A/N: The Successor's Return was a commissioned two-shot story originally written back in November of 2018. Posting it up here and now for people to enjoy.

Summary: After Doomfist finishes retaking control of Talon and setting it on 'the right path', Moira pulls him off to fix all of the damage does to his prosthetic through negligence while he was in captivity. Of course, that's not all she wants him for...

Themes: Rough Sex, Dom/Sub, Big Dick

-x-X-x-

The sound that the skull makes as its crushed within the fingers of a truly massive, dark-skinned hand isn't nearly as loud as one might suspect. But then, with dead silence meeting the action, it's more than loud enough for everyone in the room to hear. As the cranium crumples inwards, the screams of its owner muffled by a wide palm over the mouth, several pairs of eyes watch on, some in fear, some in delight, some with a casual disinterest… and one with a wide smile right below it.

The muffled screaming ends as blood pours from the holes that Akande Ogundimu has so casually punched into the skull before him. Slowly, the man that most of the world knows as Doomfist pulls his hand back, letting the corpse within it fall to the floor of the secret boardroom. Only then does he look at everyone else. Only then does he let a satisfied smile crawl across his face.

"Would anyone else like to question my methods, or my goals?"

Silence falls as the remaining members of Talon's inner council don't even exchange glances with one another. They just continue to look at him… at their new leader. Maximilien nods slowly in deference to the man before him, and Doomfist nods back.

"Good. Talon has fallen low in my absence. But now that I have returned, it will not be a group of petty thieves, concerned only with material wealth."

One of the more cowed inner circle members, a squirrely looking fellow, speaks up in that moment.

"What… what would you have us do then? What is to be Talon's goal?"

It was a good opening, so that man would get to live, despite his questioning tone. Striding up to the table, Doomfist plants his palms down on it and grins wider still as he sweeps his gaze back and forth across the room.

"War, gentlemen. Our goal shall be war."

There's an energy in the room that builds as the big man begins to outline his intentions, his plans, and his goals for Talon. Now that he's back, now that he's corrected Talon's course and brought it back into line with the beliefs, he's carried all his life, Akande has no intention of letting the organization continue to languish in the hands of greedy, self-satisfying individuals.

It's time for them to make some serious changes around here, time for them to fix this broken world the only way that ever had. War would make humanity stronger. It would burn away the fat, it would cut away the chaff. They would see who would rise and who would fall, and when all was said and done, those that remained would be better for it. The world had seen plenty of war. It had seen plenty of bloodshed and death… but only in the midst of conflict did humanity truly shine.

This would be his goal. To push the human race back into the setting in which they were their best. To place them back into circumstances that would see them propelled forward. This era of stagnation that he'd watched take place from within his prison cell, the steps he'd even watched his people take backwards… it was time for it to come to an end.

He says as much, to the inner council. And when its over and a familiar red head taps him on his shoulder and guides him away from the boardroom without a word, Akande follows. He can only hope that his words reached and inspired those that heard them. For their sake, more than anything else.

-x-X-x-

Doctor Moira O'Deorain hums a small tune as she walks into her lab, the entire space coming to life around her, recognizing her presence immediately through half a dozen scans. Filled with state-of-the-art equipment, it's a scientist's wet dream… well, a normal scientist. For her, it's good enough. The best that Talon can buy, in fact, and the primary reason that Moira had even put in the time and effort to become a member of the organization's inner circle in the first place.

Behind her walks the current Doomfist. Or is he not the current Doomfist, because he still didn't have the eponymous gauntlet in his possession? No matter, in the end she'd never really cared for titles anyways.

"Please have a seat, Akande."

The large African man sinks onto the examination table she directs it to, it being perfect height for him to simply sit down on, where most would have had to step up or hop up. Moira can't help but silently admire that physicality, even as she grabs her monitoring equipment and moves over to him. In her moments away, Akande has been quite helpful, going so far as to remove his white suit-jacket, now splattered with the blood of the inner council member he'd killed back in the boardroom. His shirt is off as well, unbuttoned and tossed aside.

Beneath both rest the man himself, his muscular, dark-skinned torso on full display… as well as his prosthetic arm. This is what Moira is ostensibly there for, though she doesn't make any secret of her admiration for the rest of him. If anything, her admiration for his flesh is only matched by her resigned disappointment when she scans his arm and shakes her head.

"Just as I expected… those Hyperion fools couldn't handle the upkeep on this beautiful piece of machinery even if they tried. I assume its not been operating at max efficiency for some time now, yes?"

