i'd probably still adore you with your hands around my neck,

[oldtownroad]

or i did last time i checked.

 

Comments

[sonicarrow]

[Perhaps he should have clarified — Entertaining, when he was quiet. Hanzo did not dignify the initial comment with a response, his expression stony as he waited for the other man to comply. It was not arrogance to state that Hanamura’s security was heavy, as was demanded by the clan’s elders; he would expect that the remainder of his unit would need to be stationed relatively close if they were to be effective back-up, but still far enough so as not to arouse suspicion.

Then, they had also allowed their operative to perform a stealth mission whilst wearing spurs, so there was no real accounting for their aptitude.

It was a convincing enough performance on the cowboy’s part — At least enough to buy them some time, uninterrupted. Temporarily satisfied, Hanzo lowered the blade ever so slightly, though he made no move to sheathe it just yet. A quiet reminder as to the gravity of the situation, much as the other attempted to make light of it.]

Hmm.

[There was no need to answer just yet, as McCree spoke more than enough for the pair of them, and he hadn’t fully decided what he intended for him. Perhaps this was simply his vain attempt to prolong the break in monotony, clinging to even the most temporary of reprieves; a moment he could wrest control back, even for a short while, under the pretense of carrying out his duty.

So long as he was being honest, incessant mouth aside, the man was attractive. His clothing was ridiculous, and somehow, the heavy scent of cigarette smoke suited him, in a rugged sort of way. Hanzo chalked it up as some sort of misplaced lust, stemming from the thrill of facing someone who might actually prove a worthy opponent. He wouldn’t deny that he would have enjoyed squaring off against him properly, if only to see if he was as good as the reports claimed.

He would need to be.

The act of breaking the tracker, however, did have his attention. The move was somewhere between reckless and daring, though the line between the two was often blurred.]

Bold words. Do you value your life so little?

[Thus far, he had proven himself cooperative, if nothing else. More so than Hanzo had expected really, and after his latest stunt… There was nothing to say that he didn’t have a second tracker, but it was a good show nonetheless. A smart tactic, if he was looking to garner his confidence.

Testing the waters further, he closed what little distance that remained between them, his left hand moving to rest on the grip of the revolver, maintaining his gaze as he did. He could certainly try to stop him if he wished — Hell, Hanzo was practically daring him to, the ghost of a smirk playing on his lips.

Try him, gunslinger.]

[oldtownroad]

[ if reaching into his pocket for the tracker poses no problem for Hanzo, then Jesse figures he can take out his smokes without being hassled. it's been one, if not two packs a day at this point in his life, and going more than an hour without lighting up felt damn near impossible. the need claws at his throat like an ugly beast trying to crawl out from the darkness of his mouth; he scratches at his neck in an attempt to soothe it. ]

heh. Believe it or not, the price on my head is a cool sixty mil. That's what, chump change to ya though, right?

[ hands disappear into his front pocket, hidden by the fabric draped over his shoulder, and reappears with a half empty pack of American Spirits and a metal lighter. he holds the cigarette in his mouth as he flicks the lid off, striking the flint wheel with a meaty thumb. Jesse then cups the flame, protecting it from the breeze, and dips his head until the tip pulses to life with orange embers. one long drag later, the smoke fills the space in his lungs, and he tips his chin up to exhale towards the Hanamura night sky. sweet nicotine rolls through his body until that beast that lives in his mouth crawls back to where it came from, and he finally opens chestnut eyes that rest once again on the Shimada's face. the lighter is shoved back into his pocket without a word.

a small smile, with the curl of a smirk at the edges. it's apparent that Jesse Mccree likes what he sees. even when its coming towards him with extreme intent and a fierce look in his eyes.

he lets him have this. let's the Shimada lord get a good grip on his gun for a second or two, returning the gaze mere inches from his face with the same intensity. it's funny how Shimada can look down his nose at him even though Jesse's got several inches on the crime prince but Jesse forgets to laugh.

instead, the cowman grabs him by his stupid vest and shoves him roughly against the brick wall. debris falls to the ground from the impact, sprinkling the brim of his hat. the cigarette still hangs loosely from his lips, smooth fabric balled in one fist, the other holding the hidden knife to his carotid artery.

through his parted mouth, he blows a puff of gray smoke into his target's face. ] That ain't gonna fly. Didn't your daddy teach you never to touch another man's gun?

