#mcsombrashe

It continues with a trick.

“The payload is going to be dropped here,” Sombra says, drawing an imaginary circle around a blueprint on the holoscreen. Ashe’s eyes dart over the schematics, a cute little concentrated frown on her face that Sombra almost kisses off it.

“And the guards…”

“Rotation every four hours. Patrols repeat roughly every twenty to thirty minutes, depending how fast they do it. They should be gone by the time you get there.” Sombra flicks the screen off; Ashe lets out a noise of protest.

“I wasn’t finished.”

“I’ll send them to you later,” Sombra says. She crawls into Ashe’s lap, thick thighs bracketing her hips. Sombra spider-walks her gloved fingers up Ashe’s chest, tap-tap-tapping her nails against the buttons of her blouse. She loosens Ashe’s tie with a sultry grin, slipping it from beneath her collar and tossing it over the back of the couch. “There are far more interesting things for us to be doing.”

And there it is, Ashe’s smarmy little smirk, a quirk at one corner of her red, red lips. Sombra loves that shade of lipstick. “If you say ‘like each other,’ I’m gonna strangle you.”

“Then I won’t say it.” Sombra wraps her arms around Ashe’s shoulders, linking her hands behind her neck. She leans in and Ashe meets her halfway, lips already parted and tongue poking out between them.

Sombra groans. All that planning, all that waiting, had been worth it.

Phase two: complete. Now to reap the rewards.

It ends with action. Phase three goes off without a hitch.

She gets into position, perching atop a pile of empty crates in the abandoned warehouse. Sombra lets her legs dangle over the side of one of the larger ones. She checks the time. 8:08. Everything should be in order: the guards are on their regular patrols, she’s given both McCree and Ashe the same schedule… and conveniently made sure they were also given the wrong location.

It’s taken months to set this up properly, but it had been shockingly easy. All Sombra had to do was dangle the carrot of a Los Muertos weapon drop-off, tell McCree Talon planned to steal it, and hope Ashe would show up to steal it instead. It doesn’t matter that said drop-off is happening on the other side of the complex; all that matters is that her little playthings fall into her toybox.

8:11. Any minute now…

Beep-beep-beep-beep!

Ah. There it is: the sound of a code being punched in on the other side of the door. Now the only question is: who will it be?

Sombra doesn’t have to wait long for an answer. A second later, the door opens to reveal none other than Jesse McCree in all his cowboy-costumed glory. He enters, checking over his shoulder, and then freezes.

“What in the…”

“There you are, Jesse,” Sombra coos. McCree’s expression shifts, moving from scowl to slow, steady realization. Sombra can’t help but grin.

He draws his gun on her. “You…”

She raises her hands. “Oh, no, Jesse McCree is pointing a gun at me,” Sombra drawls, eyes rolling toward the ceiling. She laughs and lowers her hands, crossing them over her bent knee. “Don’t shoot. You’ll upset our guest.”

“Guest?” McCree narrows his eyes at her, but he doesn’t have to wait long to find out what she means: the door opens behind him, heralded by a second series of rhythmic beeps.

And oh, the look on Ashe’s face when she sees the two of them together is priceless.

“McCree?!” she shouts, looking wildly from him to Sombra and back again.

“What the hell is she doing here?” McCree demands. He can’t seem to decide where to point his gun – Sombra or Ashe – and it’s delicious. Sombra laughs again, loud and amused and probably all kinds of obnoxious.

“Oh, this is just too much. Calm down, you two.” She snickers, sliding off the crates and landing on her tiptoes. She saunters over to the two of them, hips swaying, and flicks McCree’s nose as she passes, before coming to a stop between the two of them.

“Sombra…” Ashe starts, low and dangerous as Sombra lays a hand on her left shoulder. “I think you’d best start explainin’ what’s goin’ on here.”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Sombra laughs. She puts a hand on McCree’s right shoulder, mirroring the one on Ashe’s, and pulls them both toward her. They go far more easily than they should, considering how on edge they both are. “I set you up.”

“So Talon is—”

“So my weapons are—”

“Let’s not talk about that.” Sombra pulls them even closer; then, at the last second, slips out from between them and pushes them together. Ashe makes an inhuman squawking sound, and McCree sounds as if he’s just swallowed his cigar. “Instead, let’s talk about us.”

Sombra moves around behind Ashe, fingers tracing over her arms as she rests her chin on her shoulder. Her lips just barely brush the shell of Ashe’s ear. “Elizabeth, I’d like you to meet Jesse, my other lover.”

