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“Ouuuuut of timeeeeee. Running in and out of time."

Marking the tempo with his left foot, Reinhardt stood by his oversized locker, feeling the steamy air rush against his face and body. The metal under his digits, his index completed the rhythm as he searched through the bags and armor pieces, fetching the typical yellow towel from Overwatch's stocks.

This late, after all the youngsters' rush to get themselves cleaned, the lockers were not only steamy, damp… And silent. Enough for Reinhardt's musings and rumbling to be free from all remarks.

The blinking neon lights were perfectly reflected by the teal-tiled floor, the blue lockers, the pine wood benches.

“Action! If we're gonna make it like a tr-" a door closed nearby, leading Reinhardt Wilhelm to stop his tempo and pace, his foot freezing and fingers refraining.

Would it be surprising to imagine that a big man such as Reinhardt Wilhelm, the last crusader, stopped his song for fear of being criticized? Well, it was possible when you saw that giant of a man, his gray hair tied in a bum, his massive and scarred body contained in a tight blue tank top and camo pants holding his breath like a fearful bunny. Here, he was looking around with his blue and white eyes shifting as he leaned left to peek through the rows of lockers. But he saw no one in that direction. The place-

“Oh, Reinhardt. Nobody's here, you can sing," chuckled a rumbling voice nearby.

Torbjörn was sitting nearby on one of the benches, still clad in his attire consisting of a blue overall emblazoned with the colors of overwatch, a black shirt, and that same blue cap hardly leaving the engineer's head.

That grumpy and reductive Dwarf was acting as if it was nothing he had appeared out of nowhere. With his right arm, he was undoing the prosthetic left one. The claw-like limb already had its replacement, more human-like, laid out on the bench.

“Torbjörn. I don't want to hear about Lucio's ramblings about music!" grunted the old German, relaxing and easing off. Carefully, he removed his tank top, revealing his back covered with combat scars along with that lush hairy chest.

But his foot had returned to beating the tempo of the music he didn't dare to sing.

“You're one to talk, always listening to the same tunes. Help me, would you?" retorted Torbjörn… And as Reinhardt turned, he saw his old friend with that claw-like arm dangling from his shoulder like half-done. “It got jammed! Again!"

For a moment, Reinhardt stood agape before his dwarf friend's outburst, watching the little man wave that hand as if it would suddenly change the situation. But no.

“Lindholm," he began, stifling a laugh as he threw his tank top in the locker and stepped closer, then knelt by the bench. “You always jam it!"

Despite Reinhardt kneeling, the size difference between the two men remained visible: the crusader loomed over his friend while grabbing the shoulder and the fake arm. He then moved the two pieces, gyrating the arm until it- [I]CLICK! [/I]It disconnected, leaving Reinhardt holding the claw-like arm he put aside to replace it with the second prosthetic.

“And you always fall for it, Reinhardt," said Torbjörn the moment the prosthetic was locked. At that instant, the Swedish locked lips with the big loaf. It had been a lunge, a bit brutal, but Reinhardt had been quick to pass an arm behind his friend's back to keep him close.

Their lips joined, their beard joined, their faces were separated by less than an inch before Torbjörn broke off the embrace by pressing against Reinhardt's chest.

“Hehe. I guess I'm bad at this," laughed the latter, rolling his eyes as if he had been surprised. “Ingrid doesn't want you home this weekend?"

“No, she's going out with her friends, and gave me the green light," answered Torbjörn, let go and back on the bench.

“Wunderbar! We could do this in my truck!" roared Reinhardt, his hands now on his hips as he observed his friend: he admired that braided beard, that lacking eye covered by an eye patch. And that large nose he couldn't tire to kiss.

But now, the dwarf frowned as he unbuttoned his overall and set aside his cap.

“Your truck? Why wait to be there? It's evening, the kids are all outside for a movie. We have the place for us!"

A remark that brought a grin to Reinhardt's face as he grabbed the blue emblazoned cap to put it on.

“Alright, Chief Engineer!"

“Oh, don't chief me!"

It only took a few minutes, but in the end, Torbjörn appeared in Gibraltar's dry sauna: a small rectangular room whose plain wood walls were filled with a hot source at the center and stair-like benches. That was the perfect spot for the engineer as he closed the door behind him and finally let go of the towel covering his groin.

Small, reduced, limited. With stubby legs and short arms, Torbjörn had always opposed his hardships with his wits. But Ingrid, or anyone he had shown off, could say he wasn't limited by what nature gave him. Not only did he possess endless stamina, a gift from days spent working in his hellish workshop, but he was well endowed. Well enough for his cock to reach his knees… Flaccid.

Younger, he often joked about his third leg, and nobody could deny it looked like it as his genitals dangled between his legs as he approached the first bench and particularly Reinhardt sitting on it. Two hanging balls, a crude and wide shaft. He was packing a monster.

