#somcy

She was used to these frequent heat cycles. As a rabbit, she fell victim to them often, but normally she was able to keep them under control. Still, the intensity of these heats could hit her hard, and like most rabbits, she was susceptible to other animals’ pheromones.

And few animals had scents as strong as wolves.

Mercy had been around her fair share of wolves. She’d gotten used to them, to some extent, but even she was no match for McCree, who had one of the most overwhelmingly powerful scents she’d ever come across. And normally, this isn’t a problem. If their heats ever end up syncing, they’re usually able to take care of matters quickly and privately. That isn’t an option on missions, though, so they’ve found a number of workarounds. Provided McCree takes them, that is.

Mercy sighs heavily. “I wish you had remembered your suppressants,” she says.

McCree raises a brow. “I did.”

“Did you?” Angela looks at him incredulously. He can’t have - he smells so strong. “How many did you take?”

“Just the one.”

Mercy sighs and leans against the wall. “Next time, take two.”

“Thought one would be enough.” McCree's mouth breaks into a wide grin, his sharp canines stirring a mixture of primal fear and deep, deep arousal in Mercy. “Guess when the season hits, it hits hard, huh?”

Angela glares at him, long ears flattening behind her head, but her face turns pink. “Wolves.”

McCree shrugs. “Can't help it anymore than you can,” he says.

And isn't that the truth. Angela can tell he's trying to rein himself in, to make himself seem as unappealing as he can by trying to get on her nerves, but there's not much he can do to stop the wonderfully heady, musky scent rolling off him in waves…

Before she realizes what she's doing, Mercy inhales deeply, drinking in that beautiful scent. She leans forward subconsciously, following it…

“Whoa there, partner,” McCree says, holding up a hand to push her away. The touch, light as it is, sends an electric tingle all through her body. “We're on a mission, remember?”

“Y-yes, of course I do,” Mercy responds, hating how her voice falters. She can feel her face warm even more. “Is the coast clear?”

McCree hums and turns to face the door. His ears perk right up, then twist and turn left and right as he tries to listen for people approaching. “Seems safe to me. Can't hear nothin’.”

“Good.” Mercy waits for him to open the closet door for her and she strides out ahead of him, only a little less gracefully than normal. She takes a deep breath, glad to no longer be in that cramped closet where all she could smell were the pheromones radiating off of McCree.

“Which way now?” she asks.

McCree takes a second to re-orient himself before pointing to a hallway to their left. “This way.”

He takes off and Angela follows without question.

---

They make it a fair distance before they have to stop again. The two of them run together, McCree just slightly ahead - Angela is fast, even for a rabbit, but she still can’t keep up with McCree’s powerful wolf legs - until McCree suddenly halts at a corner, sticking out a hand to stop Angela going any further. He presses himself against the wall, and she presses herself to it too, right next to him.

Close. Too close.

And that’s her first mistake.

Her second mistake is not holding her breath. She closes her mouth to breathe through her nose and immediately knows she’s messed up: McCree smells even stronger now, the sweat gathered beneath his clothes and armor amplifying his scent. Angela bites her lip and clenches her legs together, trying in vain to alleviate some of the pressure that’s gathered between them. And oh, god, she’s wet, too. She squeezes her eyes shut, wishing for nothing more than the ground to swallow her up and put her out of her misery--

But that doesn’t happen. Instead, McCree shifts next to her, his hand brushing her shoulder (probably to get her attention), and it’s like a switch goes off in her head. She opens her eyes and grabs McCree by the arms, dragging him down into a forceful kiss and wrapping her arms around his neck. Angela pushes herself into him, sighing through her nose at the pleasant feel of her sensitive breasts pressing up against his chest.

McCree leans into the kiss, slipping his tongue into Angela’s mouth and sliding it against hers. It doesn’t last long, however, because he comes to his senses and pulls away almost immediately. “Ange, what’re you--”

He stops, seeing the look on Mercy’s face. Her eyes are dark, pupils blown wide open, and her face is flushed desperately. McCree licks his lips. No words need to be said: he knows what she wants.

And he wants it too.

He lets her drag him through the hall until they find another door. She reaches for the handle, but McCree beats her to it and practically throws the door open, dragging Angela inside and throwing her up against the nearest wall while the door slams shut behind them.

But then they hear something. A voice.

“Um, excuse me? We’re kind of in the middle of something here.”

McCree goes stock still. Angela tenses against him, and slowly, she looks over his shoulder to see that the office they’re in is currently occupied.

By two more rabbits.

One of them has her arms around the other - this one has brown ears and a dark mohawk flipped over one side of her head, the ends of it tipped in purple and white. The other looks serious, if not annoyed, and she has a long, straight curtain of dark hair hanging down her back. She glares at the two intruders, her black ears flattening down behind her head.

“Just what do you think you are doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” McCree says back, somehow managing to sound composed despite how wildly his scent indicates the opposite. “You don’t look like LumériCo employees to me.”

“We’re not,” the purple-haired one says back. Mercy notes the way her lips curl into a smile and how her grip on her… friend loosens slightly. “But neither are you.”

“How perceptive.” McCree turns around fully now, stepping away from the wall and taking a small step towards the other women. Angela frowns: she knows that tone, recognizes the cautious, but intrigued tilt of McCree’s ears, the way his tail tenses…

The purple-haired woman walks forward too, leaving her friend behind. “I know you. You’re Overwatch.”

