In the corner of the room is an altar low against the wall. Crystals, dark and murky like wine adorn the old wood, and between them rest small colorful beads on string. Black onyx and gloomy sky blue angelite.
Near the edge, set into white pebbles in a pot, three thick sticks of incense burn. The ember tips glow and flicker like lungs and a heart. The fragrant smoke floats in whispy snaketails towards the ceiling.
Sandalwood is heavy and deep, rounded only by the balancing scent of amber. A last minute dip in jasmine oil heightens the sensual buzz of the fragrance.
Zenyatta has found that he quite enjoys thinking up blends to burn for his student. His own chemical receptors are capable of identifying scents, but Genji's receptors had what his did not; a human base. There is nuance and fragrances need balance just like everything in life.
Gardenia has always been much too sweet and peppermint is over-stimulating if not softened by vanilla. Ylang ylang is tricky. Very potent with the potential to make him crash. Orange blossom and bergamot did wonders during the long, heartsick crying spells Genji had during his early days spent with the monk. He tries to save clove and cinnamon for his student's more tense days, as the combination of warm spices seems to be as comforting to the cyborg as a hot kotatsu during a snowstorm.
Not that Zenyatta doesn't enjoy seeing him sleep so deeply. Though he doesn't necessarily need incense for that result.
The omnic is behind him, comfortably seated. Genji is just the right size to be on his knees, leaning back against his dear mentorwho had been kind enough to offer him his shoulder to drape an arm over, and a leg to prop himself against with his other arm.
They've been in this position for the better part of half an hour. Zenyatta is stroking lightly over synthetic thighs to the soft chimes of his orbs; Genji rests back against him, visor removed, taking in the heady air full of incense, silently turning a mantra over and over in his mind.
One of those patient servos takes a thoughtful squeeze into a thigh, and Genji ventilates deeply, the breath ending with a small, shy pulsation of energy from his body.
Zenyatta feels it of course, and peers up from watching how the cyborg's erection had twitched. He hasn't even touched between Genji's legs yet and there is already so much arousal. The carefully crafted mesh and plating strains under the pressure. The jasmine oil seems to have paid off, he notes, before slowing his stroking to a stop.
He knows Genji is ready to move on, but part of the bonding comes from their dialogues during these sessions together.
"What is it you need, little sparrow?"
Genji breathes again, shakily. It takes him a moment to gather his mind enough to speak.
"Sensei," he starts, voice thick with static. "You. I need you."
"You have me," the omnic reminds him, almost too cheerfully for the situation.
Servos smooth back down those thighs one last time. The anticipation fills Genji like the affectionate suffocation of steam.
And then, to his delight, Zenyatta's servo curls around the pressurized length.
Genji inhales, chest filling, expanding, leaning back into his master like a cat.
The omnic's movements are slow and ponderous. No matter how many times he's had Genji in this position, it's as wonderous and captivating as the first time. The jolting hips, layered plating so finespun over mesh and sensors, hitched ventilations, every little twitch and response, so tuned in and focused.
Zenyatta grips softly up the shaft as his other servo reaches around to join in. The gentlest squeeze at the tapered tip he adores. So sensitive and soft, so unique in shape. Not that he has had experience with human anatomy to know this is different, but he knows enough to appreciate the work that went into Genji's body.
He begins a leisurely rhythm this way, one hand stroking, one petting and squeezing, and watches as his student tilts his head back, sighing against him.
Wonderful.
Genji opens and closes his eyes dreamily at the sensation. A gift from his mentor that he always cherishes. And in return, he makes sure Zenyatta knows just how good he feels.
Small sounds escape the cyborg, pushing back against the omnic, radiating affection in his hybrid energy field.
Zenyatta watches and listens, somehow his body language almost transforming the fixed expression on his faceplate resembling a happy smile.
"Are you enjoying yourself?" he asks cheerfully, squeezing long and slow, dragging sensation.
Genji's vocals hitch and he laughs breathily, more at himself and his own reaction. He turns his head to try to look back at Zenyatta, only getting a glimpse through the sharp cut of his dark eyelashes. There are still little bare spots for them to grow back, but Zenyatta always makes a point to tell Genji how lovely they look.
"Maybe—ha—too much," the Shimada answers, biting his lip and stifling a groan when Zenyatta massages under the head of his cock.
