It should be a crime to look that good in a pair of leather pants. Thick thighs that ripple with muscle every time he shifts his weight, tightening the leather over the generous globes of his ass. Couple that with knee-high boots that conform to his calves and a thick padded biker’s jacket and you have a mouthwatering sight.
You’re barely holding back your drool with your teeth digging into your lower lip. The other women by your side, also admiring the gaggle of leather-clad men before you aren’t so subtle. Hana is whistling and Sombra is cat-calling loudly, directing their lewd attentions to the most embarrassed of the group. Ana just smirks, nodding to Reaper and Soldier 76 who just respond with their middle fingers.
You? You just have eyes for one man who doffs his wide-brimmed hat at you with a teasing wink. He straddles the hoverbike between this strong thighs and spreads them as far as they can go, stretching tight over the noticeable bulge in the crotch of his pants. Like a homing beacon, your eyes dart in on it and stare greedily, pupils widening as you notice it twitch ever so gently.
That’s it. You let go of your chewed up bottom lip and stride forth, unheeding of the loud whoops from the women as you seize your man’s hair in hand. McCree grins as he’s hauled to your lips and kissed like the world is about to end. He wraps an arm around you and pulls you close, his powerful form bracing both you and the hoverbike as his strength almost pulls you into his lap.
“What did I say about the leather pants, McCree?” You moan softly against his lips and clamp one hand around the back of his neck as the other, out of sight of the others, sneaks down to grope at his ass.
The cowboy turned biker groans and kisses you back hungrily, whimpering against your lips, “That I look goddamned hot in it?” Uncaring of the company around you, he rocks his ass into your grip and uses your knee to alleviate the painful pressure of his rock hard cock straining against the crotch of his pants.
That’s one. And there’s another. “That you’re not allowed to wear it outside the bedroom.” Your hand shifts back to his hair and you tilt his head back so he looks up at you with a dazed expression, unheeding of the crowd still around you. “Because gods help me, I’m going to rip it off your body in the next ten minutes, crowd or not.”
He licks his lips and growls seductively up at you, pulling you onto the bike behind him. “You got it, boss!” With only a smug salute at the amused crowd, he fires up the hoverbike and roars off into the horizon. Fuck the coffee run, he’s got a mistress to fuck silly.
Why McCree shouldn’t be allowed to wear leather pants
Published
Toad's Cave 