One that slowly pointed in the direction of Reinhardt, a whole different monster: one of muscles and fat in ample amounts for that chiseled body.

And whose hands were holding Torbjörn's blue cap over his hairy groin, keeping his modesty away while flashing a grin.

“Finally, I thou-" Reinhardt started, only to be cut by his friend reaching and taking the cap out of his hands.

“Damnit, Reinhardt. It'll smell like dicks until I wash it up," grumbled Torbjörn, clambering onto the first bench… Then, the one behind, higher.

“Oh, don't be like this. You'll smell worse after a good sweat!" roared Reinhardt, winking. He was unashamed to stroke himself now that he had nothing to cover his modesty.

“Tsch! You better get your mouth to use," grumbled the engineer as he was done with his climbing and sat down, a level above Reinhardt. But at the perfect height since the German wrapped an arm around his waist and scooted him closer.

Closer until Reinhardt's face was Torbjörn's belly level. One he already covered with one kiss.

“Not yet, Friend. Not yet," stated Reinhardt, inhaling the scent of singed hair, carbon, and welding sticking to his friend. As well as the one of sweat, heady and pungent. One he could tire as he kissed and brushed his face against that hairy belly and the happy trail over it.

“Urfh. I spent the whole day in the workshop, I stink," growled Torbjörn, leaning with both hands on the bench, permitting Reinhardt to take a whiff. And to cover his belly with kisses that descended onto his groin.

And that throbbing shaft.

“And me? I've been fighting with the kids all day. I'm a stinking mess too!" said Reinhardt before his lips went and kissed his lover's groin. He ignored the golden pubes to press onto that tiny fatty groin, then passed over the cock's base. And descended. Or rather ascended the dick that throbbed and straightened, widened, lengthened by the second.

“Yes, you are always a stinking mess, you pig!" chuckled Torbjörn, passing a hand over Reinhardt's nape before stroking his hair. The old German went all in onto the shaft. Spot after spot, those lips moved onto the 8 inches shaft, licked every veiny spot of that uncut cock until he reached that tip.

That glans, stinking of musk, precum, and more fluid he tasted. A pinkish glans with a strong perfume that quickly permeated the little room. And though the sauna was at the minimum, Torbjörn was feeling warm and bothered…

Especially with Reinhardt's kissing the tip, licking it until precum oozed from it.

“Fuck… Reinhardt. If you keep going, I will-" started then grunted Torbjörn, his eyes closing while a shiver shook his waist.

Already, that mischievous “Knight" had moved his tongue to pull on the foreskin and peel it off the shaft. An effort, delicate and attentive, complimented by slobber all over the throbbing flesh.

“Do it, Torbjörn," encouraged Reinhardt, feeling the hand over his hair dig deeper into the tangle.

“Don't… Tell me I didn't warn you," mumbled Torbjörn, his artificial grip over his friend's head loosening for half a second.

When Reinhardt inhaled and moved, aligning his mouth with that dick… Torbjörn did not wait.

His grip returned, his elbow bent, his arm lifted a bit. And he tugged Reinhardt forward, forcing the cocktip to go beyond those tight lips.

Inside that mouth were that warm tongue and warmer breath, caressing and stroking Torbjörn's length through and through. Reinhardt sucked in the air and that cock, slurping on the sweaty skin until his beard tickled Torbjörn's testicles.

“Heh, you're the best at it," laughed the engineer, using his artificial hand to stroke the hair while enjoying the depth of his friend's mouth.

And true, Reinhardt was a beast at his. With the eyes closed, the large German had swallowed the whole dick dry… And once his nose hit the groin, once the glans hit the back of his mouth. He bobbed back… Then forth.

Back, and forth, in and out. The shaft thrust, the lips slurped, the saliva dripped on the dick while the swollen cockhead rubbed against the Knight's coiling and coating tongue. It moved, it rolled, it pressed, it stroked the sensitive skin.

“Hhhoh… Sweet, sweet lips."

Groaning and moaning, the dwarf leaned back on his arms, releasing his grip on Reinhardt. He allowed the slutty and needy man to have a moment with his dick. He breathed and exhaled. But beyond? His legs stretched, his toes curled, his jaw clenched.

That mouth was divine, that tongue perfect… And beyond, the small engineer felt the need rise in his prostate, the heat spark up in his testicles as the scrotum tensed and pulled up.

The air itself felt hot and burning, making the poor Swedish sweat as he looked to the ceiling, observed the light… And dug his fingers into the soft wood. Back and forth was that mouth, ceaseless and always so fast, constantly sucking him dry. Sucking his soul through it.

“Oh-… How long since you've sucked me like that?" moaned Torbjörn, feeling the pleasure at the tip of his tongue, feeling the spark rising and about to explode in his brain.