Now the omnic hums in loving amusement. "Abundance," he says in the manner of a teacher who does not currently have a dick in his hand. "Continue your mantra."
"Yes, sensei."
Genji ventilates as Zenyatta resumes his stroking and squeezing. No rush, no goal, just loving Genji wholly and giving him whatever he needs.
He continues this way until the sparrow begins hissing sharp little ventilations, hips twitching back.
Zenyatta removes the hand squeezing the tip, stopping the strokes to just grip firmly, holding Genji's pleasure in place until he shakes from it.
The omnic watches him, listens to his ventilations, feels the arousal ebb back into his control.
It's then that his sensors detect tension. Uncomfortable heat.
"Genji," Zenyatta hums, his own voice static-laden now. His strokes slow and he swipes his thumb over that tapered head again. Back and forth, like a pendulum. "Be kind to yourself."
A reminder. Something Genji has heard many times before from the omnic, especially when he first arrived.
He swallows, working his cybernetic jaw and throat. Dazed already. Finally, the valves on his shoulders release in a steamy sigh, and the tension melts further away.
"Is that better?" Zenyatta asks, though he already knows the answer.
"Yes," Genji rasps, taking a deep, grounding breath. His head nearly spins from the thick aromas in the room.
"Good." The omnic smiles with his energy field, and shifts right back into his work.
He slips the sensitive head through one fist, then his other. Again, and again, like a tunnel that doesn't end, squeezing and sliding down the shaft.
And to his delight, Genji lets out a quiet moan.
Zenyatta doesn't stop, shifting and changing them whenever he senses the need. The fluctuations in Genji's electromagnetic field and his ventilations tell a lot about his body.
The omnic is pumping at a quick pace now, using one servo to hold Genji's hip down when he starts to jolt and squirm, moans turning short and erratic.
He is close.
"Ha, s-sensei—" comes the warning, and all at once Zenyatta's hand slips away.
Genji's body jerks, twisting as if it's trying to chase the climax he'd been denied. Gentle strokes of praise across his chest, holding him in place, remind him what he's given to his shishou.
Ask him when he handed his bliss, his body, his love to Zenyatta and he won't be able to give a precise answer. Every time it feels as natural as if this had always been their lives.
The omnic is peering at his student's still-twitching spike as it recovers from the near orgasm, already weeping static desperately from its tip. He gives him the time he needs to come down the rest of the way.
"You are eager today," Zenyatta muses, curiously running a one of his metal fingers up along its underside. As if the Shimada is never eager.
Genji nearly bucks at such a small touch. And when Zenyatta takes him into his grip once more, he whines breathily, almost a warning to be careful.
But the omnic is kind. He eases him back into it with just one hand, his other staying to pet Genji's chest.
The hum and whir of his systems and organs inside is like artificial honey to his sensors. So sweet, so precious. Beneath his hand he can feel the quiver of mesh, the aura of static building again.
Genji is quiet, only breathing, like he's trying so hard to focus on the chimes of his beloved teacher's orbs.
Again, Zenyatta builds the pleasure slowly. Deep sighs from Genji's vents, fluctuations in his field, all the little signs he reads help him keep his student where he wants him.
And when Genji begins choking on moans, the Zenyatta takes his heavenly touch away again and holds him through the euphoric agony of being so, so close to the edge.
It's always difficult for Zenyatta not to get too curious; he wants to see just how long Genji can go. How close to the edge he can push him. He has no intention of being cruel, but the fascination is almost addictive.
By the fifth try, the Shimada's crackles and pleas drown out the chimes.
"Please," Genji rasps, turning his head, wanting contact with his master as he begs and shakes.
Zenyatta, tuned in as ever, grants Genji a small touch of helm, the static popping between them like an electronic kiss. He pump and pumps, gripping harder now, processor fuzzy from the dueling fields.
He waits for the warning signs in Genji's body and vocalizations, focused, attentive.
"Sensei—" The cyborg's vocals are distorted. His synthetic muscles are tensing up. Zenyatta wants to test him, wants his toes to grip the edge of the cliff before he pulls him back. "M-Mou d-dame—"
The final warning. Zenyatta whips his servo away fast—but not fast enough. Genji reels, crying, slipping over the edge and figuratively falling on his face as the premature orgasm shakes him but fizzles away, ruined. Little tuckered out twitches.
