warm breath against the back of the other woman's necks. Hands snaked around the woman's front, and she kissed her between the shoulders as she took both breasts in to them, squeezing Amelie's chest gently. "Mm," she mewled, and her fingers slipped beneath the fabric of that shear bra before simply pulling the cups down. The doctor chuckled quietly as her tits bounced free, a smirk pulling at one side of her face.

"Is this helping?" she asked, resting her cheek on Amelie's shoulder again. The woman drew her legs in, pulling the widow's back up against her chest. "Tell me what I can do for you, Amelie. Talk to me, ja?"

As Tracer moved to kneel down before him, he watched her, trying to keep his composure, though it was hard not to be intimidated by all of this. He'd never done a thing like this before, after all -- obviously, his own species never appealed to him. None of them were like how he was, smart, dignified, intelligent. Humans felt more like his own kind than his own kind actually did, but who would love him, an animal?

Well... Lena, apparently.

When she spoke to him, her words a bit naughty though still full of love, cheer, and her usual spunk, a shiver ran down his back, and Winston sighed happily. The suit peeled down his front, and he drew his large, powerful arms from them. Winston had a large and strong upper body -- his biceps were wider than Tracer's head, and when she pressed her accelerator up against his impressive package, he bared his sharp teeth and groaned quietly.

"Lena," he mumbled, almost warningly as she continued unzipping him. He wanted to know she was sure about this, but Tracer didn't answer him. Instead, she nibbled and kissed at the fur on his broad chest, and he huffed through his nose before she pulled down on the final bit of clothing. The ape's cock sprang free as she revealed it, thicker and larger than Lena could probably hope to fit... well, anywhere. Winston blushed deeply and fixed his glasses, clearing his throat in a sheepish way. He sniffed, then locked eyes with Tracer, trying to gauge her reaction.

"We don't have to," he eventually said, worried she might have changed her mind. "I -- I'm... just glad you feel the same way, Lena. And I don't want to hurt you." He seemed to notice that his size might have been an issue, too. And then, of course, there was Winston's tendency to get a little carried away sometimes, due to his primal rage...
 
((So focusing on this storyline sounds good.))

Amélie felt Angela’s intoxicating breath against her back. She slipped her arms out of her sheath dress and then inserted her thumbs under the material to push it down over her hips, but she stopped at the waist and gasped as her bra hooks popped. The straps fell over her smooth shoulders, and the cups pulled free. The kissing on her back made her heart race. She had never been with a woman before but it felt so natural.

Her dark voice insisted that she play her role and adapt to the situation. That worried her. The joy felt so real. But was it? Did she really love Angela? Had her visits to Overwatch always involved suppressing a lustful crush she always had for the woman? Or was the dark voice trying to search for some other useful goal here? The voice had fallen into the background. Maybe it wanted control again.

“Angela,” said Amélie, still clasping the dress at her hips in both hands while feeling the scientist press against her back. The Frenchwoman twisted her neck to kiss at the face pressing a chin on her shoulder. “You’re doing everything I could hope for right now.”

Forcing a torso twist in Angela’s snug hold, Amélie let go of her sheath dress. It held on to the hips as she began to frantically kiss, lunging her lips at the soft skin, nose, eyes, forehead, and back to the lips. She struggled to free her arms from the straps of her bra. Once free, she tossed the garment off to the side, hoping it didn’t land in some distracting spot, like near a burning or some other scientific contraption—“I’ve always wondered about having a moment like this with you. I never thought or dreamed that we, you, me…” She kissed some more as she slid her hands down the lithe arms. In a second, she maneuvered both wrists behind. She briefly trapped the blonde’s arms in the back and pulled hard enough to jet out the woman’s chest.

With one hand clasping an arm to pin-in the other, Amélie freed a hand to slowly caress the neck and slide down over the blouse. She gritted her teeth as she breathed so heavily, taking it all in.

Her dark voice eagerly pointed out so many deadly attacks possible at that moment.

She flinched and let up on the arms, quickly switching to unbuttoning the blouse and pulling its tails free of the tight pencil skirt’s cinching waist. Fervently fighting its hasty removal along with the bra, Amélie freed Angela’s breasts and began to lick the bare flesh with a wide wet tongue. She paused to smile then lowered her head again, pressing her wet tongue on the underside of a breast. Raising her head as she extended her tongue, she held a constant sloppy saliva contact as she move up over a nipple and up towards the neck. She had never done that before. She did it again. Then she pinched a nipple with her lips and pinched hard, keeping her teeth away, but always craving to bite.

