FrozenBound

dialogue:

Genji: "Ohh! Impressive!" Hanzo: "Hm. Naturally."

Genji: "But.. You missed some." Hanzo: "Wh- I did not." Genji: "Yes, you did."

Genji: "See, there's like. A little bit." Hanzo: "What." Genji: "Right here." Hanzo: "Where." Genji: "Riiight-"

[WOOSH]

Kiriko: "-here!"

Hanzo is ten, sitting quietly on a bench, watching as about a dozen kids in Halloween costumes run around the estate grounds. Genji is among them, his vampire cape flapping behind him in the cold night breeze. He sighs, looking down at the bag of sweets in his hands, full to the brim. But none of it is his - it's Genji's.

It's all about Genji these days.

The crunch of heavy feet on gravel has him involuntarily straightening his back. The hand lands on his nape, strong and controlling.

"Get your brother," Sojiro says without looking down at Hanzo. "We're cutting the cake."

He backs off without another word and Hanzo breathes in relief. Sometimes, like now, he misses mother so much it hurts. But he can't show his pain to anyone, doesn't want father to think he's weak. So he collects himself and gets up, calling out for Genji and their friends.

When they stand side by side at their shared birthday table, Hanzo realizes they forgot to write his name on the cake. The family governess has to add a "And Hanzo!" at the end of Happy birthday to you because father calls out Genji's name and claps loudly as if that were the end of the song and there was no one else worth mentioning.

He feels sick, like he might throw up on the cake, so as soon as the singing is over and everyone is busying themselves with candies, he disappears from the crowd and locks himself up in his bedroom. He doesn't come out until the next morning, when everyone - including him - can pretend nothing out of the ordinary happened.

-

Hanzo is twenty-two, blowing cigarette smoke into the night air at the window. He knows that he should sleep, but can't seem to relax. This room feels too big for him, as do the shoes that he's having to fill since father's very recent death. He's been trained for this job all his life, but now that it's here, he doesn't feel prepared.

The door behind him slides open and he doesn't have to look to know that it's Genji. Hanzo continues staring at the cloudless sky until a body presses behind his, one arm going around his middle and the other reaching out until Genji steals the cigarette from his hand.

They smoke in silence for a moment. Genji puts out the butt on the windowsill and he finally glances towards his brother, reprimanding. All Genji does is smirk; he'd done it on purpose, to get Hanzo's attention.

The hand around his waist crawls all the way up to his hair, brushing gently at his temples. He feels as Genji tries to curl it around his fingers, but his hair is too short now, so he just plays adoringly with it.

"It's almost time," Genji says in a whisper. "I got you a present."

Hanzo looks at him again, eyebrows shooting up. Genji has never been most thoughtful... But maybe losing father has made him realize people can just. Be gone someday, out of nowhere. It has certainly made Hanzo painfully aware of that.

"You shouldn't have," he says, but as Genji's hand travels once again to wrap around his, he allows himself to be dragged away from the window and walked back towards the bed.

When he sits at the end of the bed, Genji is quick to once again curl himself around Hanzo's body; one of his legs around his back, the other over his lap, chest glued to Hanzo's side. He holds Genji's waist and watches as he pulls a tiny velvet bag from his pocket. He tugs at Hanzo's free hand until he's holding it out, palm up, so he can dump the contents of the bag in Hanzo's hold.

It's a pair of golden bands that he immediately recognizes as their parents' wedding rings. Hanzo gasps, hand shaking as if the metal could burn him. His stomach feels cold as he stares at the rings and tears threaten to spill from his eyes; he misses mother more than ever, and even though losing father felt like freedom, he misses what he represented in their lives - the figure of authority that Hanzo didn't have to be.

"Hanzo," Genji starts and he forces his eyes to move to his brother's face. "It's you and me now."

This thought, though to Genji it might mean something else, to him is a relief. He has Genji, so what else could Hanzo need? Besides, he is at the head of the family now, and he wants his brother at his side. He will have it his way.

