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Tender, featherlight touches graced the surface of Genji's skin as he shifted on the bare pallet he slept on. Inside his little chamber of the quiet monastery, rays of pale morning sunlight beamed in through the pillars outside of his window and fell softly on his dark eyes. There was no sound but his own breaths and another's, the shuffling of the sheets, and a single bird singing through the loggia on the Eastern face of the mountain.
Genji's fingers ran up the soft arm of someone else's. The gap between them was closed for a kiss, his blurry vision trained on the vague form of the person administering a sensitive touch to his check. A hand cupped the side of his face. Fingers lightly stroked his jaw; he felt the skin give to her. It was warm amongst the brisk air of the monastery. He felt disconnected from his own body, almost experiencing in third-person the explorative hands of the both of them finding themselves under hems and necklines.
He tried to say something. But his own words were caught in his mouth as he went in for another kiss, more passionately— What am I doing? He wanted to ask. His body seemed to be moving on its own, slipping his sweatshirt off of himself to toss it aside. Golden light filled the chamber and onto the uncertain form he held in his lap before him, he grazed her neck with his lips, and lost his sense of reality as her hands ran through his thick hair. He'd loved his mornings there ever since Zenyatta had reshaped him. And now he was sharing one with someone he cared about.
Inside, he felt tiny jolts down his belly each time her fingers brushed his bare thigh, or kneaded the giving tissue in her own fervor. His eyes fell heavily shut. A sense of peace overcame him as she pulled him in toward her nude body.
When they entangled down on the pallet, her ministrations brought his awareness to his own body. Strong muscles and sinew. Supple, healthy skin. Flexible limbs. He reacted involuntarily to her, her beautiful shape; the placid presence of the monastery's quiet halls put his wandering mind at ease, and finally, he rose from where he buried his face into her shoulder, and wanted to look her in the eye as they took things farther than they ever had.
Genji saw her face and hesitated for the span of a millisecond. All sound in the room came to a sudden end.
His red eyes blinked open. They glared faintly against the darkness.
It was night.
Genji woke abruptly in his bed, the chamber dark. With only one lonely band of moonlight peeking through the window, he came-to from sleep, staring up at the tall ceiling. He felt confused, as if he'd been taken out of but then shoved back into his own body, made to stay in it until he could no longer. He reached to touch his jaw, and felt nothing but solid metal against his hard fingertips. No live skin, only the replacement the good doctor had given him. In his daze, he lifted his arm to inspect it. There was no visible muscle flexion—just the metal plating, hiding the tissue he had left underneath.
Underneath the covers, he felt the residual sensations of his lower half start to dissipate. He was warm, a little bothered. Surely, if he had looked in the mirror then, he'd have seen a blush dusting the tough skin of his cheeks.
"A dream…" he eventually muttered, relaxing against the modest pallet underneath him. But his sheets were empty, aside for him, and the monastery cold against his scarred face.
He'd dreamed that his former body was back. That the night with his brother had never happened, while somehow, still finding himself content in Nepal with his current master. Not only that, but with a girl, someone who he now recognized from the figure in his dream. It was her.
The way the early morning light scattered on her face, the sound of her small breaths in the quiet room. Every sound echoed, amplified in his ears. And while his meeting with her was short—inconsequential to her, probably, he thought—she had stayed on his mind. All the way back to Nepal her face had followed him, cropping up at the most random of times he found his mind wandering. Even Tekhartha Zenyatta had noticed and prodded at him about it, but Genji was not going to let up on that one secret of his. Zenyatta was not exactly privy to all that went on in a human's mind; with the parts that made Genji a man still intact, he found himself since meeting her…distracted.
His mind went back to her form. Tempting. Tantalizing. In his time at the temple, he'd learned to forego most of his idle desires that didn't serve much purpose. But the one never left him. He draped his forearm lazily over his eyes, his hand sliding down his metal-plated abdomen.
She lowered herself onto his thighs as he wrapped his cybernetic arms around her from behind, his erection bobbing against her pubic bone. He rested his visor against her shoulder and felt up her stomach until his hands ran across the swell of her chest. There was a fear in the back of his mind that he didn't truly know how strong this body was, or if he knew how to control it, when he inevitably lost himself in the feeling of it all. He looked up over her shoulder when he felt a hand probing his helmet, looking for the release system at the back of his head. Mindfully, he cupped her breast, and led her with his other hand to the back of his helmet. He guided her on how to release the hydraulics, his visor coming apart with a hiss as the pressure escaped. It blew against her shoulder. He helped her take the helmet and place it on the floor next to them.
When Genji's mouth was free, he planted a kiss on her shoulder blade. Her head tilted back, elated. On her exposed neck, he placed a hand to grasp gently, and let her give in to the touch.