The dress at Amélie’s hips slid down her legs and piled onto the floor. She pushed her companion back onto the desk, knocking a stack of journals over. Her closed toe pumps prevented her feet from finding some good traction as she climbed up onto the desktop. She tried to kick the shoes off, but gave up and bestrode the blonde. She held down the shoulders, taking in the view. The skirt hugged the hips so perfectly.

She lowered her bare breasts to meet those of her companion. The cushioned contact made her eyes close. After a second, she glanced to the side. The desk was wide enough for a half roll. In one move, she pulled Angela’s skirt up to her hips, inverting and exposing the satin lining. They rolled together, forcing the blonde into a straddling superior position.

The dark voice objected to tossing away the control.

“Oh, god, Winston. You’re so, so, um, big. You’re huge!” said Tracer, reaching a tiny hand out to hold the shaft, just under the tip. She kissed the apex and looked up with a naughty smile. “I’ve got to know, Winston.” She stood up on her knees that pressed into the outside tread of the tire. With her thumbs, she pulled down her panties. Lifting one knee at a time, she moved her hands further down her long legs, finally freeing herself of the stretchy lace.

Pulling at his shoulders, she lifted her body up, lowered a hand, and guided the tip. The wide round touched her as she slid passed it. She cooed, raised her hips again, and enjoyed another pass. “We’ll get the tip in, love. Just the tip.” Her inner thighs squeezed the shaft, leaving an exposed wide girth aiming at her belly. She gulped, hoping to get even that much inside her. She lifted her torso again, and pressed the tip at her center point.

“Ah!” It slowly pushed inside her. “Oh god!” It slowly pushed even further. She looked up at Winston, elated that she got even that portion inside her. Looking back and forth a few more times, her mouth stayed agape and built up enough courage to grab onto his shoulders and overcome the fear of lowering herself any further. She tried, but she was fully mounted. “Hold me at the waist. I can’t do more.” Her thighs hugged the rest of the length. She shifted her legs to massage him. Her knees slipped and sunk into the inner rim of the tire as her body accidently lowered down a bit more.

“Winston! Pump me! Hurry! It’s too much!”
 
((Sure. Maybe we can just do a threesome scene here? McCree and Mei is next, right? If you don't mind adding someone, maybe we can, otherwise, let's just focus on what we've been doing / have planned. ))

Kiss after kiss after kiss after kiss. She got lost in it all, her heart fluttering. Dammit, this was all so sudden, and she felt so weak, giving in to her like this. But she couldn't help it. Everything felt so... right. When the widow spoke, Angela's blue eyes softened. She watched the woman's lips as they moved, and a red blush painted her face. "Amelie," she murmured softly, though blinked when her hands were pinned behind her back. As soon as her ample chest was jutted out, back arching in a delicious way, the doctor gasped, a bit more surprised this time. "Amelie!" she cooed, chewing on her bottom lip again.

When her arms were released, Angela gripped the table and kept her chest thrust forwards, looking down at Amelie's hands as they worked on her blouse. Just as the last button came undone, she leaned in forwards and gave the woman a brief yet hungry kiss on the lips, licking her own tiers as her bra came unhooked. Dr. Ziegler sat straighter on the table and tossed her blouse and undergarment away, her breasts bouncing softly as they were released from their confines. She had a fuller chest than Amelie did, her skin pale, though her nipples were already hard and a delicious pink. When the widow turned her focus on to them, she trapped her breasts between her biceps and pressed them together, a devious smirk on her face.

"Oh," she groaned, tossing her head back as that wet appendage found its way on to her nipple. "Ja..." The doctor swallowed, her neck craned, and she enjoyed the kiss, but before she knew what was happening, Amelie's lips were at her chest again, and she let out a surprised little gasp when her rosy buds were nipped, placing both hands on the back of the other woman's head and drawing her in to her bosom.

But surprise shortly took her again as she was forced on to her back, and in a moment, Amelie was on top of her, hands on shoulders to make certain that she was pinned. "Ame--mmgnh," the doctor sighed, her words cut short as lips were pressed against her. She loved the feel of their bare chests touching, like cushioned pillows against cushioned pillows. Arms wrapped around Amelie's body, fingers digging in to the flesh of her back so intensely that she was sure to leave markings. Their chests were so tightly pressed together that a sheet of paper couldn't even fit between.

