Somewhat Clear

deerna
somewhatclear

Rating: NSFW
Fandom: Overwatch
Relationship: Reaper/Soldier76
Tags: Sparring, Pre-Fall of Overwatch, Belligerent Sexual Tension, Fist Fights, injuries, Blood and Violence, Groping
Wordcount: 2723
Notes: for ScubaJack4, thanks for your support!

Summary:
A sparring session between Gabriel Reyes and Jack Morrison ends up taking care of their pent up tensions in more senses than one.

Excerpt:

They managed to take each other down a couple times each; as the fight dragged on, the energy between them started changing. They weren't trying to land as many punches as humanly possible anymore; they read each other movements, leaning into them, keeping the flow going, like a conversation, like a dance. From angry to hungry.

{ read on AO3 | read here }

Gabe didn't know how to describe the prickly sensation that enveloped his guts when he found Jack in the locker room.

The commander of Overwatch looked like a disgruntled Greek god as he changed out of his uniform, the wide expanse of his muscled back bared for anyone to see; unashamed of the scatter of scars marring his skin. There was a light frown on his face and his hair was mussed for having pulled the shirt over his head. It gave Gabriel flashbacks of their time at SEP, when they crossed paths to and from the showers. He'd been flashy back then too, golden and tan and with a chip on his shoulder the size of Texas, oblivious to Gabriel's appreciating looks until he wasn't. Even with the war going on, everything had seemed so much easier back then.

Things were different now. They had another fight that morning; Gabriel and Jack were strong personalities, so nobody was surprised when they started to clash, but lately the situation had gotten even more tense. The risk that Overwatch - and consequently Blackwatch - could be dismantled was starting to look a very real possibility; what used to be just a job had quickly turned into their blood, into their way of thinking, of acting, of moving; they couldn't have changed their minds even if they wanted to. Blame was thrown around. Stakes were high. Compromises were getting harder to reach. Things were starting to get uncomfortably personal.

“It seems like we were thinking the same thing, for once,” Jack greeted Gabriel when he saw him come in, dry humor flaking off his sharp words. “Were you looking to blow off some steam, too?”

Gabriel just opened his locker and started changing. He wasn't in the mood for provocations.

“I'm offering myself as a sparring partner, in case you were too busy brooding to read between the lines.”

A sound that was the bastard son of a scoff and an incredulous laughter came out of Gabriel like a snort. “I can't decide if you have a dying wish or if you're exactly as stupid as you look, Morrison,” he drawled, pulling on his gym clothes - a tight suit made of a special mesh that was supposed to keep his nanites in place and to stimulate his SEP-gifted metabolism as he trained. “Either way, gotta appreciate the fact that you don't seem at all worried about getting that pretty face of yours bashed in.”

“Why should I? You're the poster boy of respecting rules and sportsmanlike conduct, aren't you? Are you telling me that your personal issues would be in the way of a friendly spar between colleagues?” The mocking tone in Jack's voice was ugly and dark, all grit and pettiness. Shrapnel and glas wrapped in golden foil package.

All Gabriel wanted at the moment was punching him right in the teeth. He slammed his locker closed and walked away, wrapping his knuckles as he walked to the main gym room. He hadn't spent all afternoon trying to focus on his paperwork, counting down the hours to the moment he could finally put the pen down and go hit the crap out of a bag until his fists were sore, carefully avoiding to think about how he would've liked to deck Jack in the face, just to suffer that kind of harassment.

“Come on, Gabe,” Jack said, trailing after him. “Best three out of five, like we used to do in training.”

“I'm not in the mood to hold back, Jack.”

Gabriel meant it as a warning, but when he turned to finally look at Jack, the asshole just grinned at him, smug and dangerous. He was wearing an unfamiliar kimono-y thing that looked like it had been dunked in blue liquid rubber tape until it shrank down a size. The cut of the garment highlighted his well toned chest and that tight waist of his, and the color brought out his eyes, bright and feverish.

Stupid fucker. Looking for an adrenaline high like when they were still young and stupid, pushing their limits, getting intoxicated on the new sense of powerfulness, Gabriel thought. Despite everything, he grinned back; with all their differences, they were still so annoyingly similar.

“No holding back, huh,” Gabriel said, checking the wraps once again, cocking a hip. “That seems cruel even for me. We can't let Overwatch's precious commander get injured too badly. I might let you tap out, if you ask nicely.”

“That won't be necessary,” Jack answered, mildly. Then, without any warning, he threw himself at Gabe.

Like a snake, Jack struck Gabriel and swept him off his feet with a sudden kick. Taken by surprise, Gabriel cursed and fell, catching all his weight on the left wrist; the joint twinged with intense pain, but it wasn't broken, he didn't think. The nanites trapped inside his body flooded the area, already healing whatever damage there was; his left shin tingled too, where Jack's hard naked heel had hit him.