His ears perked. He listened briefly for any noise near him in the temple before judging that he was safe to do what he was about to do. He had come to terms with his new body, but that did not stop him from having infrequent moments wherein his brain saw it as a foreign object, something that was strange to interact with. He felt along the figure-lines down his cybernetics until he reached his groin, breathed deeply as his hand wrapped around his cock.
She was facing him. The warmth between her spread thighs surrounded him as he settled on his knees between them, sat up to share an intimate moment of full vulnerability between the two of them.
"I know I never seem naked enough," he admitted as she leaned against his solid body, admiring the enduring power of his enhanced physique. "Sometimes, I wish you could take this suit off of me…to be like you, on your level." He motioned towards her, and she knew he was referencing her own nudeness. Existing in his cyborg body without clothes didn't feel the same as being without clothes when his body was all-human.
The act of her disarming him of his protective helmet oddly excited him. To have someone's fingers follow the curvature of his head, then remove him of the one thing that often hid his identity. Genji, under there. In the distance of his mind, he mused, " Maybe it is erotic, in a way, to be stripped like this."
Genji relinquished the lead to her off-and-on. Through their gyrating, grinding against each other in the heavy buildup of desire, they resituated. Now, she kneeled before him, and turned around to press her back against his sturdy chest. He didn't care one second what she did or where she went, as long as some part of him was in contact with her—close to her, feeling her. Before he knew it, both of his hands were placed on her breasts kneading the flesh as he feverishly kissed along the smooth line of her delicate shoulder.
She grabbed his hands, leading them down to her body. When she felt them traveling down her lower belly, she slipped one behind herself to stroke the length of his cock. "I want to touch your body, let me kiss you," she whispered as she turned her head to meet his face, feeling his hot breath against her mouth, "now, touch mine."
She trusted him fully to slip his fingers down into the wet flesh between her legs. She slid off of his lap where he knelt, laid on her back, and her thighs. Genji knew that invitation well and crouched between her legs to dip his face low. Without even thinking, he wrapped his hands around her thighs tightly. She jumped at the sensation of his lips wrapping around her clit, sucking the bud as the tip of his tongue swirled over it deftly. The metallic surface of his chin rubbed against her entrance. Her squirms made him stiffen as he licked and sucked the parts he'd gotten to know in detail, his tongue leaving nothing undiscovered.
A soft groan left him. He quickly muffled it, his grip around his shaft tightening. Sometime during his daydream, he'd fumbled for the oil that he kept nearby for polishing. The slick coating under his wrapped hand sent a pleasurable shiver up through him, his legs tightening as he imagined her on top of him at that very moment. How hot and wet she would feel, contemplating momentarily in his dream-like high whether she would ride, or if he would take the lead and grab her hips—he wanted to think it would have been a mixture of both.
A pang of embarrassment suddenly hit him as he realized how far it was going. For someone he'd only spent a week with in between trips, his work taking him all over and hiding in between as a fugitive of Blackwatch, feelings had started to grow. He had your contact. That was enough of a security deposit for him to leave without feeling totally dismal. But when the job was done and it was time to go home, he couldn't bring himself to call for one last night to spend with her, concerned that she would not want anything to do with his cybernetic body, and left early that morning.
"[Y/N]..."
God, how he missed company on nights like these.
In his mind, her breasts bounced as she popped her hips up and down on him. The noises were beyond x-rated and highly inappropriate for a place of spiritual enlightenment, but with every drop of her hips he hit her back walls, her pussy dripping wet. His head fell back in pleasure as he heaved for breath amidst her onslaught. But not for more than a few seconds did his eyes leave her perfect body, lustful to capture it every way they could. He didn't want to lose sight of her again.
A stifled curse escaped his lips as he felt a surge of ecstasy rush down his body, where his hand gripped his cock to pump out the last few wet strokes he had left in him. He came hard to the thought of flipping them around, deliriously laughing at his excitement as he finished inside her, nails scratching at his muscular back and moaning with every snap of his hips.
His cock twitched. He felt his brows had furrowed intensely as he'd lost himself in the fantasy. Only training had recently left him so breathless, so hot in such a cold place, and so drained. The waves of the high dissipated smoothly as he came down back to reality, the image of her rolling over to face him, face covered in blushing. Her plushy chest, round hip. He rode out the residual climax, slowly pumping his pelvis into his cupped hand as the last of his seed spilled out.
Still, nothing compared to looking over at the space on his pallet, and seeing it empty. And the sun breaking dimly over the windowsill above his head. It was morning. Rather than the golden wash from his dream, it was a foggy blue daybreak. Six A.M.
He sighed.
It was probably time to get up and meditate.