There’s no mistaking the tension in every muscle of Ashe’s body at the revelation. Sombra has always been open about her relationship status – namely, that she’s ‘uncommitted,’ but has two lovers. Ashe has known all along she was one of them, but Sombra had never mentioned who the other person was. She hadn’t needed to, really, and so she hadn’t told McCree, either. Not until now, months after Sombra had decided she wanted them both, together, at the same time.

Fewer headaches that way, she reasons.

McCree looks just as shocked as Ashe feels. It’s a pity Sombra can’t see both their faces, but she can imagine the disdain – or maybe outright hatred – on Ashe’s face well enough.

“All this time…” McCree lowers his head, shaking it back and forth slowly. “All this time it was her.”

“Yup.” Sombra pops the ‘p.’

And then McCree laughs. Deep, loud, raucous laughter, booming from his chest. Ashe backs up, perhaps startled by the noise, and Sombra keeps her from stumbling with an arm around her waist and one still on her shoulder.

“What the hell are you laughin’ at?!” Ashe demands. She practically snarls at him, her nose wrinkled and lips pulled back.

“I just – I shoulda known!” McCree says, between bouts of laughter. “All the deadlock intel, the way she talks about her thing for southern accents…” He sweeps the hat off his head and wipes his brow with the back of his wrist. McCree holsters his gun, then takes a step back.

“Okay, I’ll bite,” he says at last, laughter dying down. “What did you bring us here for, Sombra?”

“Again, that should be obvious.” Sombra pulls away from Ashe, hands lingering as she moves towards McCree. Once she’s face-to-face with him, Sombra wraps her arms around his neck and leans up, as if she’s about to kiss him. “You two have history, and I’m horny. I thought it would be fun to have you both at once.” She edges in, ever-closer, and now her lips do brush McCree’s as he leans down to meet her, hanging off her every word just as she hangs off his neck. “Don’t tell me there’s no lingering feelings there, vaquero. I know you better than that.”

She seals the accusation with a kiss, pressing her lips softly against McCree’s. The moment she does, it’s as if all the tension in him is released, and he presses forward, laying his big, strong hands on the small of her back. Sombra parts her lips for him; McCree meets the invitation with an eager tongue, exploring Sombra’s mouth with it just as eagerly as he had the first time they’d kissed.

Sombra opens her eyes. She catches Ashe in the periphery of her gaze, shifting her weight from one foot to the other and crossing her arms over her chest.

But she doesn’t look… mad. No; she looks intrigued.

Just what Sombra wants.

Sombra presses herself closer to McCree, a hand curling in the hair at the nape of his neck as one of his hands drifts over the swell of her ass. She moans, purposely loud, and watches Ashe for a reaction.

The one she gets is delicious: Ashe turns away, breaking her previously intent gaze, her cheeks going so red so fast it’s almost as if someone has shone a spotlight on them. It’s adorable, and perfect, and Sombra wants more.

She breaks off from McCree, a wet gasp escaping him as he stumbles back, shocked by the sudden departure of Sombra’s body against his. He watches her go, though, eyes fixed on the exaggerated swish of her hips.

“Aw, is my little firecracker jealous?” Sombra teases, reaching for Ashe and taking her chin in her hand.

“Please.” Ashe’s tone is flat, dismissive, defiant; but she can’t hide the furious blush spreading all the way to her ears.

“It’s okay, you can admit it.” Sombra leans in, drags her lips up Ashe’s jaw until she can tug her earlobe between her teeth. “I know you never really got over him leaving. Why not show him what he’s missed out on all these years?”

Posed like a suggestion, like an opportunity to get one over on McCree, it sounds like the exact sort of proposition that Ashe will accept – and she does, a wry smirk curling the corner of her lip all the confirmation Sombra needs to know she’s sealed the deal.

“I like the sound of that,” she says.

“Yeah?” Sombra laughs, pulling back so she can kiss Ashe over and over again, each press of lips long and indulgent. Between each kiss, Sombra breathes out, “You want to ride him? Keep his dick busy while I fuck his face?”

“Mm…” Ashe doesn’t have to respond with proper words; the sound she makes, a contemplative and appreciative hum, is enough for Sombra.

Sombra pulls back, a swipe of her tongue over the beautiful painted red of Ashe’s lips her only parting gift before she turns to McCree. And fuck, if he isn’t a sight, already hard and rubbing himself slowly through his pants.

“So impatient,” Sombra chides. She reaches for the front of her jacket and slowly starts to undo it, relishing in the way both sets of eyes on her follow the motion and drink in the slow, teasing reveal of skin as it comes.

