Chapter Text
“Look you smart-assed little shit...!” It was the start of a tirade, he could tell.
He weren’t so little, Jesse considered, when the man hollerin at him was about six inches shorter. Didn’t even manage a good show of intimidation for all that he was supposed to be in charge.
“I”ve about had enough of your attitude!” Yep, definitely a tirade a-comin’. Better cut him short before his arms started to go numb.
Jesse grinned a wolfish sort of grin, the kind that made men like him, sputter in indignation. “Yeah, well I reckon I’ve had about enough of your attitude too. You talk a big game, but darlin’ yer about as threatenin’ as a toothless rattlesnake, an’ I think a wet noodle’d have better luck keepin’ me on leash.”
Ahh there it was, the face turnin’ red, the sputterin’, the cussin’ and hollerin’ about what a terrible submissive he was. Behind the remorseless grin, Jesse was more than a little disappointed. He’d thought maybe this guy could handle him - sass and all - but he’d lasted a few months before showing that he was like the rest.
Weak.
“Look, if we’re about done here, I could use a drink, so if you’d kindly untie me, that’d be mighty domly of ya.”
He shrugged slightly, muscles tensing beneath the leather straps and buckles that were currently biting into his skin. There was a tittering among the small group of those who’d been watching, those who’d placed bets on how long this one would last, and whether or not he’d get Jesse to kneel with only a look.
Some of ‘em lost money on this one.
The man spat at his feet, drawing a few scandalized gasps from the onlookers. “You’re not even a real submissive, are you?” Oh well now that was just downright mean. Out of the corner of his eye, Jesse saw Sombra moving in like a thundercloud, about to kick this joker’s ass right out of the club. “You’re just some hick playing games you don’t understand. No wonder Doms keep dropping you.”
He turned and stalked away, pushing through the wide-eyed bystanders, Jesse’s mouth hanging slightly open. “...I DROPPED THEM, ASSHOLE!” he shouted after the guy belatedly, trying to ignore the way the accusations had made his gut twist uncomfortably. He wasn’t a fake, was he?
“Oh, pobrecito,” Sombra sighed as she got to his side, her white and purple leather like some kind of angelic beacon in the darkness of the club. “You really gotta stop pissing ‘em off.” Her fingers were quick to unbuckle leather straps and untie the cords that left a rather red indent on the flesh of Jesse’s skin. He shrugged out of the restraints as she loosened them, kicking aside buckles with no small amount of bitterness. “Not my fault he couldn’t control a wet rag, much less little ol’ me,” he muttered, grabbing his shirt from the back of a nearby chair and pulling it over his head.
Sombra snorted, the kind of noise that could be considered downright dismissive if he didn’t know better. (he did)
“Look, I’m not saying he was right for you, but don’t you think you’re going kind of hard on them? Dominant types like to have their ego stroked, you know? A little purring, a little panting, and they’re basically yours. Easy.” She acted like she knew what she was talking about, and he supposed she did, at least when it came to her Dominant. Jesse followed her to the bar,nodding to the bartender and catching the bottle slid to him across the polished wood.
Eyes scanned the club, tripping over leather and lace-clad bodies, ignoring the sounds of whips and squeals and grunts of pain, pleasure, and both. “Yeah well...maybe I don’t wanna submit to someone who needs their ego stroked,” he muttered, lips hovering over the lip of his bottle of beer. “Maybe I wanna give in to somebody who ain’t intimidated by my…” he waved a hand in a broad circle around himself, “...all my shit, y’know?” He looked down at the bar top, pushing one finger along the mirror-smooth surface. “I don’t wanna give anyone respect they ain’t earned.”
Out of the corner of his eye, he caught one of Sombra’s manicured purple nails tapping the bar contemplatively. “Well, you are a stubborn pain in the ass,” she said finally, earning a grumpy frown from the southern boy at her side. “Not that that’s a bad thing! I think you just need to find...someone more stubborn than you are, comprende?” Jesse huffed a noise that was part sigh, part dismissive grunt. Brown eyes drifted upward to the balcony level where the patrons with more money than sense hung out.
Up there was one guy that every sub in the place would give their left tit to submit to.
Hanzo Shimada.
Japanese guy, stern-faced and broad shouldered, with hands that you just knew could spank like the devil’s own shovels, and streaks of grey at the temples that made both panties and boxers drop at a nod. Had a way with rope that kept the best of them panting at his heels for even a chance to play with him.
Jesse had no doubt that someone like him could sufficiently put and keep him in his place with only a glare. The thought made him squirm a little in his seat in all honesty.
“Oh no, don’t even think about it,” Sombra laughed, poking the tip of his nose playfully. “They only allow good boys up there. Not brats like you and me…” she grinned at him then, eyes vulpine in their cleverness. “But if you’re nice, I might show you the code to the keypad for the elevator.” The look Jesse shot back at her was sharp and more than interested. “Now if that ain’t somethin’...Suppose you want somethin’ in return?” Plush lips twisted into a grin, purple lipstick dark even against her skin. “Just a favor in the future. Nothing big.”
Jesse McCree knew when he was sellin’ his soul to the devil, but if it meant a chance to reel in a Dom like Hanzo Shimada, he’d sell more than his soul. “Well darlin, I reckon you’ve got yourself a deal.”