This is a quickie in my path to fandom expansion. It's set sometime before Overwatch is dissolved, though I suppose that doesn't matter a ton since this is a PWP. More thoughtful Overwatch fiction is sure to come, but for now...

Disclaimer: I am not the entity known as Blizzard and I therefore own nothing.

-An Exchange of Ideologies-

Respect.

It was something that Moira O'Deorain did not hand out freely and, even more infrequently, express towards another individual—but after dedicating nearly three decades of her life to the pursuit of science, the woman had accepted that "anything can happen." So, fine. Despite fighting for the other side, Dr. Ziegler had gained her respect as a colleague and also as a "frenemy"—someone she could talk to off the battlefield, but blast while on it without things getting weird on either front.

And that was why she so easily accepted that this was happening now.

They'd both been working on their own things in the spacious and technologically impressive Overwatch laboratories, which wasn't uncommon. This was an agreed neutral ground where scientific minds could carry out their research without interference—never mind the guards outside just waiting for the geneticist to step out of line. Mercy had arrived late after a celebratory trip to the expansive dining halls with her teammates, though she was just as pleasant and poised as always when she greeted Moira, and the redhead let the intrusion slide this time.

As the hours ticked by and consequently, subsequent sleepless nights spent researching and experimenting took their toll, the two had been a bit more open in their chatter than usual. Chatter that had turned from medicine to personal beliefs to the subject of more carnal relations—or rather, the lack thereof—in record timing. Mercy, as she was known widely by members of Overwatch, wasn't someone Moira would have ever pegged as a lesbian or even as someone who partook in activities of the carnal sort, so the rather colourful lamentations regarding her dry spell had amused the geneticist somewhat.

When asked about her own relations, the Irishwoman had admitted to casual hook-ups with some of the lovely lasses who filled the Overwatch ranks, often just after a match, but nothing serious. Why the blonde was so surprised by that admission was beside her, but Moira had found herself at the receiving end of a lecture—and one that was ridiculously romantic given the field medic's age.

When she had remarked that it was foolish that someone in her position still believed so steadfastly in matters of the heart, the blonde had grown even more impassioned. Fair cheeks flushed rosy, Mercy had been a sight to behold as she defended her stance-and despite herself, Moira wanted to believe it, too.

Blame it on her exhaustion, but it had seemed like a great idea at the time to kiss Dr. Angela "Mercy" Ziegler—and when she wasn't pushed away, their tongues twisting together in a heated dance for dominance, the soundness of that judgment shone through.

It was only when she pulled away that she noticed the tang of alcohol on the upright medic's tongue, but before she could question it, she found herself at the receiving end of another blistering hot kiss.

Which brings us back to the present.

Mercy had hopped up onto the stainless steel table top and long legs were wrapped around the redhead's waist. Her pencil skirt was riding up, exposing pale, toned thighs to Moira's wandering hands and her blouse had been discarded sometime ago. If the cold touch of metal bothered her, she didn't give any indication as she pressed herself flush against the other woman. Fingers tangled in short red locks, tugging slightly, and Mercy moaned when teeth stung the pale column of her throat.

This wasn't a great place for this activity. Sure the room was soundproof, but that didn't mean the doors were barred against anyone else coming—

Mercy whimpered into Moira's ear, her hand covering the one against her thigh and sliding it to where heat radiated from the thin cotton covering over her womanhood, and the geneticist lost track of what she had been thinking.

To hell with it. It was a damn good thing she'd trimmed her nails down from their usual razor points. Not that that would have stopped her from getting what she wanted...

Slender fingers pushed Mercy's underwear aside to tug teasingly at the neat strip of blonde hair between parted thighs. She didn't give the woman what she wanted right away, rubbing and prodding until she was met with gasps and whimpers that invoked an almost cruel sense of satisfaction. This Mercy, so wanton, melting in the palm of her hand, was one the self-righteous fools in Overwatch would never see.

Her free hand trembled slightly as she lifted it and released flaxen locks from their usual bun and she masked the gesture by burying it in silky waves and tugging until Mercy tilted her head back. As she assaulted pale flesh with teeth and tongue, she continued to play with the wetness between the blonde's legs, keeping her squirming with that torturous barely-there pleasure until her inner muscles twitched desperately, only to cease contact entirely. This vicious cycle went on until Mercy, panting and clawing at the smooth curve of the shoulder pads built into Moira's robe, groaned something that sounded suspiciously like an expletive into the Irishwoman's ear.

"Mm? Didn't catch that."

Mercy glared, the expression failing to deliver any sort of intimidation in her current state, and Moira once again found her hand being lead where it needed to go. When she refused to enter the throbbing sex of the younger woman, Mercy released a frustrated sound.

