"I should kill you now for being so pathetic."
The rifle is raised. Down past the end of the barrel, he stands. In the sight, his head is locked in the crosshair.
"Now, now… Would Talon be happy with you if you did that?" Reaper questions, his tone mocking.
"I'd like to think so."
A pause.
"Widow, put the gun down."
She lowers it slowly and reluctantly, still staring him down. She sighs and walks to a table nearby. The rifle is set down carefully.
The room they stand in is part of an underground hideout, one of Talon's many secret locations. This particular one is small. The main room, where they stand, is a common area large enough to accommodate around a dozen people comfortably. There is a small kitchen. Bare counters and tables line most of the perimeter. There are two doors in the corner on the far side of the room. One leads to a radio room with an exit and the other, a hallway attached to several modest living quarters. Everything about the place is bleak and chrome.
"You jeopardized our mission and now they are alert to us," Widowmaker begins.
"It was a misstep."
She crosses the room to him as she speaks. "Well we cannot afford 'missteps.' The entire point was to go unnoticed. We could have been in right now. We would have the hostage by the throat," she is right in front of him now, "You are pitiful."
Reaper's mouth twitches in agitation underneath his mask. His head is a swirl of emotions.
"It could've happened to either of us," he manages in an even tone.
"No, you make excuses instead of owning up to your inadequacy."
They had worked together a numerous amount of times by this point. In every objective, they fell into perfect sync. When they ran into issues, they were problems beyond their control. What had happened today, only an hour before, was Reaper's fault and he knew it.
In the previous weeks, he had begun to question his motives, his purpose. He'd been running off rage from his past for so long. He wondered if it was just a low point or if maybe he was finally tired of it.
He is so isolated from everything. The conflicting feelings of the joys of a world he used to be a part of and the anger toward that life that had turned him into this. Always living in the shadows, watching people enjoy themselves on the streets despite everything going on. They have companionship, they have family. He wonders if that's something he could ever have or if he's too far gone to go back.
Regardless of all this, he tries to convince himself that it is not what he wants. Reaper accepts Talon's request to infiltrate a notorious organization thinking that it will remind him of why he enjoys this life. When the day comes, his mind is nothing but fog. He is unfocused, clumsy, and out of sync. Because of his inability to get it together, he has failed Widowmaker, Talon, and himself.
And although Widowmaker is his partner only on occasion, he is reluctant to admit that she is the closest person in the world to him. Not a friend and not the slightest bit a reassuring character, the only significant person in his life. And as she stands in his face demeaning him for all the wrongs he knows he has already committed, his blood boils, his head hurts, and he refuses to submit to this attitude.
"Don't talk down to me, I've been doing this far longer than you have," Reaper replies, anger starting to creep into his voice.
"Is that right? Then explain why I am so much better."
Reaper instinctively shoots out and grabs her roughly by the arm. "Let go of me," she says trying to pull back, but he holds her firm, digging the claws of his glove into her skin. He is shaking, unable to decide if it's nerves or anger. He wants to hit her but can't bring himself to. They remain like this in a moment of suspension.
In a haze, he starts walking toward Widowmaker, his arm still locked in place and holding hers, forcing her to walk backwards. She could retaliate, but she doesn't and instead watches him intently as they move, alert and curious.
Within a matter of seconds, Widowmaker feels the edge of a counter on her backside. She continues to watch Reaper as he releases her arm, and picks her up to swiftly set her on the counter. He places his hands on her knees and spreads them, stepping into the space they create.
She smirks, amused. She leans forward to the side of his head and says softly, "I see. Need to release a bit of frustration, oui?" She thinks him weak for needing this kind of release and her disappointment in him remains, but he is still her partner for the rest of the mission. With the added stress that will be on them tomorrow to remedy the situation, Widowmaker decides she can allow him what she believes to be a momentary fix.
Reaper wordlessly removes his gloves and extra accessories, tossing them to the side. He reaches up to his mask and removes this also. He pulls the hood down last, letting the entire cloak fall to the floor, feeling more exposed by these gestures than anything. Despite the feeling, Reaper appears confident and stern.