"Yes."

That's Akande for you. No nonsense, all the time. Well, most of the time. Sighing slightly, Moira moves over to her equipment again. It's the work of moments to get everything she needs, and then the scientist (she's not mad, she's simply not held down by pesky morals) is back over and going to work on his arm. As she does so, Moira makes small talk… because of course, she wasn't a completely heartless monster.

"I assume you'll be going after the gauntlet soon? You've certainly brought the name Doomfist back into the minds and hearts of every last one of those morons back in that boardroom, but to keep it there, they'll need to see it."

"I know. My sources tell me that the gauntlet will be in Numbani within the week, as part of the city's Heritage Museum and… Doomfist exhibit. It's the centerpiece of their Unity Day celebration."

He practically spits that out, almost in a snarl as Moira just smiles slightly, never even hesitating in her work.

"Good, good. You'll have the chance to show them the folly of their ways, won't you?"

"… That I will."

Chuckling at his stoicism, Moira keeps one hand hard at work fixing up parts of his arm, each finger lit up and doing something different to it. The other hand comes up and brushes across Akande's chest, running along his pecs… before descending lower.

"Has it been so long that you've forgotten what we had, you and I?"

Akane's head turns towards her, pulled from his anger as Moira looks up at him and just smiles knowingly. A derisive snort exits the big man's nostrils as they flare. Moira just smiles… and slips her free hand down Akande's pants, taking hold of something that's just as large and hot and thick as she remembered it. A grunt leaves his throat, but he doesn't lose his composure.

"I don't remember us having much, Doctor. But I suppose I did miss… our friendship."

Moira's smile takes on a distinctly seductive edge, and a moment later she finishes up with the maintenance on his prosthetic. For a moment, Akande focuses on it, lifting the mechanical arm up, squeezing his hand into a fist and nodding appreciatively.

"As always, you do excellent work."

A giggle erupts from Moira's throat, because she's already moved on. Both hands working at Akande's pants mean that his cock is already out of its confines by the time he refocuses on her, the dark-skinned shaft growing rapidly in her grasp as she strokes it with both palms, up and down, licking her lips.

"… You are an insatiable minx, woman."

Laughing lightly, Moira slips one hand under the hardening phallus and gropes Akande's balls, watching his face twitch as he hides his reaction to that. Licking her lips, the red head pushes up against him, still playing with his junk.

"If I was truly insatiable, I would have broken you out ages ago, now wouldn't I?"

Akane's eyebrow raises at that.

"And why didn't you?"

Moira licks her lips and her smile turns quite conniving. She's always had a thing for danger… and a habit for pushing too far.

"Perhaps I thought you needed to learn some humility."

Akande's reaction… no, Doomfist's reaction is immediate and violent. In an instant, O'Deorain finds herself spun about and bent over the examination table that her patient had just been sitting on. Her coat is torn off of her, and her clothing follows. Luckily, she's not wearing anything important, the most technologically advanced garment on her is the gloves she'd put on to fix up his arm, and Doomfist leaves those along. Nothing else though, save her socks. In a few moments, she's stripped down, the pale red-head moaning as thick, real fingers slide between her wiggling thighs and spread her sopping wet cunt lips apart before pushing into her.

"A-Ah…"

Doomfist leans over her, the heat of his massive cock pressing into her buttocks as he murmurs into her ear.

"Is that so?"

She really didn't know how to quit while she was ahead. Grinning to herself, biting her lower lip, Moira wiggles around his penetrating fingers and then answers.

"Mm… maybe."

A deep chuckle exits the African man, and then his fingers pull out of her. The scientist has but a moment to be disappointed though, before that big, fat cock is pulling back as well, and then lunging forward. Luckily for Moira, she's already quite wet. Or perhaps its not entirely luck. There's no denying that she was anticipating this, expecting this from the moment that Akande walked into that boardroom. Her body had indeed been longing for him all these years, she wouldn't lie.

They weren't a couple. They'd never been a couple. But the two of them had this kind of relationship. The kind of relationship in which Moira, in awe of his natural physicality, happily jumped the big man's bones every time she saw him. And if it wasn't her jumping him, it was her provoking him, as she had now. His cock splits her open and for a moment the genius scientist lets her mind blank out as her eyes go crossed and a throaty moan leaves her throat.

"Oooh, how I've missed this… f-fuck me, you big brute! Fuck me!"