Back and forth, with that tongue rolling against his glans while Reinhardt focused on the tip. More than half of Torbjörn's shaft had been abandoned…

And yet, there it was. His orgasm, his pleasure, his ecstasy .. There… So close. So near, just a lick away, a breath away… And slurp away.

“Fu-.. I'm… I'm coming!" growled the Swedish engineer, his toes curling around the ball of his feet while his metal fingers imprinted into the wood. Before they relaxed, before his whole body relaxed before his mind drifted into the light above. The heat, the build-up, the pressure had all released and disappeared into Reinhardt's slurping mouth.

And yet, that tongue hadn't left yet as it thoroughly cleaned that cock.

“You- You can stop, you big dummy," sighed Torbjörn, easing off when his friend ceased. He was finally allowed to breathe, to unclench his jaw, to lower his gaze at that earnest grin.

“You can be a pain, you know?"

“I know… But that's why you like me!" Reinhardt shouted, his rumbling voice so jovial despite him being all needy… And still masturbating after all that time.

“Yes, yes. Let's take care of your little machinery then," said Torbjörn, straightening his position and not fussing when Reinhardt's arm was back gripping his side and taking him down. From one bench to directly Reinhardt's lap as if it wasn't insulting enough.

But at the same time, that was the best way to handle the German's needs.

“Could you use the me-"

“Yes, yes," curtly said Torbjörn, exhausted as he heard Reinhardt's muffled cry.

Large, massive, with legs as large as tree trunks… The big German had been bestowed many things by nature. But when Torbjörn's hand slid between his legs, it wasn't to find something as generous.

Small was an euphemism, especially in contrast to the German's massive torso.

But here it was, Reinhardt, the German giant… With a three inches dicklet only a touch as delicate as Torbjörn's artificial hand could get.

A nub amidst the hairy groin and above those hoary nuts, a tiny red cut cocklet hardly peeking in between the gray strands.

One so hard and erected, almost ready to explode. Not yet… Not until those cold fingers closed onto the length, viced around it, and squeezed it.

“Your big hands can't wrap around your tiny dick?" jabbed Torbjörn, glancing at his friend, watching his typical reaction. Shame and excitation. His face was red, followed by the typical huffs.

“Thi- this is not like that!" grumbled Reinhardt.

But his tiny dick didn't lie, not when it spurted more of that tacky precum Torbjörn spread along the length, rubbed it, and slathered over those balls.

“That's true," answered Torbjörn, pinching the tip, just so slightly to get a wince out of his Friend. “You can use tweezers. Dick tweezers for the smallest dick of overwatch!"

Reinhardt gritted his teeth, grounded them as it was his turn to lean on the bench while his friend played with his dick.

One small pinch, one tug, one stroke… All the while, Torbjörn used his real hand to play with his own body. His hardened dick he stroked loudly without a thought. Honestly, it would have been difficult to do both together. But with his prosthesis, he had no issue slowing down… And only giving a speck of attention to that tiny shaft, just like Reinhardt loved it.

“You may be big, Wilhelm. But we all know you have a tiny dick. Winston, Cassidy, even Jack. Nobody has a dick as small as yours," continued Torbjörn, moving his fingers so he no longer held Reinhardt between his fingers… But his phalanges instead, as if he was scissoring a tiny clit.

“To-rbjorn," mumbled the large giant, his mouth open and heaving like a beast. Reinhardt's legs were clenched, his hands gripping the benches… Oh, he was at the limit.

“So small, so tiny, so cute. Are you not ashamed of it? Baby-dicked crusader?"

“Torbjörn, I-"

“Go on… Shoot, there's not much else you can do with it!"

Reinhardt trembled, shivered, exhaled. But he did shoot. Like a cannon, in waves and white shot cutting through the air until it dropped on the ground. Then again to shoot, once, twice, thrice.

The large German's ejaculation kept going as he humped that cold hand, the air… Until his scrotum relaxed and his back leaned against the bench behind him.

Saliva matted the beard, sweat that entire body… And while he sighed and grunted, he smiled.

“Ah, I needed that!" he said, smiling ear to ear.

“Heh, of course Reinhardt. Who else but me to keep your tiny baby dick secret?" answered Torbjörn, lazily stroking both shafts. One with the whole hand, the other still scissoring and squeezing out the last few drops of cum from it.

“My friend… You're pushing me," sighed Reinhardt, barely looking down at his shaft, too. His prostate felt eased, the burn at his cock tip gone. Yet, Torbjörn's hand remained to pry a few more droplets.

“Of course, that's the only way you can get off when I'm not fuck-"

[I]Creek![/I]

Cold air rushed inside the dry sauna, chasing the heat but not the exploring hands.

Torbjörn blinked, Reinhardt blinked, Winston blinked.

“See. I told you he's bigger than you!"