Zenyatta would be blinking in surprise if he could.
"Oh," he vocalizes, watching Genji pant and shake desperately against him. This is certainly not the direction he had meant for the session to go, but then again Zenyatta does not have any attachments to outcomes.
"Sorry," Genji says between breaths.
But Zenyatta shakes his helm gently. "There is no need. We will continue."
Genji doesn't have time to voice his confusion, eyes snapping wide, as Zenyatta takes his exhausted, depressurizing cock into his servo once more.
The sensitivity is enough to make his hips jump, hands scrambling back to steady himself, teeth gritting.
Zenyatta does not start slow this time, relishing the sound of Genji's muffled mewls as he tries to adjust to such a feeling.
The steam that erupts from his valves is hotter, thicker, more frequent. His body unable to stay still, jolting and bucking.
"Ah, ah, sensei, please, sensei," he pleads loudly between moans, between near jumps to the ceiling with each agonizing stroke, already hard again, hot steam bursting from his seams.
And when Zenyatta edges him this time, Genji is struck so hard by the snapback of unreleased pleasure that all he can do is let his shishou hold him through each body-racking convulsion. His eyes are open but he doesn't see, the chimes can't be heard over the rush of blood, fuel, hormones, coolant in his head.
It takes him some time to come back from this one, but Zenyatta is patient and simply pets him as he waits.
When his hands slip back down between Genji's legs, he knows with certainty that the cyborg cannot make it through another one.
He "kisses" him with a static pop once more as he takes him into his hand. Another slides across his chest. A third slips under his leg—
Genji opens his eyes now, greeted by a golden glow as the rest of Zenyatta's projections unfold from within him. Six arms of electromagnetic energy, warm, made of love and light and transcendence.
They all find somewhere to caress and hold but the one he notices the most is the one that slips two warm, gentle fingers inside of him. Zenyatta pumps his cock, moves his fingers inside of him where he knows it fills Genji with love.
Genji turns his body as best as he can to touch the tip of his helm to Zenyatta's, panting, moaning, saying half-words, half-pleas for his master to not stop.
I am bliss. I am bliss. I am bliss.
All at once, Genji's loud, unashamed moans stutter into open-mouthed awe, brown sparrow eyes wide, artificial ligaments extending—And he screams his vocalizer raw, sinking down onto those fingers still working inside of him, ass and thighs trembling, body shaking and shivering like jello.
Zenyatta pulls from him wave after wave of rising and releasing static, of rolling contractions deep inside of him, of wailing cries and choked sobs. The extra arms pulse bright.
He'd been so focused that he hadn't thought to check his chronometer, always interested in logging the length of Genji's blended orgasms. A body of man and mech has such curious reactions.
But this is not about data.
This is about his sparrow.
When the orgasm has finally dwindled to spread out twitches of residual pleasure, Zenyatta slowly pulls his fingers out, his hand away from his tired, limp spike. The bright, extra arms dim and pleat away into nothingness, like a sensu fan no longer needed.
A quick read tells the omnic that his partner is thankfully still breathing, but his limp posture against him prompts a check to see if he is actually conscious.
"Genji," the monk says softly, reaching to caress his cheek.
The Shimada can barely move but still manages a small grunt.
Zenyatta smiles with his energy, carefully shifting his pupil onto the floor. He lets his head rest on the monk's lap (all the better to caress him with) and it's then that he realizes his chimes had stopped playing sometime during the final stretch.
He decides not to activate them again, the natural sounds of the room after such an activity are meditative enough.
He pets the ninja's cheek once more and those eyes flutter half-open to look up at their master.
"Yo," Genji says weakly but playfully through his exhaustion.
Zenyatta cannot help the soft chuckles of adoration that bubble up from his vocalizer.
"Hello," he returns, sliding his fingers along Genji's cybernetic jaw. "Do you need anything, little sparrow?"
"Mm," Genji hums, turning his face to nuzzle against his teacher's hand. "A nap."
The omnic chuckles again and pets Genji's head until he drifts off.
He knows his brothers at the monastary would shake their helms at the idea of meditating with a lover's sleeping head in their lap just after engaging in sexual activity, but Zenyatta has always done things rather unusually, after all.
"Rest well," he says subvocally before he begins his mantra, and slips into the gap with Genji.