“You can call me McCree.”

“Sombra.”

They stop, half a foot apart. McCree leers down at Sombra, and Sombra smirks up at him. “That don’t sound like a real name to me.”

“You don’t need to know any more than that.”

Sombra licks her lips. She looks McCree up and down, very obviously checking him out. Angela steps forward, her ears perked and her nose twitching wildly as she steps closer. She sniffs the air as she approaches the two of them and her eyes lock with Sombra’s. The scent of sex and want is in the air, radiating off all three of them like sunlight through a break in the clouds. Angela can smell it on herself, on McCree, on Sombra…

And she wants more.

She can tell Sombra must be thinking the same thing, because the other bunny turns to face her as she approaches. And like she was returning to a lost love after years of being apart, Sombra opens her arms and pulls Mercy in, kissing her hungrily and desperately.

Angela moans. Her knees go weak and she lets Sombra guide her through the kiss, opening her mouth the instant a tongue prods against her lips. She hears McCree growl behind her (possessively? Enviously?) and she backs up, turning and pulling Sombra with her until she’s sandwiched between the purple-haired rabbit and the big, hungry wolf.

She can feel McCree’s dick pressing up against her ass, already hard, and she grinds up against him wantonly. He groans, deep in his throat, and leans down to press his lips to her neck. It’s a little bit awkward with Sombra still kissing her so deeply and eagerly, but it still feels so, so good. Mercy moans again and throws her head back, at last breaking the kiss. Sombra hums, half-chuckling to herself as she backs up to watch McCree take her place.

“Look at them,” Sombra says, voice low but still distinct enough for Angela’s sensitive ears to pick up on the words. “They don’t even try to fight it.  Why do you? I know you want this as bad as I do…”

“I’m busy,” the other woman says. “I’ve been tasked with--”

But Sombra cuts her off with a hand trailing down her chest, over the swell of her breast. Mercy opens her eyes to watch.

“Symmetra, please,” Sombra croons. Her other hand comes up to stroke that long, shimmering hair. “We’ll get to it. Why don’t we have some fun in the meantime?”

Symmetra glances at Mercy and McCree, still locked in their embrace, and frowns. Sombra waits for an answer patiently, but when she doesn’t get one, she says, “Fine. I’ll just go enjoy myself then.”

She practically skips back over to Angela and McCree, leaving Symmetra red-faced and appalled. But the long-haired rabbit doesn’t make a move to leave - she stands where she is and watches instead. Sombra turns back to wink at her before giving Angela and McCree her full attention.

Angela immediately feels a hand on her hips, guiding her so that Sombra can press herself firmly against her back. She sighs when she feels Sombra’s breasts squish against her, and she gasps when she feels another hand reach around to stroke between her legs.

“Ohh…” Sombra groans. Angela pulls away from McCree’s lips and shrinks in on herself a little bit, closing her eyes to lose herself to the pleasure of Sombra’s fingers stroking her through her leggings.

“What’s got you so worked up?” Sombra asks. “Is this all him?” She glances up at McCree, eyes hooded and cloudy with lust. “He smells so good… no wonder you’re so wet.”

A chill runs through Angela, but she smiles through it. “Have you never been with a wolf before?” she asks, and she can’t help the smugness that seeps into her tone.

Sombra shakes her head. Her nose twitches as she inhales McCree’s scent. “Never.”

“Oh?” McCree leans forward, grinning. Sombra’s eyes light up when she sees his canines shine in the low light. “Well now’s your chance, sugar.”

They surge forward at the same time, kissing over Mercy’s shoulder while she grinds between the two of them. Sombra’s hand on her pussy provides some much-needed relief, but it’s not enough. She needs more direct contact - a finger, a tongue, a cock, anything.

As if sensing her desperation, McCree pulls away from Sombra with a wet smack. He backs up and gives Angela just enough space for her to slip her leggings and panties off, and she does so in a rush, not bothering to be graceful or teasing about it. Her audience seems to appreciate it just the same.

“Damn, Ange, you’re worse off than I thought,” McCree says, licking his lips and narrowing his eyes hungrily at her. The smile he gives her is absolutely predatory, and she can’t wait any longer: before he or Sombra can make any other move, Mercy thrusts a hand between her legs and starts to rub at her own clit, whimpering and whining as she works at it furiously.

“What a good little bunny you’ve trained,” Sombra says, eyes locked on McCree before she turns to look longingly at Symmetra. “If only my little conejita was the same…”

Symmetra’s eyes had been on Mercy, but her attention snaps back to Sombra as soon as she hears the nickname. Both other women look at her smugly; she can try all she wants to hide it, but she’s clearly been affected not only by the intense scents and pheromones in the room, but by the sight of Angela’s desperation. Still, she does not relent, though her hand moves suspiciously from the front of her dress to clutch at the side of it. “I don’t think so.”

Sombra shrugs nonchalantly. “Whatever you say. More for me, then.”

She turns back to the other two. McCree is stripping slowly, watching as Angela continues to masturbate, and Angela’s eyes are firmly locked on him. She doesn’t notice Sombra taking off her clothes until the other bunny comes up behind her and drops to her knees, spreading Angela’s folds and slipping her tongue between them.

“Ah!” Angela’s knees buckle and Sombra catches her, holding her up with firm, steady hands on her hips. She feels Sombra laugh, the vibrations of it shooting up through her and coiling in her gut. She’s already so close, and yet…

“That’s it.” McCree’s voice catches her attention and she looks up to see him, shirt unbuttoned and naked from the waist down, walking toward her. “Get her nice and wet now, then we can give her exactly what she wants.”