There are tears in Genji's eyes, too, when he adds, "I'm yours if you're mine."

And for the first time since father died, Hanzo allows himself to cry.

He pulls his hand free from Genji's waist and takes the ring, slides it reverently onto the finger that his brother holds out. Cries silently as Genji does the same to him. When they kiss, it tastes like fear, salt and love.

-

Hanzo is twenty-five, hands shaking and covered in blood as he fumbles with Genji's corpse for the wedding ring. His katana rests at his feet, bloodied and sharp.

He did not have things his way.

-

Hanzo is thirty, barging uninvited into the Shimada estate to make an offering to Genji's spirit in the temple. His katana rests on the altar like a trophy. Genji lives in his heart.

-

Hanzo is forty-one, climbing to his feet and crossing his room in Gibraltar in silent strides. The old bag he hides at the back of his wardrobe has a secret compartment, a hole in the lining that he's used for over a decade now to hide a certain box.

When he returns to the bed, heart racing with anxiety, Genji is still blinking awake. But he smiles a sleepy thing and reaches out for Hanzo, who slips back into his arms. Genji spends a good minute laying a plethora of kisses over his face, neck, arms, hands; crushing Hanzo in a passionate hug.

His voice is croaky when he murmurs, "Happy birthday, old man."

Hanzo just chuckles. "Don't worry, you'll get there."

But he's hit with a wave of gratitude - to Mercy, to the gods, to the universe - that he knows Genji will get to 41, too. When for years he spent his and Genji's birthdays wallowing in guilt that his brother never knew 23, 24, 25... All thanks to him.

"We'll be celebrating in the retirement home," Genji jokes and he laughs again. He would have it no other way; having Genji at his side until the end of their lives is his only plan for the future.

Hanzo sits up, then, and Genji follows him with his eyes. Curious eyes, like that week-old baby; gaze that doesn't lose a single move while Hanzo digs out the small box and gently opens it. The shine of gold has dulled some after years of dust and lack of wear. Hanzo surprises himself that he still remembers which is which.

He takes Genji's hand, holds it with the same reverence he had that night, almost two decades ago, in his bedroom in Hanamura. The ring slips easily and fits with perfection onto his finger. It's as if time hasn't passed at all, but it has. So much of it has - and thank the gods for that.

Genji is the one to gasp and freeze in place this time, staring at the ring, at Hanzo's face. Doubtless running over the memories from that night as well. His face doesn't betray a single emotion as he slides Hanzo's ring into place and Hanzo fears that this was a mistake, that maybe some mementos are meant to be just that - objects to remember the past by. Not things to build a present and future with.

But Genji brings his hand to his face and kisses the ring, and sits up to kiss him on the lips, and Hanzo knows they're fine. They're more than fine, they're-

"-yours and you're mine," his lips moving around the words that Genji whispers, and though it's early morning and so much has yet to happen today, this has to be his best birthday by far.

-

It's late.

Well, later than usual for Hanzo, whose sleeping habits haven't been decent since father's death. Sojiro made the clan work look easy, the way he had everything under control at all times. Hanzo is learning that keeping it such takes more hours than a day can suffice.

Though there's got to be a limit, he thinks as he shuts down the computer. Pushes up from the chair, stretches; he's too young to have crackly joints, but alas, more time in the office means less time for training and keeping his health in check.

As he exits the room, he unlocks his phone to a dozen messages from Genji. The last one, from about an hour ago, is a picture of himself in front of a mirror. He has a leg propped up on the wall behind it, off frame, so that Hanzo can see the handle of some... toy that's buried in his ass, while his cock is also in the reflection, and it's hard. The caption reads waitin 4 u.

Hanzo sighs as the picture slowly burns into his brain, where it'll most likely remain forever. He really should pay more attention to his phone, shouldn't he.