When they rolled, Angela carried their momentum and came out on top. She sat up straight and looked down at her partner with a little grin, pressing a finger to her lips. "Such a naughty, naughty girl," Dr. Ziegler cooed, pushing her digit in to the woman's mouth for her to suckle on. She didn't stop until she was knuckle deep. "I need this. I really, really need this, ja? I haven't had this in... mm, it's been too long. So fuck me," she begged, though her voice was hardly a whisper. Angela started rolling her hips, unbuttoning her skirt. "Fuck me hard, and then we'll see about your consultation fee..."

The woman leaned forwards, going in for another kiss. And just like that, they were kissing. Even as they did, she brought Amelie's hands to her ass and pressed them against the material of her skirt, and she helped the widow in assisting her out of it. Dr. Ziegler moved the dark fabric down her rear and around her knees, and she simply kicked it off after that, dressed in nothing but a thin pair of lacy panties, her stockings, and a pair of high heels now. Their kiss broke, but she chewed on Amelie's bottom lip before pulling away.

"We can't get to the route of the problem if you don't tell me, Amelie," she sighed, sliding off of the desk and leaving the mostly-naked Frenchwoman there. "And I doubt very much that you can tell me, ja? If Talon did this, then I doubt you recall..." And so the doctor was willing to try something very daring. If there was a darker part of Amelie somewhere in there, she had to draw it out. "So if you can't tell me," the doctor continued. She made for a drawer where she kept a lot of her equipment, hips swaying in an exciting way, giving the other woman quite the show.

After fishing something out, she turned to the widow with a pair of handcuffs in hand -- the were complicated looking and seemed to electronically lock rather than require the use of a key. Usually, she kept them handy for restraining wild patients, like she sometimes got, but right now, Angela seemed much more interested in using them on herself. She put her hands behind her back and fastened them to both wrists, and they locked with a satisfying click, leaving the woman helpless, though Dr. Ziegler knew that she wasn't. This was an Overwatch facility, after all, and the doctor had a few tricks up her sleeves, if she needed to use them. "Maybe you can show me." She sank submissively to her knees, looking up at Amelie with baby blues from behind a curtain of beautiful golden hair. "Ja?"

Winston couldn't stop himself from blushing when she commented on his size. "Well, er -- yes, I -- agh," the ape groaned, raising a hand to fix his glasses. When she kissed his tip, he closed his eyes briefly, then looked down at her again, sighing through his nose in anticipation. When Tracer moved to straddle him, he awkwardly put his large hands on her tiny waist, nodding slowly to the woman at what she had to say. "Alright, Lena," he answered her. "But if you hurt yourself, just rewind. OK?"

It gave him a little comfort knowing that Lena could turn back time, if she needed to. If he stretched her out too far or caused her too much pain, at least it wouldn't be permanent. Though, with any luck, he wouldn't be harming her at all. When she lined herself up with him, he grit his sharp teeth and braced himself, groaning quietly as Tracer sank down on him, if only just barely. He listened to the woman complain in that cute, English voice of hers, and though he enjoyed her words, a part of him was worried for her safety. "Lena, are you su--?"

No. No more asking questions, no more worrying too much. She wanted this, and he was going to give it to her. Winston growled slightly, then nodded. He could do this. His hold tightened on her waist, and he pulled Lena on to him -- impaled her, really. Winston could feel her walls push hard against him, trying to expel his invading stick of flesh, but he didn't heed any of the warning signs. The man raised his powerful hips and thrust himself in to her, letting out an animalistic rumble from somewhere deep in his throat at the intense spurt of pleasure.

He bounced Lena on his lap almost violently as she begged for him to pump in to her, and without thinking, Winston rolled them both over in the tire so that he was on top, Lena's knees caught along the tire's edge to keep her from simply falling through. The ape placed his weight on top of her, gripping her by the thighs and spreading her apart as far as he could without hurting the girl to make room. His cock hammered her, though he didn't stop; he was sure that Tracer would turn back time if she really needed to. She was impossible to hurt, after all. And that got Winston thinking -- she was almost impossible to tire, too.

Interesting...
 
Back
Top Bottom