“Son of a bitch,” Gabriel said between gritted teeth. They weren't even on the fucking mats yet, for fuck's sake. He grabbed blindly at Jack and pulled his weight over, dragging Jack down with him and slamming him against the floor, making sure that his stupid face made contact with the hard tiles. It wasn't enough to take him out, Gabriel knew, but Jack's healing factor was slower than his because he didn't have extra nanites to help the enhanced blood along the way. It meant that Gabriel could already put weight on his ruined shin and crack the hell down on Jack's back, pinning him to the floor with his hands locked behind his head, while the motherfucker was still trying to make sense of which way was up.

Jack made a valiant effort to struggle out of the hold, but Gabriel had gotten him good. While he caught his breath, Gabriel couldn't help but smile; he could almost taste Jack's humiliation and frustration and bloodthirst. They were just getting warmed up, he thought, feeling the beginning of the adrenaline high tickling his synapses; he'd forgotten how good it felt taking Morrison down a peg like that.

“Fuck,” Jack muttered under him, spitting a mouthful of blood almost on Gabe's bare foot, the lines of his back bunching up like angry waves as he tried to buck Gabriel off.

“Tap out, Morrison. This isn't the hill you wanna die on,” Gabriel said, voice as sweet as honey.

“You almost knocked my teeth out, you asshole.”

“That's what you get for attacking me before we got to the mats. That's just rude. Also, what's with the complaint? You are worried for your pretty face, after all.”

“A broken tooth is not a shattered cheekbone, it doesn't go away in a week!”

“Then act more sportsmanlike next time, commander Morrison, and take your fight to the mats,” Gabriel replied, pointedly. He paused. “I didn't hear you tap out.”

Jack cursed him out. “I'll take it,” Gabriel snickered and got off his back, offering him a hand to help him up. There was a nasty crack on the tile where he had landed on his cheek, and Morrison's face didn't look any better, though the bruise and the laceration looked already days old. Jack slapped the hand away, got on his feet and walked to the mats. Gabriel followed him, laughter still shaking his chest.

They took proper stances before going at each other, this round, but after the first punch everything else got a little blurry. Gabriel was too caught up in the flow of hitting and getting hit to actually pay attention to anything else that wasn't Jack, wild and angry. He looked really pissed off; there was a certain kind of desperation behind every twitch, behind every move, the desire to land a hit, to make it hurt. The discoloration on his face made his complexion paler and unnatural; it transformed him in a grim, vengeful demon, out for Gabriel's blood - but Gabe gave as good as he got. Injuries blossomed underneath both their training clothes, staining their skins and the expensive material and the deeper tissues inside their organs whenever a punch or a kick hit just right.

They managed to take each other down a couple times each; as the fight dragged on, the energy between them started changing. They weren't trying to land as many punches as humanly possible anymore; they read each other movements, leaning into them, keeping the flow going, like a conversation, like a dance. From angry to hungry.

Gabriel landed on his back, the mat too slick with blood and sweat for him to find purchase quickly enough, and Jack was immediately on him, elbow pressed on his neck and thumbs painfully jammed in his nerves. Absurdly, it reminded Gabriel of the last time they had sex, half a lifetime ago: Jack had had the same concentration on his features, the same tension in his jaw. He'd been licking his lips just like that, even, sweat messing up his hair in unsightly cowlicks. Gabriel remembered his mouth wrapped around him, his tongue lavishing the underside of his cock, and his breath itched. The humiliation flooding him didn't have anything to do with being the one forced to tap out this time, ghost of another life.

“Are you sure you want to get up already? You look good on your back,” Jack said, kneeling up and freeing him from the lock he'd captured Gabe with. A flush spread down his neck and chest and he was pretty sweaty. Things were getting quite heated.

“Sticking your head down the gutter, Jack?” Gabriel rasped as he got on his feet.

“Can't help it,” Jack chuckled as he adjusted his crotch. He didn't bother to blame the adrenaline. “Two wins and two losses each. Ready for the last round?”

“I was born ready,” Gabriel laughed as he took again the starting position, a playful grin spreading on his lips. God help him, he was actually having fun, now. He couldn't remember why he'd been so angry at Jack, before; he'd forgotten how easy it had always been to put aside their differences. This is what they were meant to be - twin blades, keeping each other sharp.

It took a lot to tire out two super soldiers; the last round was no less brutal than the previous ones but there was more playfulness in their moves: every touch, every flick, every grope, feint and dirty trick felt like a tease, more than like a real hit- but they didn't come out on top from their SEP trainings without knowing how to play rough.