“Please,” Mercy whines.

Another laugh from Sombra. Mercy clenches around her tongue and her eyes squeeze shut as she tries to hold back a scream. When she opens them, McCree is in front of her.

He leers down and puts his big, strong hands on her shoulders to push her down to her knees. Comprehension dawns on Angela’s face immediately and she goes readily, opening her mouth in anticipation of it being filled.

As she moves down, Sombra pulls away. There’s no more room for her to continue eating Mercy out, and Mercy whimpers, desperate to feel that sinfully skilled tongue inside her again. McCree seems to understand, though, and he grins.

“Ain’t no reason you gotta stop, sugar,” he says to Sombra. “Ange, be a good girl and spread your legs nice and wide for her. Let her in there, that’s it.”

Mercy does as she’s asked as soon as the words leave McCree’s mouth, and as soon as she’s in position Sombra slips between her legs, lying flat on her back on the floor. She kisses Angela’s leaking pussy gently before going right back to what she’d started and greedily lapping at her clit, but this time slipping two fingers inside her as well.

Angela’s mouth falls open. She cries out and McCree wastes no time taking advantage of it: he shoves his cock into her mouth as deep as it’ll go, and then that little bit deeper as it swells. Angela moans around it, her eyes brimming with happy, relieved tears. She’s finally, finally getting what she wants.

“You like that?” McCree asks. Angela wants so badly to nod, but she can’t; McCree’s knot has filled out in her mouth and she can barely move. She’s never been so happy to lack a gag reflex

Once Mercy has had time to adjust to his size and find where she’s comfortable, McCree lets her have it. He jerks his hips, growling as his cock hits the back of her throat over and over again. He can’t thrust as deeply as he’d like to, since his knot prevents him from pulling out all the way, but this is good enough. He’s hot and thick in her mouth and in her throat, and Mercy is certain he must be able to see his tip bulging in her.

“Fuck, Ange,” McCree grits out between clenched teeth. Angela tries to swallow around him, hoping to show that she’s enjoying this just as much as he is, and that she doesn’t just want him to fuck her face. She wants to work him to completion, to suck him down until he comes down her throat and fills her up.

And he does - but not before she comes. Angela gets so lost in the euphoria of McCree fucking her mouth that she almost forgets about Sombra finger-fucking her pussy, but she’s blissfully reminded of the other bunny when she feels a third finger slip into her cunt like it’s nothing. Angela rocks back against Sombra, moaning around McCree when Sombra crooks her fingers and rubs that sweet spot inside her that makes her see stars.

Every inch of Angela’s body tenses up. Her legs seize, her pussy clenches, and her throat closes tight around McCree’s cock, tight enough that it makes McCree moan - almost howl - with pleasure, and that’s when he lets go. Mercy takes shallow, greedy breaths through her nose as cum floods her mouth and gushes down her throat. Tears fall from the corners of her eyes, but she smiles and almost laughs through it, she’s so happy.

McCree’s brow relaxes as his knot deflates. He pulls out once it’s small enough, and as he does, the last spurts of cum follow and leak out from between Mercy’s lips. It dribbles down her chin messily.

McCree laughs. “Sorry, Ange,” he says, but Angela barely hears him. She doesn’t quite have the wherewithal to reply: her orgasm is still wearing off with the last few, gentle flicks of Sombra’s tongue against her clit.

McCree looks down just in time to see Sombra slide out from under Mercy. She licks her lips, satisfied, and turns her narrow, lusty gaze on the wolf instead. “Not bad,” she says. “But I think I’d like to get a taste of something else.”

McCree gets the message right away and walks forward. His dick is starting to soften, but that doesn’t seem to deter Sombra in the least: she leans forward, still on her knees, and licks at the tip, happily lapping up the remnants of cum still clinging to McCree.

And it’s like a switch flicks on.

Sombra goes all-in: she takes McCree as deep into her mouth as she can, like she just can’t get enough of the taste of his cum. Mercy watches with awe and just the slightest bit of envy: even though she’s already come, even though she’s already swallowed him down, she wants more.

McCree seems to notice. He grins, feral and toothy, and pulls Sombra off his dick. She whines and pouts up at him.

“Don’t you worry, now,” he tells her, taking her chin in his hand and directing her gaze back to Mercy. “Daddy’s got somethin’ else planned for you. But I don’t think Angie’s quite finished yet.”

With his free hand, he beckons Angela closer. She crawls to him obediently, then when McCree gestures to Sombra, she leans in to kiss the other woman deeply. Once again, the taste of McCree floods her mouth and she moans, wrapping her arms around Sombra and pulling her closer while McCree positions himself behind her.

It’s not just McCree she tastes, and the realization of it hits her like a truck - it’s herself, too, and the mixture of the two of them, salty-sour-sweet all together. It makes Angela weak in the knees, but she keeps going, keeps holding Sombra to her, unwilling to let her go for even a second, not when she’s still so aroused and Sombra’s lips are so soft and inviting...

But she doesn’t have much choice. McCree slips his fingers into Sombra and she gasps, breaking the kiss, and leaving Mercy wanting more.

“Fuck,” the wolf hisses through clenched teeth. “So wet you don’t even need me to warm you up. What say we just get right to it, then?”