“Not even wearin’ a proper shirt,” McCree says. “You little sneak.”

“You love it.” Sombra lets her coat fall to the floor. Her leggings and boots join it a moment later, exposing the rather expensive bra and panties she’s picked out for the night. Black lace and mesh, semi-transparent. They do nothing to hide how damp she is, or how stiff her nipples are under the thin fabric.

Sombra rolls her eyes and twirls in place, a touch smarmier than she perhaps needs to be about it, but what can she say? She likes the attention, and right now, it’s all on her.

“Come here,” she says, turning to Ashe and beckoning her over. Ashe follows her instructions obediently, as if she were drawn in by a shortening leash rather than a crook of a finger.

When Ashe reaches her, Sombra carefully loosens and unfastens her tie, pulling it off and twisting it about her wrist.

“Strip for me, firecracker?” she asks, voice falsely sweet.

“Sure thing,” Ashe says. She sounds far less affected than she looks, face still flushed a pretty shade of pink and hands trembling, just the slightest bit, as she moves to undo her vest.

As she strips, slowly removing her vest and then her blouse, Sombra watches McCree out of the corner of her eye. He’s still massaging himself through his pants, gaze hungry as he watches the two of them, only startling out of the expression when Sombra scoffs at him.

“Just gonna stand there and stare?” she teases. “Come on, vaquero, get in on this. I know you heard us talking about riding you.”

McCree huffs a laugh through the corner of his mouth, and slowly, he lifts his hand from his cock to remove his cigar. He drops it, crushes it under the toe of his boot, and shrugs. “Thought I’d let you ladies have some fun before I started in on it,” he says simply, but he does as Sombra asks anyway and begins to remove his layers (much faster and far more eager than Ashe had, too).

Soon they’re all left in nothing but their undergarments. As soon as they are, Sombra takes Ashe by the hand, practically drags her over to McCree, and shoves her into his arms. They seem to pick up on what she wants right away, and though there’s a flicker of reluctance, it vanishes in the same moment it manifests.

They kiss, hard and deep.

“Mm. That’s what I like to see,” Sombra croons. She steps back and idly rubs between her legs as she watches their tongues meet and slide together.

Sombra decides to ditch her panties rather quickly once she realizes just how wet she is, and as she steps out of them, she slips a finger between her folds and begins to trace small, light circles over her clit.

Ashe and McCree part a moment later for air, and before they can dive right back into each other, Sombra throws her free hand between them, pressing her palm flat to McCree’s chest and coaxing him into walking backwards. Once he’s a few paces away from Ashe, Sombra tugs his boxer-briefs down and off, then shoves him to his knees.

“Stay put,” she says. Then, once again, she turns to Ashe, beckoning her over. Sombra guides Ashe over to McCree, then tells him, under her breath: “Get her nice and wet.”

McCree doesn’t need to be told twice. As soon as the gentle command is uttered, he tugs Ashe’s panties down, presses his mouth to her mound, and slips his tongue between her folds.

Ashe staggers back with a cry, apparently thrown off balance by the sudden eagerness of McCree’s tongue; Sombra wraps an arm around her and pushes up against her back. “Shh,” she soothes. “It’s okay. We’re gonna make you feel good.”

Sombra unlatches Ashe’s bra, deftly opening up her front clasp and sliding the garment from her shoulders. Once it’s off, Sombra reaches around to cup Ashe’s breasts. She squeezes, firm but not hard, and pinches her nipples between two fingers.

Ashe gasps, mouth falling open and head tilting back. Sombra takes advantage of it and drags her lips up her neck, biting down and gently sucking a mark into Ashe’s smooth, pale skin.

“Ah – ahh, fuck,” Ashe stutters. “McCree…”

Her hand comes down to knock McCree’s hat off his head and fist in his hair. Ashe pushes him down; Sombra watches with mild interest.

Ashe’s hips rock back and forth, shoving herself closer to McCree as she moves forward and rubbing her ass against Sombra’s pelvis every time she rocks back. It feels good insofar as it relieves some of the pressure building in the put of Sombra’s stomach, but Sombra wants more.

And she knows Ashe does, too.

“Hey,” Sombra breathes, lips dragging up Ashe’s neck to brush against her ear. One hand moves down from Ashe’s breast, over her hip and between her legs from behind. She can very nearly feel McCree’s tongue poke against her finger as she slips it past Ashe’s perineum, and she smiles. “I think you’re wet enough, don’t you?”