Widowmaker is numbly interested. She reaches out to let a piece of his hair slip through her fingers. "I had no idea it was so long," she comments absentmindedly.
He watches her as she does this. When she loses interest in his shoulder-length hair, she looks up to him. They make eye contact for the first time like this. She has never seen his face, scarred, definitive, and with the same facial hair he has sported all his life.
Reaper reaches his hand up to her face, but hesitates, shrinks back, and then deciding, places it on her cheek. He pulls her face forward to his and kisses her softly and slowly. He slips his tongue into her mouth and lets his other hand move along her side.
Widowmaker is complying with his motions, but is not very invested in the situation. She boringly looks around the room. Reaper, on the other hand, is growing increasingly taken with it. He grips her body more seriously and kisses her deeper with an intense feeling of need. Widowmaker is surprised by the passion. She ends up closing her eyes to focus on the kiss so that she can keep up with the other.
In the heat of their make-out, he takes Widowmaker's helmet off and places it on the counter behind them. He pulls her off the counter to the ground, presses himself against her, and then begins to slide her clothing off. Reaper removes everything, all the while kissing her mouth and her body in between.
Once finished, he picks her back up and onto the counter. Reaper's heart is racing and now he's aching with desire. Reaper can't even grasp how long it has been since he was with someone intimately. He undoes his belt and pulls his pants down while lazily kissing Widowmaker. Accomplished, he takes the time to rake down her body with his gaze. Widowmaker watches him pick her legs up, pull her to the edge of the surface, and guide himself into her entrance.
Reaper flinches slightly as he first enters her. She's wet and tight but, much like the rest of her body, is mildly cold to the touch. It's deterring. Convinced to push past it, he leans into her, kissing her neck as he picks up speed. The friction and his own pleasure become enough to ignore it.
As he thrusts in and out of her, Reaper attempts to rub her clitoris with his thumb. The angle is awkward and it's difficult to maintain the two motions at once, so he breathes out "Play with yourself."
Widowmaker, rolling her eyes, reluctantly places her middle finger on the spot, idly moving in circles. Her lack of interest starting to irritate him, Reaper growls "Do it faster." She obeys.
Between Reaper's breathing and the sound of their bodies smacking together, there is no other noise. Determined to make Widowmaker react, he starts slamming into her harder.
At first she can handle it. But he doesn't let up. Then he uses one hand to grab the back of her head and pull her forward into a kiss again. Between the kissing, the penetration, and her own motions, she can't control her breathing anymore and lets out little gasps into his mouth.
Reaper smirks to himself, releasing her head. Both hands gripping her legs again, uses them to go as deep and as fast as possible. Widowmaker's eyes are closed genuinely in pleasure now. She lets out a moan and immediately bites her lip to try and stop.
Reaper takes the rare opportunity to observe her without her mindfulness of it. He admires how truly beautiful she is, despite messed up conditions they mutually share. It's not like he hadn't thought of her in this way before, that she was attractive, but there was no space for it. And he knows that there still shouldn't be any space for it. But nonetheless, he caved. He needed to feel someone, he had to take out all the frustration on something.
Interrupting his thoughts, Widowmaker starts to feel tighter around his shaft. He maintains the speed, resolved to make her come, but trying with difficulty to hold back his own release. She's rubbing herself as fast as she can, focused.
After another 30 seconds of build-up passes, Widowmaker comes hard around Reaper's cock. She can't hold back the moans she releases as her lower half convulses. Her orgasm continues longer as he wraps her legs around his back and relentlessly pounds into her, now convinced that he can come as well.
He has his head against her shoulder and his hands gripping her tightly. He grunts into her skin as he finishes inside her. He keeps thrusting until he has emptied himself completely. Then they remain tangled together as they both catch their breath.
He pulls his cock out from her and moves to lean on the countertop beside her, still spent. Once the initial, pleasurable sensation subsides, he is left feeling even more hollow than before. It is physically satisfying, but was only mentally so for the duration of the act. Reality once again returns. A lower low and more confliction of emotions than before.
Meanwhile Widowmaker, more satisfied than she would like to admit, hops off the counter. She gathers her things from the floor and casually walks off to the shower in the dormitory as she says:
"I expect better performance from you tomorrow."