He takes Sombra by the hips and yanks her back, but it’s hardly necessary; Sombra goes with him willingly, turning over so she’s on her back and looking up at McCree hovering over her. “Let me see those teeth while you fuck me, Papi.”

McCree grins and bears them. “Anything you want, sweetheart.”

He slams in.

The moment he’s inside her, Angela moans. Sombra’s back arches right off the floor and she screams, so loud Angela wonders if she’s already come. She can practically feel the phantom stretch of having McCree’s knot in her, too, and she decides right then and there that if she can’t have it right now, she needs something. Her hand flies between her legs once again and she slips two fingers into her still-gaping hole, fucking herself on them as she watches McCree go to town on Sombra’s pussy.

Sombra’s eyes are hazy as she turns her head to face Mercy, but she smiles and laughs weakly through the fugue of being filled so completely. “Jealous, conejita?”

Angela is too far-gone to glare, but she tries anyway. Sombra laughs, shakes her head, then tilts her chin up and moves her gaze onto something behind Mercy. “Come on, Sym, why don’t you come play with us?”

Mercy turns around to look at Symmetra, who, though once-proud and defiant, is currently leaning, almost doubled-over, on the lone desk in the room. She bites her lip, trying to move so Mercy can’t see that her prosthetic hand has slipped beneath her dress. Although she’s a little bit more subtle than Mercy has been, it’s still painfully obvious what she had been doing up until Sombra called her out.

Symmetra freezes, wide-eyed, and looks from Sombra to McCree to Mercy and back again. Behind her, Mercy hears Sombra laugh, and she turns to look, but her view of Sombra splayed-out on the floor and loving every second of it is obscured by McCree leaning over and licking her face as he thrusts wildly into her dripping pussy.

McCree groans. “Fuck, can still taste her on you,” he says. He thrusts harder, faster, like the taste of Angela’s ejaculate has spurred him on and re-energized him.

It’s re-energized Angela, too.

She stands up, withdrawing her fingers from herself and licking them clean as she saunters over to Symmetra. She sits on the edge of the desk, right next to the other woman, with a sly smile. Symmetra eyes her warily.

“You look like you could use some help,” Angela says quietly. She leans in closer. “May I?”

“I refuse to let that wolf touch me,” Symmetra spits, but some of the venom of her words is lost from the way she gazes longingly at said wolf and his new prey. Angela just smiles.

“You don’t have to,” she says reassuringly. “But will you let me?”

Satya doesn’t say yes, but she doesn’t protest, either. Angela just waits, watching Symmetra carefully even when the other woman won’t meet her eye. But eventually, she does lean in closer, offering her cheek to Angela.

And Angela takes it, kissing it softly. She kisses her again, this time moving slightly closer to the black bunny’s lips. Then again, right at the corner of them. On the fourth kiss, Symmetra turns her head so they can kiss properly, closed lips meeting gently.

Then all hell breaks loose.

All restraint melts away from Symmetra after that first contact. She presses forward, massaging Mercy’s lips open gently until they’re both kissing open-mouthed, tongues sliding against one another. Symmetra moans and Angela slides a hand under her dress to trace the hot, damp outline of Symmetra’s cunt through her underclothes.

The kiss breaks and Symmetra cries out, unable to hold back. Her face flushes and Mercy coos at her, leaning in to kiss her cheeks, her chin, her neck. “It’s okay,” she whispers. “You can let go. I’ll take care of you.”

There’s one last moment of hesitation, but it quickly dissolves and Symmetra surrenders. She lets Mercy strip her of her shorts and panties, and practically jumps on her fingers when she offers them. Her short, fluffy tail twitches erratically when she finally gets something inside her.

“We’ve kept you waiting far too long,” Mercy teases. She smiles as she crooks her fingers, stroking Symmetra from the inside and quickly bringing her near the edge. Symmetra cries out, a hand flying to her mouth to once again try and silence herself, but Mercy pulls it away just as fast.

“I told you it was okay, didn’t I?” she says without a trace of malice. “Please, Symmetra, let me hear you. If you try to quiet yourself again, I might…”

She slows the movement of her fingers.

“...Just…”

She pulls them out.

“Stop.”

Symmetra nearly sobs. She looks at Angela pleadingly, face flushed dark and ears pinned back flat against the back of her head. “No, please…”

Angela smiles and moves around to stand behind her. “That’s better. Now be a good girl for me and let them know how much you’re enjoying this.”

Symmetra whips her head around, taking in McCree and Sombra once again with wide eyes, as if she had forgotten they were there (how could she, though, when McCree was fucking Sombra so hard they could hear every thrust?). Mercy giggles softly behind her, then carefully slides her wet finger over Symmetra’s rim, past her perineum, and back into her soaking-wet cunt.

Symmetra sighs with relief, sinking down to lean over the desk on her elbows. Mercy leans over and gently nips at the tip of Symmetra’s long, elegant ears. “Watch them, now,” she says, and she feels Symmetra shiver against her.

Mercy watches, too. She watches as Sombra wraps her arms around McCree’s neck, pulling him down closer to her. They kiss, hard, but it’s barely a kiss at all, really: it’s all tongues meeting, all Sombra licking at McCree’s sharp canines, all growls and groans and gasps.

There are scratch marks on Sombra’s arms and back where McCree’s grabbed at her. He does it again, his nails raking more angry red lines down her back, and Sombra half-moans, half-laughs at the feeling. When she falls back to the floor, her legs come around McCree’s waist and she clamps down around him, holding him in place for a brief moment.