“H-hah.” Ashe’s laugh is breathy and weak, but unmistakably pleased all the same. “You read my mind, darlin’.”

Sombra backs up. Ashe tugs McCree’s hair to pull him off her. McCree licks his lips. All three of them grin, and then they all move at once: Sombra walks around Ashe to stand behind her; McCree leans back until he’s lying down on the floor, pushed by both Sombra and Ashe; and once he’s down, Ashe takes a step backwards so she can kneel above McCree’s hard, leaking cock.

“Wait,” Sombra says. She grins and untwists the tie still around her wrist, pulling it taut between her suspended hands. “One more thing, firecracker.”

Ashe watches her out of the corner of her eye. She glowers, but the expression quickly morphs into a smirk as she considers what Sombra is asking of her. “You’re a cheeky thing, aren’t ya?” she asks, but she closes her eyes and leans back anyway, presenting herself for Sombra all the same. “Not even goin’ to let me see his face when I make him come undone.”

“Like hell you will,” McCree says, amused more than annoyed. Sombra has to admit, she shares the feeling.

“Quiet, both of you,” she chides, laughter in her voice as she drapes Ashe’s necktie over her eyes, wraps it around her head, and ties it tight. She lets the ends fall and brush Ashe’s shoulder, eliciting a shiver from the other woman.

“What a sight,” McCree breathes. He grins as Sombra saunters over and drops to her knees at his side. “You ladies really know how to show a man a good time.”

He’s still joking, even as Sombra rolls her eyes, swings a leg over his broad chest, and shuffles forward to straddle his face. Without prompting, McCree reaches up to wrap his arms around Sombra’s thighs, hands resting on the dip of her spine.

“Shut up, McCree,” Ashe says. Unsteadily now that she’s been deprived of her sight, she shifts above him, but sinks down once she finds the right spot.

McCree has no problem at all obeying her after that.

He surges up, moaning as he presses his lips to Sombra’s slit. A tongue slips into it, dragging against her inner labia and up to her clit. Sombra moans and rocks her hips in a slow, steady rhythm, preferring to ease McCree into it rather than force him to properly tongue fuck her right away like she wants.

Ashe seems to have no such restraint, though: as soon as she bottoms out, she’s back up, taking what she wants from McCree with no remorse. She’s always been like this – and while Sombra is usually fond of Ashe for her impatience, right now she’s a touch annoyed with it. Sombra wants this to last, after all, and if McCree finishes too soon…

So Sombra lifts herself off McCree. She ignores the sound of protest he makes as she turns around to face Ashe. It quickly becomes a grateful groan when she lowers herself down onto his face again, anyway.

“Good boy,” Sombra says. She lets McCree enjoy himself a moment before she starts rocking her hips again, and reaches for Ashe. “And you…”

“Yeah?” Ashe grins as she leans forward, mirroring Sombra’s motion without realizing. They get their arms around each other, Sombra’s around her neck and Ashe’s tentatively around her waist, and they kiss, slow and deep and languid.

Beneath them, McCree steadily rolls his hips up, rocking into Ashe at a good, steady pace. One Sombra is happy to maintain as she grinds down on him, and one she is certain would be driving Ashe crazy with impatience if she weren’t distracted by Sombra’s mouth and hands and her own lack of sight; but she is, and Sombra eagerly drinks in her moans, swallowing them as she curls a tongue into Ashe’s desperate, wanting mouth.

Her rhythm stutters, though, and she jumps when McCree’s tongue presses on her clit. Sombra lets out an uncharacteristically high-pitched squeak, and that’s enough of a signal as any for both McCree and Ashe to take advantage of her temporary loss of control.

Ashe slides her hands over Sombra’s breasts and squeezes her over her bra, just this side of too hard; it’s a little mean, but Sombra always has liked a rough hand. A rough tongue, too, which she is quickly reminded of when McCree redoubles his efforts and rapidly laps at her clit, pointed and merciless.

“H-haah… About time you two started – ah! – working for it,” Sombra grunts, and though she intends for her words to be harsh and critical, the effect is completely ruined by her cracking voice.

Ashe smirks and squeezes harder, lifting her own hips and driving herself back down onto McCree. “Mighty big talk for someone who can’t finish a sentence without moanin’,” she says.

“Fuck you,” Sombra replies smartly. Beneath her, she feels a puff of air escape McCree. It’s such a strange sensation, one she’s not used to, and it sends a powerful shudder through her body.