Well, he turns on his heels and instead of going to his bedroom, he heads towards Genji's. Better late than never is at the tip of his tongue, but when he knocks and steps inside, he finds his brother fast asleep. He looks adorable, a scatter of sex toys around him on the bed, most likely from when he was digging through them, picking which one to tease Hanzo with. Soft and peaceful, and so very handsome, fully naked still.

Hanzo's cock, which had already been incited by the picture, pulses in his pants at the sight. But it's late, very late, and Genji stayed up waiting for him at least until an hour ago, so there is no excuse to wake him up again.

A bitter flavor coats his tongue as he wonders how awful it would be, or how much Genji would hate him if he sat here and touched himself. Something tells him Genji wouldn't hate him at all – in fact, his promiscuous little brother would probably like to know that even when he isn't trying he can affect Hanzo in such away. And Hanzo wonders if that something isn't just his dick, but he's too tired and too worked up to care.

He locks the door and falls onto Genji's bean bag. From this angle he has a gorgeous view of Genji's hole, still loose from when he had the toy inside, and Hanzo can think back to that picture and imagine that it was his cock stretching Genji to this state. Drool threatens to spill down the corner of his mouth at the thought; he can almost taste Genji from memory alone, so long he has spent licking over every inch of his body.

He feels himself sagging into the seat as he begins to jerk himself, relaxing at last after a long day of work. Sure, he wishes these were Genji's hands, or his mouth or his ass, but the smell and the sight of him will do for now. Little breathy moans escape him and Hanzo bites his lips; he has never really been a loud one, but there's something different in the thrill of having to be quiet. Genji stirs, but doesn't wake, and he sighs.

This bedroom evokes so many memories of time spent here, not as kids, but in this new era of their lives. The one where Hanzo comes to Genji for sex as well as everything else, and vice-versa. Drunk nights and sober nights, angry nights and soft nights, laughter and moans and crying and shouting. They've done it all. And flashes of such moments cross his mind, building on his pleasure, on thoughts of how perfect Genji is and how he wishes the whole world could see it, see Genji, see them.

Hanzo comes with a choked groan, gaze snapping upwards the ceiling, his mouth frozen around the sound that he tries to swallow, but can't manage. He fully melts into the bean bag, throwing his head back and just breathing. He could sleep here, he thinks; he shouldn't, but he could. He feels so relaxed. He can't believe he did something as disgusting as jerking off to Genji when he's asleep and unaware, and somehow it felt so good.

Fuck; he thinks he says that out loud. When he finally shuffles to his feet and starts tucking himself in, his eyes slide over to the bed and-

"Was that good for you?" Genji asks. He's turned onto his back now and his face is still marked from sleep, eyes barely open, but he offers that lewd smile that got them into this mess of a relationship, years ago.

Hanzo freezes in place for a second, caught red-handed, but Genji just laughs. "Come here. I've been waiting for you all night."

He reaches out a hand and Hanzo has no choice but to take it, kneeling onto the mattress and shuffling closer to Genji's body.

"You're wearing too much," Genji complains in murmurs, fingers quick to undo the buttons on Hanzo's waistcoat, then his shirt, shoving it all off his body. Hanzo lets him, always does anyways, but for now his mind is foggy with exhaustion and an orgasm and downright guilt. That is, until Genji takes his chin and pulls him into a kiss.

"You're doing it again," he whispers into Hanzo's mouth and Hanzo knows exactly what he means; Genji always says that he gets too much in his own head sometimes, overthinking even the most inconsequential things. He sighs and almost starts an apology, but Genji kisses him again.

Then it's easy to move onto Genji's body, to awkwardly shove down his pants until they're both fully naked and he fits between Genji's parted legs like he belongs there – which he does. It's easy to kiss down his throat and clavicles, and taste the skin that he'd wished so badly to touch mere minutes ago.

"What took you so long?" His voice is a whine or a moan, or something in-between, as Genji rakes his nails up Hanzo's back.

"Work."

"You work too much," the usual complaint. "That was so sexy, Hanzo..."

