Cross posting this from my story 'At the Seams' cause there will be smut in that that people might wnt to just read. Yeah, expect a WidowTracer one soon.


(Tracer POV)

I'm not drunk, not even the least bit buzzed.

But so confident, sure of myself, I want this.

Maybe that's what's scaring me.

We just finished another double date with Lucio and Murcat when they decided to take their own cab back to base while I was in the loo. Zandra wouldn't give me a straight answer as to their reasons but I didn't miss the mirth in her eyes.

The ride back to her flat wasn't much different from any of the others, a bit more hand holding but nothing prepared me for the look in her eyes when we stepped into the light of the complex. Sharp, heavy and dark that made my knees a bit weaker, mouth a bit dryer, somewhere else a bit wetter.

It began with the first time she asked to see the anchor in my chest three weeks ago. Not even thinking twice, I slipped my shirt off and went to unclasp my bra. She stopped me, red in the face and told me it was best that I kept it on for the pictures. We had to wait until I stopped blushing so it didn't look like my anchor was embedded into a tomato with a knockers.

She was careful when examining the tech, murmuring to herself as she was able to identify all the parts that Winston had taught her about. Her fingers traced the scars around the cylinder, gentle, exploring. That night, we stayed up talking about my time in the fishbowl, the accident, the pulling; laying in her bed until I had to be back for lights out.

It really began building up at the start of this week. With the presentation coming up, Pardenilla gave me a seven days of break to make sure that I wouldn't 'fuck up the demonstration and disgrace Overwatch'; time which I have spent practicing the script with Zandra in the comfort of her flat.

Wish commander had worded it a bit nicer but again, I'm not complaining.

Tonight, her father is away at the farm until the presentation. We barely make it through the front door and kick our shoes off before she has me pinned against the wall, hand in my hair, a flurry of lips and tongues. The kiss is hungry and I can barely keep up.

"Bedroom." She growls out and I nod, pulling her down for more.

We stumble a bit before she gives up and carries me the rest of the way, her eyes dragging themselves over my body as we go. Not one to sit still, I bury my face into the crook of her neck, licking at the soft, salty skin and drinking in her scent.

She says something in Arabic with a hushed gasp as I suck hard enough to leave a mark.

My back lands on the soft mattress and I am pinned by her body once more, hands untucking my dress shirt and finding the heated skin beneath. I move my own hands, eager to get her out of the blouse she kept open one button too low for me not be distracted.

She makes surprisingly quick work of the buttons, undoing them and pressing both palms flat against my somersaulting stomach. I let a low groan as she drags blunt nails across my skin. They suddenly pull back, all contact disappears.

A pause, silence in the air only broken by our shallow breaths.

In the dim moonlight and the soft glow of my anchor, she looks me in the eye, still half lidded but clearer and aware. Her teeth nervously chew at her bottom lip, maroon lipstick smeared on her chin.

"Am I moving too fast? Would you like to talk about this-"

I palm the back of her head and pull her down, cutting off the rest of her words with my lips.

"I'm for actions, not words. If anything makes me uncomfortable, or you uncomfortable, we can deal with it then, love" I smile, trusting her, loving her.

Zandra kisses me gently, nodding.

"Don't hesitate."

Finally, the blouse falls open and my hands roam over the tense muscles I find. I slide them back and under the waist of her skirt, grabbing a handful of her arse.

"I don't plan on it."

The game is back on, her grin almost sadistic as she pins my hands above my head and attacks my neck with teeth and tongue. Each nip sends a shot of molten arousal to my groin, my hips lift up, trying to find contact. A throaty moan is torn from my mouth, her leg comes up and presses in hard between mine.

Unashamed, I grind against the firm muscle, a difficult task with my arms still held down.

"Shite, love. If you're gon' fuck me, at least take my trousers off."

I swear my panties are probably ruined by now.

She chuckles against my neck and releases my arms.

"I would much rather watch you take them off yourself." There's a hint of a command interlaced within the quip that sends a wave of shivers down my spine.

Oh, so that's what she likes. Splendid. I love being a bit argumentative, makes the punishment a lot more fun.

I see her watching me writhe on the bed with her braced on her arms above me, my limbs now free. Her loose dark hair spills down over her shoulders and for a moment, I get lost at how stunning she looks.

"Tracer."

Self-doubt and worry, I hesitated too long. Smiling apologetically, I peck a kiss on her cheek.

"Sorry love, just admiring the view."

Lust slowly creeps up and replaces the relief as I bare more and more of my skin. I shrug my shirt off the rest of the way. I keep my eyes on hers, even when they're following the movement of my hands. It's thrilling to see how hungry she looks and how much power I hold over her.