“Knot ain’t enough for you?” he asks. “Not like I’m about to fall out, you know.”

“Cállate.” Sombra nips and McCree’s jawline. “Just let me enjoy myself.”

“Guess you are pretty new to the whole wolf thing,” McCree says. “Shoulda had Ange give you some pointers.”

“Don’t need ‘em,” Sombra says right back without missing a beat. She jerks her hips and tenses up, and McCree grunts. His brows furrow and his fingers scrape against the floor - a sure sign that he’s about to come.

And come he does.

There’s so much. So much cum that it not just leaks out of Sombra’s pussy, but seems to flow out of her in waves. Angela is deeply familiar with the feeling, and she feels herself leak a little in an automatic response. She almost misses Symmetra’s desperate little whimper, but she doesn’t miss the way the black bunny clenches around her fingers. Symmetra is close, too.

Both McCree and Sombra continue to jerk and thrust against one another as they ride out their orgasms. Sombra looks absolutely wrecked by the time McCree finally deflates and pulls out of her. She lies there for a moment, just trying to come back down to earth, but eventually she staggers to her feet and slowly makes her way over to the other two ladies waiting for her. Jizz drips down her legs where it still leaks out of her over-full pussy.

Mercy swears Sombra’s belly is bulging.

Eventually, Sombra stops in front of the desk. She leans over, still foggy in the head, and sloppily kisses Symmetra. Symmetra eagerly returns it, the sound of her moans getting lost in Sombra’s mouth. Angela has stopped moving her fingers to give her a small break, but seeing how happy Symmetra is to be making out with her girlfriend (is Sombra her girlfriend?) gives Mercy an idea.

“Jesse,” she calls. McCree looks up, reaction time slowed by post-coital haze. “Come here.”

Slowly, he gets to his feet. McCree does as Angela asks and approaches her. He moves behind her when she gestures for him to, already knowing what she wants, as usual. Angela presses herself against his softening cock as he strokes it back to hardness, and as soon as he’s able to, he slips it inside her.

Angela does a marvelous job of keeping her composure this time. She sighs contentedly when she finally feels McCree’s knot swell and fill her up. She still does not move the hand buried inside Symmetra’s warm, wet heat, though.

Symmetra notices this, too. When Sombra pulls away from her, she turns her head to look at Mercy over her shoulders. Her eyes are cloudy, pupils blown wide - just as affected by all the pheromones as the rest of them, now. “Wh… why did you stop?”

Angela laughs. “Because I know this isn’t enough for you,” she says. When Symmetra looks at her uncomprehendingly, she clarifies: “I saw the way you looked at the two of them, and I don’t think Sombra is the one you want anymore, is it?”

Symmetra tenses, but stays silent. Bingo.

Sombra follows their gazes to McCree and smirks. “Aw, pobrecita,” she coos, leaning forward to take Symmetra’s chin in one hand. She turns the black bunny’s head toward her, and kisses her forehead gently. “I thought you were too good for the big bad wolf?”

Symmetra looks like she’s about to spit in Sombra’s face, but she doesn’t. Angela strokes her hair, right between her ears, and it seems to soothe Symmetra somewhat. “I… changed my mind,” she says simply.

“Oh?” Sombra looks like the cat that got the canary - not at all the rabbit running from its prey. “And why’s that?”

Symmetra grimaces. Angela plays with her ears. “Don’t tease her,” she says. “God knows how hard it is to resist McCree when he’s… like this.”

Behind her, McCree jerks his hips. Angela bites back a moan, but she turns her head so he can kiss her cheek. He licks it instead. “Hey now, you can’t blame all this on me,” he says. “I may smell good, but y’all are the ones in heat right now.”

“As if you’re not,” Sombra says, breathless, as she tries to take in another deep whiff of McCree’s scent. It’s not quite his time yet, but it wouldn’t surprise Mercy in the least if all of this - if her and Sombra and Symmetra in such heavy, obvious heats - has triggered it in him early.

“He just smells so good,” Symmetra says all in one breath, reminding them all that she’s still there, still desperate. “I can’t…”

“Can’t help yourself?” Mercy plays with Symmetra’s ear, rubbing the velvety tip of it between her thumb and forefinger. Symmetra melts into the touch, arching her head back to give Mercy better access. “It’s okay, dear. I know. But you have to earn your turn.”

She looks up at Sombra, extremely grateful that the other bunny is so quick on the uptake. Sombra climbs up onto the desk, sits in front of Symmetra, spreads her legs, and opens herself up. She’s still dripping excess wolf cum, and Mercy feels another jolt of arousal go through her that has nothing to do with the knot currently buried deep inside her. She swears she sees Symmetra’s mouth water, too.

“Go on, dear,” she says. “If you’re good and clean her all out, then I’ll let you have your turn.”

Symmetra practically dives in.

Mercy can’t blame her. She’s just barely held herself together up until this point, and now that both Sombra and Symmetra are occupied, she can finally let herself go too.

McCree must feel the tension leave her body, because as soon as Mercy stops focusing on Symmetra and starts to relax, he grabs her by the hips and starts to thrust into her like there’s no tomorrow. She feels his nails dig into her skin as he moves her, pushing and pulling her back and forth just as much and as hard as he fucks into her.