[sonicarrow]

[His fingers slipped from the gun as he was jerked backwards, the impact driving the air from his lungs.

It wasn’t that he hadn’t seen the move coming. It wasn’t even that Hanzo couldn’t have resisted, had he wanted to; the katana was still gripped tightly in his opposite hand, and while unwieldy at this range and position, it could still have done damage. A strike to the correct area, even lacking its usual precision, would have given him the small window he’d need.

As he momentarily struggled to catch his breath, a situation not helped by the smoke, he didn’t break eye contact.]

If you had the authority to kill me, this would not have been a reconnaissance mission.

[It was stated simply, the hoarse quality of his voice doing nothing to dampen that insufferable, arrogant lilt. He tipped his chin to expose his throat further, and as if to prove his point, he pushed back against the pressure of the blade — Just enough to break skin, blood beading at the tip.

Regardless of how the clan viewed him now, Hanzo was by no means delicate. While his father was in power, he had been allowed to train as anyone else would, if not harder; he knew that he would never be the favourite son, but it had not stopped him from striving for perfection in other areas. When he was not fulfilling his other responsibilities, he had worked tirelessly to master his skills; skills that would assist him, given his intended path.

Now, the few times he could convince others to spar with him, they held back, pulled their punches. They feared him for his status, not his ability. At one point, he might have turned to Genji — But as the rift between them continued to grow, he also lost touch with the only one left in Hanamura who treated him like a person, and not a goddamned figurehead.

Maybe that was how he found himself there now, inches from potential death, and all he could do was revel in the fact that someone had the balls to treat him with something less than respect. It was foolish at best, dangerous at worst, and it was more alive than he had felt in months.]

You do not strike me as suicidal, Agent McCree. How do you see this playing out?

[oldtownroad]

If I had the authority to kill you, [ Jesse imitates the steel in the Shimada's voice as much as he can, reveling in the gasp that slips through his mouth. he thinks briefly that it'd be better if it was his tongue instead so he could show his dominance in that way, too.

because that's what the Yakuza prince craved, isn't it? he didn't even have to read his file to know that. Jesse lacked enough fingers and toes to count how many men he's crossed paths with that harbored this same secret desire to be knocked down a few pegs. the view from such a high pedestal must really be nice, but he figures it sure must get lonely up there.

his voice is but a low growl when he continues. ]

then I'd already be havin' my way with ya.

[ however it's not long until the Shimada proves himself to be different from the rest of the men Jesse's done this same tango with. while others would melt under the cowman's seize of control, he rose to the challenge; pushed back instead of crumbled- right into the knife.

a guttural sound escapes him, like a groan being swallowed back down, when hot crimson meets cool silver. Jesse's pleased to know that the seemingly flawless Shimada son could in fact bleed, but he'd much rather like to know if he can make him cry.

he finds himself breaking their eye contact to stare down at his lips and the thin line they were pressed into. he licks at his own, digging the knife just a little bit closer to coax more blood out, watching it roll down porcelain skin until it soaks into the white collar of his button up shirt. ]

If I tell ya, will it still come true? [ the laugh that follows is less humorous than it is cruel. if you give Jesse McCree an inch, he'll go ahead take the whole mile. ] How 'bout I just show ya.

[ Jesse removes the knife from the clan leader's neck, only to use the tip to tilt his chin back up. he's surprised that such a dangerous man has been able to keep the skin there relatively spotless, no nicks or bruises indicating that another person had been there recently. he can safely assume that no one's claimed him in a long while, and that thought, plus the fact that Hanzo knows his name, is enough to push him over the line that has been holding him back from taking what he wants.

the small distance between their bodies is finally closed when Jesse presses his hips against Hanzo's, grinding just enough for the other man to feel his growing erection beneath thick black denim while his face hovers mere centimeters away. ]

Think ya forgot to check for one last weapon.

[sonicarrow]

Would you?

[He flexed his wrist, bringing the edge of the katana to rest against the back of Jesse’s knee, just hard enough to make its presence known. A silent reminder that he was not in full control, and that it was by Hanzo’s will that the situation not escalate further — There were still limits to his power over him. Had he simply wanted someone to relinquish control to, Hanzo could have had that several times over. But a man with strength enough to take it, and stand as his equal? That was a rarity.

