#rencio

His hands are huge. Lúcio's never been big by any means, but this man is larger than life, strong and scarred, his body as pleasant as his personality. Lúcio lies, stomach down, a thin, white towel the only thing shielding his body from the onslaught of those gigantic, calloused hands as they work their way down his back. Warm and oiled, they slide in soothing, sinuous motions. Less soothing is the effect they have on Lúcio, who exhales quiet, hiccuped breaths and softer moans.

"My small friend, you are so tense. Let me help you," Reinhardt says, not in his normal, boisterous tone, but low, for his ears only.

They aren't exactly alone. Commander Morrison just left to shower, and McCree had settled at the far end of the springs, the smoke of his cigarillo swirling with the steam, further softening the air.

Those sneaky hands slip lower, over his ass, squeezing almost innocently before they dip closer to its rounded apex, then inward, seeking. Lúcio spreads his thighs on instinct, flushing down to his stomach, but he doesn't regret it one bit as Reinhardt gropes him, sinks his fingers deep into the cleft of his ass.

"Mm, your massages really are the best. I could lay like this forever." Lúcio’s words are shakier than he means, heat heavy and soft. The lazy knot holding his towel in place shifts as Lúcio does, exposing more than just his upper thighs. He can tell the moment Reinhardt sees his balls, tightened against his body, swollen and aching, craving more.

"Sit up, Schätzchen," Reinhardt groans, a harried whisper, his hands digging into the flesh of his thighs, kneading and wanting, and Lúcio's cock gives a traitorous throb, trapped as it is against his stomach the wood beneath.

Lúcio struggles to comply, drowsy from the steam, the buzz of Reinhardt’s hands all over him. He lurches up, his back to Jesse, shivering as Reinhardt hunkers down. Is he hidden? He has no clue how closely the cowboy’s watching them, but as he sinks his fingers into coarse, gray hair, Lúcio finds he cares little about the audience.

Reinhardt’s certainly not shy, head dipping beneath the tiny swath of his towel, finding his cock hard and leaking. He laps at the tip like its candy, and Lúcio moans as quietly as he can, craning forward, shaking and only a little embarrassed.

He pulls back after a few moments of suckling, of easily swallowing Lúcio down in practiced bobs, and Lúcio heats, wiggling as that teasing mouth sinks lower.

The first hot, wet drag against his ass startles him, but the second melts him into the steam, a huge, oiled hand clasping his cock, working it in time to the eager tongue teasing his rim.

“R-rein, I’m…” Lúcio whispers. “Damn, I’m gonna—!”

It’s all the warning he gets, but Reinhardt only grins against him, leaning back, catching the first burst of cum along his tongue, pumping Lúcio’s cock as he waits with mouth open for the rest of his prize.