A give and take

My bra comes off next, she takes a sharp breath when the cups fall away, her mouth parting just a hair more. I give her a show, lifting my hips and swaying them to an unheard beat as I undo the button and slowly pull the zipper down.

I slip my hand under both layers of fabric, brushing a finger over the hood of my clit. It sends electricity through my nerves, seeing her watch me like this, a bit naughty, a bit adventurous.

I'm right about my earlier prediction, my underwear absolutely is soaked.

Grabbing the waistbands, I push them both down in a slow, teasing motion, one side at a time, exposing more and more of my legs, finally kicking them off and leaving me completely naked. She hasn't moved at all, hasn't said a word, barely breathing.

"Like what you see?" It comes out cheeky, hopefully hiding the nervousness in my own voice.

Heart thudding in my chest, she grins, dipping down and placing a kiss on my belly button. Hot breath washes over the sensitive skin. Her lips move up, tickling and leaving behind a wet trail of maroon lipstick.

"Yes, very much, ya amar(my moon "beautiful")." She makes it up to the anchor, tongue gently swirling around the metal, "You are absolutely stunning."

"Look who's the honey tongue now." I let out a low moan, her mouth latching onto a nipple as a hand reaches down and presses against my folds.

She seems very content with herself just playing with my breasts with her mouth; a mixture of nips and sucking leaves me desperate for air.

For a brief moment, I can see blood, the room cold, stained photos of family and friends.

I shake the thought from my head, focusing on the exploring fingers between my legs, how they dance and waltz. They push past my trimmed hairs, eyes locked on mine when one finally push in. It's almost embarrassing how easily it slides.

Oh so gently, oh so caring, she pumps it in and out, thumb keeping constant pressure on my aching bud. I whimper softly, hand twisting into the sheets.

"Another?"

"Fuck yes."

The second one joins just as easily, making me feel just a bit fuller, a bit more complete. I aasp against her mouth as she curls them. My hands find purchase on her back and I pull her flush to me.

"Your anchor is surprisingly warm." Zandra murmurs off handedly.

"Maybe cause you're getting me so hot."

She snorts back a laugh, she replies with a bite on my neck and the quickening of her hand. Our chests grind together, slick with sweat. I want her clothes off but I don't want her to stop.

"Another."

I rasp out. She regards me for a moment, seemingly impressed? Or maybe just surprised. I need it, to feel the stretch, to feel that it's her doing this to me. Making me say stupid things and stare way too long into her at her face.

The third is hesitant, agonizingly slow. It takes a bit more to fit it in and feel it push against my core. My chest rumbles with a moan, my nails digging into her back. I'm not used to it, nearly gasping for her to take it out.

But all the same, it hurts in a good way, to know that it's her. Perhaps if she was someone else, someone nameless, it would be different. I take one look at her, Zandra Salam, Miss 'how about a date', and I just can't believe I'm here. Happy, alive, in love.

"Move, please."

And I feel her, the pulse of her finger, and circles of the thumb. The thrusts are shallow and awkward as she tries to learn me, lips on my neck to distract. My body tenses and a cry spills from my mouth when she curls them to the right.

"Did I-"

She begins to pull away, my hand instinctively clamping around her wrist and keeping her there. Her face is a bit scared, worried. I take a moment to blink away the flashes in my vision.

"No, it felt good. Do it again."

She doesn't need to be told twice, finding the spot once more and working it. The pace quickening, her hot breath whispering sweet nothings in Arabic against my collarbone. Higher and higher. Breathless, tangle of limbs, tighter.

It's not perfect, first times never are, but it's us.

I throw my head back, so close, I think I shout out, so close.

"Come for me, ya amar."

And I do, muscles snapping tight, hands on her face, watching her through lidded eyes as she sees what she has done to me. I cry out her name in an avalanche of curses. Her eyes are intense but tender, studying and learning with a hint of smugness. The thrusts becoming slower and eventually still for a moment before leaving.

Soft lips on mine. I let out a sigh and a lopsided smile.

"Brilliant."

"I am pleased to hear it."

It doesn't take much effort to roll her over, my legs on either side of her stomach. I look at her, the way her shirt is open exposing her black bra and heaving chest. Even in the dim lighting, I can see her blush deepen when I bring her damp hand to my mouth; kissing and taking my sweet time to clean each finger.

By the time I finish, her eyes are dark again, lips parted, quiet gulps of air.

Sweet sweet satisfaction.

I lean down and feel the heat radiating off of her, my hand feeling the staccato beat of her heart.

"Let me return the favor, love."