His palm comes down on her upturned ass and the pale red head cries out as the third incarnation of Doomfist proceeds to do just that. He plows her into her own examination table, thrusting into her as her knees knock together and her hands cling to the bed beneath her upper torso. Moira is left breathless in short order, gasping for air and trying to keep her wits about her, even as his massive hands grip her comparatively tiny waist, his large fingers able to lace within one another as he holds her and fucks her as hard as he can.

"Yes, yes, YESSSSS!"

She's not used to letting go, even more so after so many years apart. She's never been one to let emotions or feelings or basically anything get in the way of her work. But back when Akande was still out, this was the one vice she allowed herself. Once he was locked away, it was something she'd had to leave behind, an addiction she'd gone cold turkey on, not willingly, but without choice.

So of course, given the chance to have him again, to have him INSIDE of her again, Moira leapt at it… or more accurately, she got bent over a table and fucked over it. Her eyes rolling back in her head, the red head screams her pleasure, and only the soundproofed walls of her lab prevent everyone from hearing her pleasured cries. She takes HIS cock to the base again and again, her spasming, tightening cunt meaning almost nothing to him beyond the pleasure it could give him.

Moira loses track of the orgasms. By the time that he finally cums inside of her, by the time his seed paints her insides white and he pulls out to leave his thick ejaculate to leak out of her, Moira is barely conscious. But she's still got enough in her to slide off of the table and spin around, kneeling before him as she takes his cock back in her hands and rubs her face against its messy shaft, moaning happily all the while.

A large hand closes around her head, and for half a beat, the scientist is reminded of what Doomfist had done with that hand only a half hour before. He could kill her right here, right now. He could end her life if he so chose, destroying her beautiful, genius brain in a single instant, as he'd done to that troglodyte back in the boardroom.

But Akande is not simply a killer. He's not simply a mercenary. He's a visionary, and his vision includes her. As his grip remains gentle but firm, as his thick fingers run through her red locks and he looks down at her with a wide grin on his face, Moira has never felt safer, never felt happier. The scientist moans again and nuzzles his cock for a moment more before grinning back up at him.

"I'm glad you're back."

Chuckling, the big African man just nods his head.

"I know."

Then, he pulls her to her feet, sitting her down on the examination table with some of their combined juices smeared across her face as he looks into her eyes.

"This is just the beginning, Moira. Together, we're going to make this world right. We're going to find the limits and then we're going to push past them, smash through them, leaving nothing but the ashes of the past in our wake."

Moira's eyes glitter with excitement, and she makes no effort to hide the wide smile stretching from ear to ear across her face. They're two broken, fucked up, twisted people… and together, they'll only make each other worse for the rest of the world. But perhaps that's what the world needs. Perhaps it needs bad guys beyond what its faced before, perhaps it needs evil to unite against.

Or perhaps Akande is right, and the world needs war. Perhaps good and evil will be meaningless in the end, and only the strong will still stand when all is said and done.

Only time will tell…

-x-X-x-

Elizabeth Caledonia Ashe was fuming. Not that any of her men would actually say so, or even suggest she was doing anything of the sort, not in a million years. But the truth was, she was most certainly fuming. Despite the train job going relatively well, it couldn't be said to have gone according to plan. That damn bastard, that traitor McCree… he'd gotten the drop on them when he shouldn't have, and humiliated both her and her men.

Hadn't even had the decency to finish the job either, the soft-hearted fool. She'd get her revenge on him some day, both for his mercy and for his fucking betrayal. Regardless, whatever it was he'd wanted, whatever was in that high-tech egg-shaped crate, it was out of her reach now. Ashe was woman enough to acknowledge it, but that didn't mean she had to accept it, damn it!

Growling, the white-haired leader of the Deadlock Gang grabs her drink off of the makeshift desk in front of her and knocks it back. She was probably a little drunk by this point, given she'd gone through over half the bottle of scotch on the table before her. Doesn't stop her from taking the open container and going to pour herself another drink though.

However, right as she's watching the liquid flow into her glass, there's a knock on her door, and then, against all of her instructions, the door actually opens and one of her men barges in. The audacity is enough to see Ashe slamming both bottle and glass down as she reaches for her gun, but to his credit, the intruder has the good sense to explain himself immediately, holding up his hands as he gets loud right fast.

"B-Boss! Sorry to intrude boss, but you're gonna wanna come see this! It's… It's Talon! They just showed up on our damn doorstep! HE'S here!"