“I’m amazed you could wait,” she gasps out. “You’re not usually this patient…”

“Took everythin’ I had not to throw you down and fuck you ‘til you screamed,” McCree growls. “But I know not to interrupt you when you’re workin’.”

He licks her cheek again, lapping up the trickle of sweat that’s started to run down her temple. Mercy laughs and turns her head so McCree can kiss her properly. She clenches down around him, trying to stay nice and tight for him, just the way she knows he likes. He seems to appreciate it, because soon his rhythm is stuttering, losing all sense of control. He’s just chasing the high of orgasm now.

And that suits Mercy just fine.

She breaks away from McCree’s lips to turn her attention back to Symmetra. The other woman is tight around her fingers, and though Mercy isn’t moving them much, she doesn’t really feel the need to: Symmetra flutters around her just fine, rolling and gyrating her hips in whatever way gives her the most pleasure. She seems much more focused on eating Sombra out, anyway, and swallowing as much of McCree’s cum as she can.

“Fuck, Sati, you’re so - ah - s-s-ssssoooo good,” Sombra breathes. Her thighs tremble. Her hands shake. She must be close. Must be.

And oh - there it is. Sombra’s head falls back and she breathes in loudly, desperately, trying to refill her lungs as quickly as the breath is knocked out of her. It sounds like she’s been sucker-punched, even more so than when McCree had finished with her. Angela can’t help but smile; she’s never seen anyone enjoy an orgasm quite as much as Sombra.

Mercy looks down at Symmetra, who now has finally pulled herself out from between Sombra’s legs to breathe. She licks her lips, smiling faintly, like she isn’t completely aware of how much she’s betraying her emotions. Angela smiles, too.

She supposes that deserves a reward.

Angela withdraws her fingers. Predictably, Symmetra makes a noise at the sudden feeling of emptiness, but she doesn’t say anything. All protest dies on her tongue when Mercy brings those fingers to her mouth and licks them clean.

“My, you taste good,” she says quietly. Symmetra preens a little bit, forgetting to look disgusted for once. She must be really far-gone. “But I think you’d taste better after you’ve been properly filled, don’t you?”

Symmetra’s ears perk up. Mercy feels McCree twitch inside her, and when she looks over her shoulder at him, his ears have perked up, too.

“That mean what I think it means?”

“Yes, Jesse.” Angela gives him a wicked smile. “But you’ll have to finish with me, first.”

He doesn’t have a choice, really. Not when his knot is so full, so deeply entrenched inside her. Not that he would complain, anyway: McCree is more than happy to continue at his brutal pace, and this time, when the rhythm of his thrusting intensifies, Mercy meets him halfway, grinding herself into him and bouncing her hips on his dick.

“Oh, fuck -- fuck, Ange,” McCree grunts. His hold on her hips tightens even more and he tenses up, curling in on himself even as he continues thrusting into her. “Keep goin’ like that and I’ll--”

But he never finishes his sentence. Angela squeezes down around him and McCree comes, spilling himself inside her and filling her up so much that some of his cum gushes out of her along with her own when she finally comes too.

His knot deflates and he pulls out, only for Sombra to take his place. She’s almost delirious with pleasure, moaning and humming wantonly as she spreads Mercy’s already-gaping hole open and cleans her up. If Sombra had any semblance of restraint before (and she hadn’t), it’s long-gone now.

Angela twitches and squirms against Sombra. She’s still coming down, still over-sensitive, and right on the verge of coming again with Sombra’s skillful tongue working her open. “D-desperate little cumslut, aren’t you?” Angela just barely manages to gasp out. She hears Sombra make a noise behind her, not sure if the other bunny is agreeing with her or if she just likes being called a cumslut.

It hardly matters. McCree takes only a second to gather himself, and when he does and he slides himself into Symmetra with no resistance at all, that’s where Mercy’s full attention goes. She doesn’t even realize as she comes again and again on Sombra’s tongue, she’s so enraptured with watching her big, bad wolf fuck his new little bunny.

Symmetra is not weak. That much is clear in her form alone, lean muscle rippling under smooth skin. She has the body of a dancer, of someone who takes the utmost care of herself. But right now, in McCree’s hold, she looks like little more than a doll, letting him lift her and position her and pound her into the floor. She screams, she moans, she gasps, she wails; and there’s a smile on her face the whole time, like she’s in the utmost ecstasy.

She comes on his cock quickly. Once, twice in rapid succession. It’s not surprising in the least; Mercy and Sombra have both kept her pent up for some time now with no release. It looks like it’s worth it, too, as Symmetra’s eyes roll back in her head and she grasps McCree’s shoulders desperately. McCree leans down and licks a stray fleck of his own cum off her cheek - left over from Sombra, no doubt - and she shivers in his hold.

“That’s it, baby,” he growls over her. “Keep on comin’ for me. Stay nice ‘n’ tight for Daddy.”

Symmetra’s legs come up impossibly high and wrap around McCree’s back. Her flexibility is amazing, and for a moment, Mercy wishes she could bury her face between those legs, but she’d hate to interrupt the good time the two of them - and Sombra - are having. She pushes the thought aside for now, deciding to revisit it when they’re done and she can properly clean Symmetra up, but the thought is renewed again when a new wave of orgasm hits Symmetra and she gushes ejaculate all around herself and McCree.