Jack feinted a punch to Gabriel's guts and then threw himself at him, grunting with effort, but Gabriel had seen through the move and he was ready for him; he dodged and grabbed Jack's shoulders, using his momentum to topple him over and on the mats. Jack's back hit the ground and he gasped out a breathless laughter, gorgeous and raucous even as his eyes rolled with dizziness. Gabriel dropped his weight on Jack's middle like a ton of bricks, and the laughter cut off, turned into a shocked wheeze.

“Out of breath already?” Gabriel mocked him, not hesitating to put his hands all over his rubber-covered chest, pushing him down with a grin. Jack gave him a pained grin back, and then kicked the flat of his foot right in Gabriel's face, hard. A dolorous echo rang in his ears as Jack wrapped both of his thighs around his neck, almost cutting off his airflow and effectively immobilizing him on the floor.

“Well, this isn't distracting at all,” Gabriel choked out, considering their position. He was stuck on his knees on the floor, Jack's crotch so close he could smell the sweat and the arousal on him. He felt light-headed; Jack's mouth twitched when he distractedly ran his hands down his thighs, his crotch, his tight waist, his chest.

“Are you tapping out?” Jack asked. It sounded like an invitation, like he was saying are you ready to get out of here?

Yes, Gabriel thought. “Not yet,” he said out loud. He shook his head, trying to get rid of the dizziness, and he knelt up with a grunt, pulling Jack's weight up with him. With difficulty he slid his body under Jack's and threw his legs around his torso, locking his ankles together and using the new-found leverage to push him away and pull out of the leg-lock. Jack's sound of protest quickly turned into a pained moan when Gabriel tangled their limbs so that Jack couldn't move his knees without ripping something.

“Are you tapping out?”

“No chance in hell,” Jack gritted out, and brought his fist down right on Gabriel's dick.

Gabe let out an embarrassing yelp and let him go. Jack was on him in a second flat, pressing him into the mats with the flat of his body. He could feel his erection poking his hip.

“Since when the commander of Overwatch resorts to these shameful, dirty tricks?”

“You're harder than before.” Jack smiled, breathing against his face. “Good to know that you're still into pain after all these years. Are you going to tap out?”

“Kiss me, you jackass.”

Jack did, a hard press of his mouth that stole Gabriel's breath away, like a punch to the gut. He pulled him closer, messing up his hair even further, grasping at his shoulders. The rubber of Jack's outfit felt weirdly slick under his sweaty fingers; he found a sliver of skin where the jacket had ridden up during the fight, feverishly hot and scarred-smooth. Jack pushed a knee between Gabriel's legs and Gabriel couldn't help but grind up, chasing the delicious friction. He could almost taste frustration on Jack's tongue as the commander of Overwatch let his hands wander down his body, uselessly looking for some kind of opening in Gabriel's suit. All he could do was sinking his fingers in the meat of Gabriel's ass, kneading the flesh through the thin material.

“Don't rip the suit, shit's expensive,” Gabriel gasped, a warning in his voice. He gently reached down for Jack's hands and pushed him off, reaching up to undo the clasp at his neckline and pull the zipper down. “Here, happy?”

“Ecstatic.” Jack's eyes stared at his chest; Gabriel knew he looked good, sweaty and glistening under the gym's cold lights. “Maybe this isn't the best place to do this.”

Gabriel snorted. “I don't know what you're talking about. I don't know you but I'm pretty comfortable down here.” He leaned back, exposing he long line of his neck. He probably looked like yesterday's mince meat, with how many punches he'd gotten in the face, but Jack still licked his lips at the display.

“This is a public gym- just because we closed it down for personal training it doesn't mean that people won't be using it anytime soon,” he reasoned, getting on his feet. “Let's take this to the showers.”

Gabriel sighed. He knew Jack's wild side better than most, but Morrison was first and foremost the commander of Overwatch; he was always going to be a boy scout at heart.

“Fine,” he said, getting up and stretching a little, popping his back and neck as he started toward the locker room. “Anyway, I won.”

Jack's neck snapped towards him. “What? You were the one tapping out last, so I won.”

“I didn't tap out,” Gabriel insisted, pulling the zipper all the way down as he entered the locker room. “I told you to kiss me, and you didn't want to keep going. You were the one ending the encounter, so I won.”

“That's bullshit,” Jack said, but he was smiling as he stopped by his locker to take a fluffy towel out. Boy Scout.

“Your face is bullshit,” Gabriel answered, warmly. “What's with the stupid-looking rubber bathrobe, by the way?”

“It's not a bathrobe, it's a gi,” Jack corrected him as he undid the belt keeping it close.

Gabriel swallowed, staring at his toned stomach as they started towards the showers. “Whatever it is, it looks really fucking stupid.”

“If you hate it so much, come and take it off, then.”

Gabriel smiled. “Don't mind if I do.”