The sting of the blade barely registered, and he didn’t flinch as it bit deeper into flesh. Years of training had numbed him, prepared him to weather far harsher punishments should he ever find himself in an interrogation situation — But then, this was less threat than it was foreplay, and they both knew it. He recognized the hunger in the other man’s gaze, the sounds he made. He didn’t need to feel the press of his erection to know where this was headed in his mind, and Hanzo wouldn’t deny that his interest was piqued.

It was not a dance he had done often, but he knew the steps. He had married himself to his duty, though his father had spoken of trading him off to some political match more than once. Loveless arrangements, meant to further the needs of the clan, which had fortunately never panned out, for one reason or another. Even if they had, Hanzo would have accepted it as an act of necessity, yet another part of himself handed freely for the sake of Sojiro’s legacy. It had never been about what he wanted, and for years, he had accepted that truth without complaint.

But he wanted this.

There was no doubt that he was playing with fire, and it was far too easy to get burned — But he was a dragon, and was that not his birthright? An empire had been placed on his shoulders, and while he would never allow his own selfish desire to threaten that, he would give himself this. One momentary lapse, one night in exchange for a lifetime sacrificed to their cause.

A smirk curved his lips as he allowed Jesse to guide his head back up, even as his eyes flickered downward. There was no hesitation as he arched his back, welcoming the friction with a throaty chuckle of his own.]

It would seem so.

[His fingers slipped around the grip of the other man’s sidearm, pressing up against that boundary once more.]

Perhaps I was not convinced you know how to use it.

[oldtownroad]

Ha ... again with damn the sword. You ever tried getting what ya want without it, sweetheart? Your pretty face could get ya far. [ the designer clothes, the slicked back hair, the expensive watch -- the smell of his cologne. little pieces of a person that don't mean jack to Jesse separately are all coming together to make the Shimada heir a very irresistible man. he knows whatever this is can't extend past tonight, but he can already sense how hard pulling away will be once they're done.

he'll be sure to get a few rounds out of him to make it worth his while, or at least the cuts and scrapes he'll be getting soon.

it's plain as day that they want the same things out of each other-- a quick lay, a hard fuck -- even if the Shimada is being an asshole about it now. Jesse McCree wouldn't have all his limbs and his boner still in tact and a part of his body if he didn't want this too.

he hopes to god that Reyes and the rest of them won't come looking for their unresponsive agent and catch him with his pants around his ankles. it wouldn't be the first time, but it'd be hard to explain away his company. what's the punishment for sleeping with the target, anyways? ] What, you gonna show me?

[ the other man's got his hand on Jesse's piece again, and while it chips at his pride just a smidge, the Blackwatch agent does him better by dropping his face towards his craned neck and flicks his tongue against the cut there, all while his metal hand palms against the gangster's crotch. ] Or am I gonna show you?

[sonicarrow]

[Compliments were a dime a dozen — So long as he was a Shimada, people would pay him lip service. And yet, there was something admittedly satisfying, hearing it coming from the cowboy’s mouth. The sincerity was questionable, but Hanzo suspected that had it come from anyone else, that American drawl would not have sounded even half as charismatic.]

I thought you knew who I was. Do you think I require either, to get what I want?

[This being the rare exception. Now, his name was more detriment than benefit; he could imagine the price for fraternizing with the enemy was quite steep for the both of them. But the appeal of this – and of the man himself – was that it was not the easy choice.

It wasn’t often that the scion was caught by surprise, but the sudden heat of the tongue against his throat managed it. He hissed through clenched teeth, shoulders tensing as his fingers instinctively tightened around the grip of the other man’s revolver. There was a part of him that wanted nothing more than to grab Jesse by the hair, to force him back and taste the blood in his mouth — An option he wasn’t ruling out just yet.

But, if there'd been any lintering question as to whether they were on the same page, it could be put to rest; with the way he was grabbing him, there was no chance Jesse couldn't feel that Hanzo was just as hard as he was.]

You tell me, Agent.

[The katana had not been forgotten. He made one last nudge with the weapon before he released it, the sound of metal striking pavement echoing loudly off the alley walls. There was a deliberateness to the timing, a pause to make sure that the other knew it had been a conscious decision, and not some startled reaction. Less surrender, and more a statement of what they both already knew — He didn’t need it.]

I do not like to be disappointed.