“Fuck!” McCree leans forward and sucks a mark into Symmetra’s throat as he tenses up one final time, letting himself go and coming inside the last of his three bunnies. Nothing leaks out this time, not until he’s finished and his knot slowly deflates and makes room. When he pulls out, he presses some of the cum that spills from Symmetra’s pussy back inside with his thumb. Symmetra twitches and shivers, still sensitive, but she does not come again.

Sombra finishes cleaning Mercy up, licking the last few drops off her thighs. She pulls away with a kiss to the blonde bunny’s labia, then lightly plucks at her fluffy tail.

“Feel better?” Mercy asks. She, for one, feels like a new woman: refreshed and satisfied, this wave of her mating cycle’s heat dealt with for the time being. It’ll return in a few hours, no doubt, but by then the mission will be over and she’ll have all the time in the world to ride McCree properly.

“Yeah,” Sombra says. She turns her gaze to McCree, who has now stood up. His tail flicks as he readjusts his spent cock. “But I don’t think we’re quite done yet, are we?”

Mercy gives her a questioning look, but quickly catches on when Sombra wiggles her eyebrows. She laughs, shaking her head fondly. “You really are quite the cumslut.”

Sombra shrugs, but the nonchalance is lost in the smirk on her face. “Guilty as charged.”

The two women move over to McCree and, at the same time, drop to their knees and slowly start licking him clean. Symmetra joins them shortly, apparently not wanting to miss out on the chance to reward McCree for doing such a good job for them all.

It’s so strange, tasting four different people on McCree’s cock. At least, Mercy can imagine she can taste all of them. She thinks she might even enjoy it more than McCree, which is saying a lot: the wolf can just barely stay standing under the feeling of three tongues working at him. They’re all careful not to go too hard, though: none of them want to fight over who gets to ride McCree’s knot next.

Angela is confident she’ll win, anyway.

When they finish cleaning McCree off, all three women stand and redress. All at once, they’re uncomfortably reminded of why they were here in the first place, and what still needs to be done.

McCree is the first one to break the silence.

“What say we all just go our separate ways now?” he suggests. “We get on with our mission, you get on with yours.”

“And if we are enemies?” Symmetra counters.

“Well, then, we call it a stalemate and get each other properly next time.” McCree shrugs. “I don’t much like shootin’ ladies. Especially not after I sleep with ‘em.”

Blasé as he is about it, Mercy laughs at the joke. “I agree. I would rather not have to fight after… all of that.”

“Right.” Sombra grins. “Adios, then, Overwatch.”

Mercy and McCree leave the room. A small feeling of dread trickles into the pit of Mercy’s stomach - they really shouldn’t have just walked out of there without doing anything, especially after being identified as Overwatch at the get-go - but she decides that that is a problem for another time.

Said secret is currently lying beneath her, writhing and squirming and gasping for air. Angela smiles down fondly at Sombra and pushes a strand of hair out of her face. “There’s a good girl,” she says, crooning softly as she rolls her hips down into Sombra’s.

The sex is hot and hurried, like always. They don’t know how long they have before somebody knocks on Angela’s door, battered and bruised and bloody from a mission. But there’s something about it, the chance they could be caught at any moment, that their secret could so easily be exposed, that sets Angela’s blood boiling. She’s never thought of herself as much of an exhibitionist, but something about Sombra just brings out the thrill-seeker in her.

And she loves it.

Angela snaps her hips downward, gasping at the feeling of friction between the two of them. There’s just enough contact between them to drive her mad, but not enough to quite get her off. Not yet. And she knows Sombra feels the same, because she’s bucking her hips up desperately, searching for more contact, for Angela to change her position just enough that their clits can rub together directly rather than through the buffer of their labia.

She could easily keep them like this, torturing Sombra by keeping her from the contact she so desperately craves. But Angela decides to live up to her codename, and she reaches down to spread Sombra’s outer lips apart and grind against her clit.

“Fuck!” Sombra gasps. She reaches up to pull Angela down to kiss her. Angela goes willingly, happily slipping her tongue between her lover’s lips and taking. She licks at the roof of Sombra’s mouth, coaxing pretty little moans from deep in her throat; she presses down, hard and insistent, trying to map every little detail of her lover’s mouth. She gives Sombra no room for recourse – and judging by the way she whimpers into her mouth, lips forming unspoken half-words, Sombra doesn’t seem to mind at all.

Mercy slips her hands beneath Sombra’s bra, squeezing and kneading greedily at her breasts. She pulls herself away from Sombra’s mouth to watch, fascinated by how they move in her hands, by the way Sombra arches right off the bed to give her better access.

“I’m sorry, did you say something?” Angela asks, knowing full well Sombra has a hard time keeping her silver tongue sharp when she’s this turned on. It delights her, knowing she’s able to render the usually quick-witted hacker useless with nothing but a touch, a kiss.

“Y-yeah,” Sombra gasps. She glares weakly at her lover. “I said to get the strap.”

“Oh?” Angela pulls back, blinking in surprise for a moment before smirking down at Sombra. Sombra’s hips go still and she watches Mercy with the slowly dawning realization that she isn’t going to get what she wants. “I’m afraid I don’t have it with me right now. Are you telling me you didn’t think to bring one?”

“¡Mierda!” Sombra throws her head back against the bed in frustration. She goes limp beneath Mercy, all the fight suddenly going out of her. Mercy frowns.

That simply will not do.

She takes Sombra’s chin in her hand, forcing their eyes to lock. “Don’t you dare stop now,” she says, voice deep and commanding and scolding. “If you forgot the strap on, then you’ll just have to make do without.”