“I’d say he’s got that covered.” Ashe laughs to herself and lets Sombra go, hand moving down to her own clit and rubbing furiously at it. She bounces up and down vigorously on McCree’s cock, and moments later, tosses her head back and cries out. Sombra watches Ashe hit her climax, her stretched pussy gushing as she grinds against McCree.

“Oh – fuck –” McCree has to pull away from Sombra to grit the words out, fragments though they are. He sets his jaw and exhales roughly through his nose, focus dragged away from eating Sombra out (much to her chagrin) to center on ramming himself inside Ashe.

“There! Fuck, yes, Jesse, yes!” Ashe very nearly laughs as a second orgasm takes her, only stopping when McCree forcibly pulls out of her to jerk himself off the rest of the way.

He comes quickly, cum splattering all over his belly and between Sombra and Ashe. Sombra reaches behind her to grab McCree’s head and force it back on her pussy, and though he’s still technically in the throes of his climax, he obediently goes back to eating her out.

Fortunately for him, Sombra is close enough that it only takes a few quick (albeit sloppy) strokes of his tongue to push her toward the edge. Ashe’s lips on Sombra’s neck and her teeth digging into Sombra’s skin only drag her over it faster, and Sombra comes with a breathy gasp, muscles seizing and relaxing in waves.

She doesn’t think she’s ever come so hard in her life.

It feels like it takes forever for her to finish properly – or at least longer than usual. By the time she comes down from it, Sombra is exhausted, her entire body limp and relaxed. She slowly slides off of McCree and flops down next to him, not caring that the floor is cold, hard, and dirty. She’s too tired to be bothered by it. Belatedly, she realizes Ashe is on the ground too, makeshift blindfold off and tossed somewhere to the side as she lies on her side and traces a hand up and down McCree’s sweaty, soaked chest.

“Back among the livin’?” McCree asks. Sombra hates the amusement in his tone, the clear tease of it, but she just rolls her eyes and laughs, too pleased with herself to get worked up about it.

“Yeah,” she says.

“About time,” Ashe huffs. Sombra cracks an eye open and sticks her tongue out.

After that, none of them feel much need to say anything. They just lie there, basking in the afterglow, each of them lost in their own thoughts. Sombra can only begin to assume how Ashe and McCree must be feeling about this, but her mind is already abuzz with schemes and ideas.

Eventually, she stands, the first of the three to do so.

“This was fun,” Sombra says. “We should do it again sometime.” She offers a hand first to McCree, then Ashe, helping each of them up in turn.

“...If she’s willin’ to play nice,” McCree says.

“Oh, Jesse.” Ashe smirks at him, though the effect is somewhat ruined by her smeared lipstick. “You know I always play nice.”

McCree scoffs. “That’s bullshit and we all know it.”

“Hey, now.” Sombra steps between them, wrapping her arms around each of their waists. “Just because that’s true, doesn’t mean we should hold it against her. I like it when she’s a bit of a brat.”

“See?” Ashe’s smirk stretches wider.

McCree hums petulantly. Sombra laughs, “You didn’t seem to mind, either,” she points out.

The shade of red McCree turns is adorable, but instead of poking fun at it like she normally might, Sombra pulls away from her two lovers and moves to start gathering her things. “Let’s go,” she says. “I booked us a hotel room.”

“And what makes you think we’re gonna go anywhere with you after you tricked us like that?” Ashe asks, all fake bravado and performed irritation.

“My sweet ass.” Sombra winks; Ashe rolls her eyes. “No, really. You think this was enough? I was hoping we could continue this somewhere a bit more… comfortable. Poor McCree’s back is probably killing him.”

“I wouldn’t object to a good massage,” McCree says, clearly intrigued.

“And I won’t mind giving it to you while we discuss… whatever this is.” Sombra slips her panties back on, then her bra. Quick and efficient. “Because from what I can see, I’m not the only one who wants this to keep being a thing. Or am I wrong?”

Ashe and McCree exchange a look, each of them regarding the other with a mixture of suspicion and interest. They really are adorable, Sombra thinks.

“...Fine,” Ashe says at last. “We’ll talk. But I ain’t makin’ any promises.”

“Not that we’d believe you if you did.” McCree fetches his own clothing, but before he pulls anything on, he fishes a cigar box and lighter out of his pants’ pocket. He pops the box open and offers one to Ashe. It’s as clear a sign as any that he means no hostility, and he’s accepting her tentative trust while extending an olive branch of his own.

Sombra grins. Good, she thinks, as Ashe takes one of the cigars and leans in to let McCree light it for her.