Now, that second part is unexpected. He pulls back only enough to find Genji's eyes.

"What was?" He asks, frowning.

"That you were touching yourself right there, at the foot of the bed," he breathes and his hands are suddenly all over Hanzo's shoulders, chest, face. "Were you thinking of me?"

Hanzo's cheeks are burning before Genji is even finished with the question. The things Genji feels comfortable saying are so wild to him. But they can talk to each other like that, when no one's listening.

"Who else could I think about?" He clears his throat, blush deepening as he forces himself to add, "After, um. That picture."

Genji chuckles softly and never in Hanzo's whole life has he seen anyone, anything prettier. "You liked that?"

He just nods, so Genji, something cheeky and proud in his eyes, adds, "Got that toy after the first time we slept together and for weeks I thought you'd never look me in the eye again. It's exactly the same size as you."

Hanzo doesn't know quite how to react to all that information; the memory of their first time and the period afterwards is bittersweet enough. He'd felt so guilty, falling into physical desire for his own brother, that he'd avoided Genji for days, until he couldn't anymore – sure, he could ignore Genji's presence, but it's impossible to run away from his own thoughts and his own feelings, and everything in him ached for his brother.

But to know that Genji procured a dildo that would match his cock, specifically so he could pretend that he had Hanzo when he didn't... He feels dizzy with how fast blood rushes down to his dick, and Hanzo doesn't think much anymore, just pushes one of Genji's knees to the side and slides right into him. He fits right in.

Their gazes still locked, he gets to watch as flames rise in Genji's eyes, as pleasure makes his brows twitch. He smiles, heaving warmly against Hanzo's mouth. "Nothing like the real you, brother," is a whisper and probably the most honest thing Genji has said all night.

Hanzo feels himself losing control of his thoughts; Genji always knows what to say or do to get him to this point. He presses his mouth to Genji's as his hips pull back, only to slam back in. Moans lost in their throats as he refuses to let the kiss end, hitting home with each thrust. Genji's legs wrap around his waist, heels digging into Hanzo's lower back like he wants more.

More?

He pulls back and off Genji, who stares at him in confusion. "On your hands and knees," he says darkly and immediately a grin spreads on Genji's face, who takes no time at all following Hanzo's order. Offering himself like a treat, even reaching back with one hand to pull his cheeks apart. Hanzo grabs his wrist, pressing only hard enough until he hears a moan, then directs Genji's hand to his own cock. "Touch yourself," he tells him and once again Genji obeys, and when Hanzo pushes into him again he grabs a handful of green hair and tugs.

Is that good enough, he wants to ask, but doesn't manage because Genji cries out, probably loud enough to wake up half the house. He groans, too, can't hold it in anymore. Pulling at Genji's hair to the side so he can see how his face twists in pleasure, how he sniffles between moans, how his lips tremble when he begs, "Harder, Hanzo, harder!"

Hanzo would give him the world when he asks like that. He tugs harder at Genji's hair and pushes his hips faster, to begin.

Genji comes first, with all the stimulation, toppling on the bed. Hanzo lets his hips down gently, flips him over; he lays on his back, legs spread wide, mouth hanging open for when Hanzo looms over him and together they jerk him to completion. He tries to aim at Genji's mouth, but it gets all over, and they laugh in breathy chuckles.

He sits back and just breathes for a moment. All things considered, Hanzo thinks himself a very lucky man.

Once he finds some strength in his legs, he gets up and heads to Genji's en suite, returning a moment later with a damp towel to clean up his brother. His eyes flick to the window; outside, the sun is beginning to rise.

"Sorry I kept you up all night," he says as he gently wipes sweat and cum off most crevices of Genji's body. He means it. This is his life, not Genji's; his brother gets to be spared of this awful legacy that was put onto Hanzo's shoulders.

"Do it again whenever," is almost a demand as Genji tugs the towel from Hanzo's hand, tossing it aside and pulling him down to the mattress.