She lets go and leans back, pressing her pussy more insistently against Sombra’s. She starts to rock her hips again, slowly and steadily, just a taste of what she promises to deliver. Sombra’s eyes go wide as she realizes just what Mercy is trying to do.

“You think that’s gonna work?” she asks, voice laced with clear skepticism. Angela just nods.

“Of course it will. You’re helpless when it comes to me, Sombra. I could refuse to touch you at all and you would still get off.” She pauses her movements for a moment, wicked grin playing about her lips. “Perhaps we should try it?”

“No!” Sombra gasps, reaching up to take Mercy’s hand without thinking. She brings it down to her lips and kisses it, begging and reverent. “No.”

“No? Then what do you say when you want something?” Mercy asks. She smiles down at Sombra, presses a finger between her lips.

“Please.”

“Please what?”

“Please, fuck me!” Sombra’s voice comes out in one raspy breath, her hips bucking against Angela’s once more. “Fuck me, kiss me, anything – please, por favor, just don’t stop touching me!”

Mercy smiles. “Well, if you insist.” She takes a deep breath and starts rocking her hips again, slowly at first, but she picks up the pace gradually, pressing herself faster and harder against Sombra. It doesn’t take too much to get Sombra back to her previous state of arousal; she’s a wet, moaning mess again within a minute.

It’s like she said: Sombra is helpless when it comes to her. She knows it. They both do.

And Angela wouldn’t have it any other way.

She reaches down between the two of them with one hand, parting her labia with two fingers first, then spreading Sombra open as well. She can just see the tip of Sombra’s clit, pink and adorably swollen, poking out from between the two of them. Mercy smiles and grinds down against it, pressing her own to it and gasping out loud at the jolts of electricity it sends through her.

“F-fuck!” Sombra whines. Her hand shakes as she brings it to her mouth, trying to muffle the sounds she’s making. Angela quickly grabs her wrist and pulls it away, pinning it above Sombra’s head.

“No,” she says, though the rasp in her voice betrays her lack of total control at the moment. “I want to hear you.”

“Aaahhh…” Sombra moans and nods frantically, unthinkingly. Mercy leans down and kisses her cheek, and the slick slide of their clits rubbing together as the angle changes sends a shiver through both of them.

She keeps grinding against Sombra, trying her hardest to hold this angle. It feels so good, so perfect, the way Sombra writhes against her. She can already feel her self-control beginning to slip away.

“I’m close, Sombra,” Mercy whispers lowly, directly into her ear. And sure enough, she’s starting to feel the telltale tremble of impending orgasm in her thighs. “Just a little bit longer. Hold on for me, dear. Don’t you dare come before me.”

Sombra nods again, biting her lip and whining. She’s so wet now, it almost feels mean to forbid her from climaxing. But Mercy doesn’t have the patience to worry about that now, not when she’s this close to the edge too.

She takes Sombra’s hand and lifts it to her chest, moaning as she forces Sombra to fondle her breasts. Sombra gets the message loud and clear, and soon she’s taking the initiative, rubbing her thumbs over Mercy’s nipples just the way she likes it. Angela gasps and groans softly, almost imperceptibly – she’s always been a fairly quiet lover – and soon she’s there, right there, standing on the very verge of orgasm.

“Sombra, I – Ah!” Her whole body feels like it’s on fire, sparks igniting and spreading through her. Every sense and sensation are almost painfully heightened - she can feel a trickle of sweat fall down the side of her face, can feel the heat radiate from Sombra’s pussy. The sounds of Sombra’s moaning, of the wet slide between their bodies, are all she can focus on until she can’t anymore, until her ears are ringing and her vision is going white and she’s coming, hard and mindlessly, gushing all over Sombra.

Sombra cries out, fists clenching and entire body moving to force more contact. She must know Angela has just come, there’s no way she didn’t feel it – so Angela nods weakly, whispering “Yes, yes, Sombra, love, come for me, come for me,” a desperate mantra, over and over under she feels Sombra go tense and slack and tense again beneath her. Another splash of wetness bursts between them, and that’s it, that’s what she wanted – to feel Sombra come, to watch Sombra let herself go in waves against her.

Mercy relaxes on top of her girlfriend, and when Sombra’s long, drawn-out orgasm finally ebbs away, she smiles down at her. Sombra looks up, eyes glassy and unfocused. She smiles lazily and adoringly up at Mercy, reaching up to push damp, sticky bangs out of her eyes.

“Fuck, you’re good to me, you know that?” Sombra asks.

Mercy laughs. “I know,” she says. “Not that you deserve it, you naughty girl.”

“Hey.” Sombra flicks Mercy’s nose. Her voice is snappy, but her smile is anything but. “Save the sweet talk for sex.”

Mercy raises an eyebrow and looks around the room, exaggeratedly pretending she has no idea what she’s doing there. When she stops, she grins down wickedly at Sombra and traces a hand over her stomach. “You say that as if I’m finished with you.”

“Aren’t you?” There’s something hopeful in Sombra’s voice, something excited, like she can’t believe she might get to come again. With a laugh, Mercy slides off her, backing up and spreading Sombra’s legs wide open.

“Not even close.” And she dives down, pressing her tongue back down between Sombra’s labia, licking a long, slow line up to her clit, lapping up the remnants of her ejaculate like sweet nectar.