Thread: Overwatch, Reaper and Windowmaker (Vulgrim x allycat)

This seems appropriate, lol. It took longer than it should have for Gerard to realize something was wrong. Horribly, terribly, impossibly wrong. This wasn't satisfying some fetish anymore, this wasn't getting lost in the throes of passion. This was something else entirely. When her legs squeezed around his head, thighs pressing in to his neck and cutting off the air, his heart skipped a few beats. At first, he didn't want to believe it. Couldn't believe it. But at the end, it clicked -- it clicked hard, and it clicked fast, and, truth be told, Gerard didn't feel like fighting at all. If he died, he died. If not, he'd have to kill his own wife with his own hands. But he had to fight -- and he did, for a while. But before the life faded from him, before he finally stopped all of the struggling, he thought to himself. I'm sorry, Amelie, was what he wanted to say. He just wanted to look at her one last time -- to tell her he didn't blame her, to let her know that this wasn't her fault. I still love you. But the words didn't come, because they couldn't. He couldn't see, nor breathe, or do much of anything at all except make this easier for her. A small part of him hoped and believed that Amelie was still a person, deep down inside the widow's heart. After a few moments, Gerard stopped fighting -- and everything was still. Death had taken Gerard that day, though Widowmaker seemed intent on taking him now. Reaper watched as the woman crawled to him, and she could swear that his mask was almost smirking. He watched her like she was some sort of pet, until she stubbornly reassured him that she wasn't. The man chuckled once more. He appreciated that kind of attitude -- admired it, even. She'd be so much more pathetic and so much less desirable if she could be tamed, he thought. When she moved to straddle him, hands on his chest, he simply looked up at her, with the subtle tilt of his head. No noises, no words, no anything, until she spoke, and then he laughed. Mm, Reaper answered, deciding to humor her. Fine. She could have this one -- they were on the same level, after all. When the woman took his girth in to her nimble hand, he purred again, looking down from the small knife she'd produced to where she had her grp on him. As Widowmaker lined herself up with his throbbing erection, he placed his hands on her hips and listened as she spoke again. Gladly, the man said in his low, malicious tone. Fingers moved to rear from waist, and he took hold of Widowmaker's thick, round ass, and even Reaper had to stop and admire it for a moment. He gave each cheek a rough squeeze, claws digging in to her flesh, and as she sank down on him, he groaned, and a hand brought itself back to give her juicy rear a loud spank, though the catsuit didn't allow for as much contact as he would've liked. Reaper sank his claws in to the material and tore to either side, until it ripped apart around her shapely flank. His fingers kneaded the now-bare skin, and he reached back once more to repeat the action, except this time he was greeted by a louder noise and a satisfying bounce of what she had to offer. When her chest was pushed to his face, Reaper let out a low growl, happy with the sight and feel of them, though somewhat annoyed by the teasing. He buried his mask between them, then gripped her ponytail again, pulling her head down slightly so that they were eye to eye as she rode him. The man's cock buried itself in to her all of a sudden as he raised his hips to meet her own, hilting himself inside of Widowmaker's narrow canal. Do you want me to? he challenged, though she'd get the sense that his question was mostly rhetorical. How curious was she to see behind that mask of his really ? He released her hair then leaned back again, getting a better look at her. Reaper started thrusting up and in to his little spider, watching her breasts as they bounced with the motion. He pulled one hand from her ass to grope at them, giving each of Widowmaker's tits a rough squeeze. Again, she was spanked, turning her bluish skin a bright shade of red. His cock filled every little spot as it continued its invasion, filling the assassin up entirely. Every so often, he'd groan or pant with pleasure, frustration, and sometimes both, though Reaper hadn't given her a genuine moan just yet. That'd require something extraordinary.