"Why are you teasing me?" That throaty, borderline cross tone was actually quite alluring and Moira's sex suffused with wet heat in response. She didn't let it show as she drew patterns on the inside of a pale thigh.

Why indeed? She usually wasn't one to waste time like this, but there was something about toying with the normally put-together medic that satisfied her in more ways than a quick bang would. Odd, that.

"Moira..." Warm flesh squeezed down around her hand, stilling her teasing fingertips to a degree. She looked up, coolly meeting a heated gaze.

Once again, the nonverbal command went unheeded and Moira shifted her attention to fondle full breasts through the thin cotton fabric that covered them. Even through the bra, she could feel the erect buds that begged for her attention and she heeded the call, yanking both cups down so that they caught beneath the swell of creamy peaks, and assaulting rosy nipples with her tongue and fingers. Mercy cried out, a shudder running the full length of her nubile form as she arched her back for more-

To which Moira leaned back, flicking her thumb across pert nipples idly, but refusing to give them the treatment they craved.

"Stop teasing me." There was a bit more iron in her voice, a layer of command borne of a desperate need to orgasm. Moira smirked, entertaining the idea of stringing the blonde along until she begged, but pouty lips pressed kisses to the curve of her jaw and a throaty voice mewled, "Make me come."

Suddenly, she couldn't find it in herself to engage in this game of cat and mouse any longer. Patience wasn't her strong suit, after all.

The blonde moaned eagerly, gratefully as fingers slid into her snatch, the penetration made easy by just how wet she was. Astonishingly wet—perhaps more so than she had been in quite some time, Moira heard her remark with hushed awe. She didn't give the younger woman time to dwell on it as she began to fuck her hard and deep, her fingers moving mercilessly to find places deep within the blonde's snatch that made her buck and whine.

Her hips moved of their own volition and she rode Moira's fingers in earnest, burying her fingers in short red locks as the tall woman leaned in to abuse her breasts with teeth and tongue. Fair skin bruised easily, displaying the possessive markings left in the wake of parted lips that applied suction and teeth that bit down just a bit too hard for it to be entirely pleasurable.

Ecstasy washed over Mercy, an all-encompassing wave that threatened to overwhelm her. She wasn't sure if it was because of the sinfulness of doing it here, with the threat of being discovered by her allies or if it was because Moira, her enemy, was the one driving her to the blink of oblivion, but she was going insane. Despite her earlier reservations, this "casual hook-up" was by far the best sex she'd ever had and she bucked, her inner muscles squeezing to prolong the euphoric sensations.

"Moira..." Blue eyes were dark, smouldering with want and she worried her bottom lip with her teeth in a futile attempt to mute the debauched litany that left her. "Das macht mich verrückt!"

Good. Let her lose her mind. The redhead tugged blonde hair again, leaning in to kiss Mercy as she gasped-

A streak of neon purple caught Moira's attention and she frowned and increased her pace even as her attention shifted. No rest for the wicked, or so they say.

"Oh God...!" Mercy's inner muscles clenched hotly around her fingers when she wriggled them, the blonde giving a muffled shout as she reached climax. Moira actually allowed her a moment to catch her breath before removing her fingers and wiping them clean on the woman's lab coat. She lingered close to the euphoric blonde, watching with bemusement as Mercy pulled herself together.

Just why had the evening gone this way? Perhaps she would never know.

When Mercy's hands fumbled with the front of the dark robe the woman wore, she took a quick step backwards. It was with a measure of smugness that she surveyed her handiwork: the pristine field medic's hair was mussed, the fair skin of her throat and breasts littered with purpling bruises. Pale blue eyes were unfocused, though they sharpened a degree when the redhead placed more distance between them.

"What about...?"

"No need." Not that she didn't want to... If her hunch was correct, she was merely out of time. "This was fun. We really must do it again sometime."

She turned her back, but not before witnessing the hurt in blue eyes. Had she really thought her romantic inclinations had gotten through to the older woman? Hah! The redhead's footsteps rang out loudly in the tense silence that followed as she showed herself out.

"Moira—"

Moira smirked as the doors swung shut behind her, slipping her hands into her pockets as she sauntered off into the cooling night. Sombra was waiting for her outside, arms crossed and a single perfectly arched eyebrow raised as though to ask, really?

"Did you enjoy the show?"

"Pendeja."

She chuckled as they departed, though a troubling thought niggled at the back of her mind: Mercy's eyes, that hurt shade of blue, had made something within her resonate sympathetically. Was she getting soft?

She scoffed at the very notion and Sombra shot her a questioning look.

Despite her dismissal... Maybe, just maybe, she would call the blonde in the morning.

-To be continued...?-

As always, thoughts are appreciated. Thanks for reading! I may continue this in some way, pending reader response.