Ashe freezes in the middle of picking up her rifle at that, her eyes going wide slightly, thankfully behind the table, so the flunky doesn't see her surprise. For a moment, Ashe stays frozen… then she rises up, her expression schooled, even as she pulls down and up on her rifle, cocking it.

"Get the fuck out."

The bandit immediately spins on his heel and races out of the room, scrambling to get away. Ashe watches him go, and only once she's done does she curse.

"Shit… shit, shit, shit!"

Holding her gun in one hand, she moves to grab her glass, before ultimately deciding better of it. Instead, her free hand closes around the neck of the scotch bottle, and Ashe quickly brings it to her lips, knocking back the rest of the drink within before tossing the now-empty bottle against a far wall. Growling once more, the Deadlock Gang's sole remaining leader makes her way out of her office, gun in hand.

What she finds is exactly what her flunky described. Talon has indeed landed right outside of the large, hangar-like cave that they've made their hideout in, and they've come in force. Three gunships, weapons hot, and in front… Ashe can't help but grit her teeth at the sight of the man there, standing tall, chiseled like some damn statue and just as still too.

Doomfist… and he's even got the gauntlet back. She'd heard something about that, maybe. Wasn't like they got much information about the rest of the world out here in the American Southwest. It was and always would be a shithole. But it was her shithole, and she liked it well enough. Still, world-changing events like Doomfist breaking out of prison and taking back his gauntlet were able to reach on the wind.

So yeah, she wasn't too surprised to see him out and about. She wasn't too surprised to see his company either, top operatives with Talon like Widowmaker and Reaper flanking him on either side. It was… pretty much exactly what a power play WOULD look like. As she walks up to the mouth of the cave, Bob clanks up beside her and the rest of the gang hangs back like the damn cowards they are, probably pissing themselves.

But she didn't need them. She didn't fucking need any of them. Relying on those idiots was how McCree had gotten the better of her. She'd let herself forget the most important lesson one had to learn out in the real world. You can only rely on yourself. So that's what she was going to do. Bringing the Viper up and letting it rest on her shoulder, Ashe plants her free hand on her hip, cocking it out to the side as she makes sure she's the picture-perfect expression of confidence in the face of this fucking overwhelming display of firepower on her doorstep.

She's actually a little pleased when Doomfist's gaze finally stops moving about her place and focuses instead on her. That's right big boy, the only one worth looking at was right in front of him now. Though, she did wish she'd grabbed a stick of gum. She needed something to chew, her jaw was fucking twitching!

"You're the one they call Ashe then? Leader of the Deadlock Gang?"

Right down to it… huh, she kind of liked that. Jutting out her chin in a bit of a nod, Ashe eyes the large, muscular man up and down.

"That's right. And you're Doomfist. Talon under new management then?"

Wasn't a hard leap to make, given the circumstances. Doomfist gets out, Doomfist gets his gauntlet back, Doomfist shows up at her hideout with gunships and Talon Operatives at his sides. Ashe hadn't gotten to where she was by being oblivious by any stretch of the imagination.

"I'm not sure 'new' is the word I would use, but yes, I am in control."

He was confident. Normally, she didn't like that in a man. She certainly didn't like it in McCree, that rat bastard. But there was something about this Doomfist fella that had her second-guessing her instincts.

"That so? And what brings you to my doorstep, Mister 'In Control'?"

There's a pause and she sees Widowmaker and Reaper exchanging a glance behind Doomfist's back. But the smile on the big man's face doesn't fade for even a second. Instead, he steps forward, both of his bear-like hands disappearing behind him, even the one covered in that massive golden gauntlet. He clasps them behind his back, or at least makes a show of doing so, staring her down as he spreads his log-sized legs apart.

The action draws the eye just a bit, though Ashe doesn't let her gaze linger. There is a small inkling in the back of her mind now though, just a bit of… curiosity.

"You are Elizabeth Caledonia 'Calamity' Ashe. You are the leader of the Deadlock Gang, and the only founding member to remain after all this time. You once said that your gang would be bigger and better than all others, and that you would write your own legend. Did you not?"

She's a little stunned that he even knows something like that, and in her momentary stupor, she finds herself nodding jerkily in response. Doomfist's smile just grows a bit.

"And then you made it happen. You wrote your own legend and you've turned the Deadlock Gang into the only gang in these parts. You proposed to bring order and principle to the infighting that kept the thieves and scoundrels around these parts disparate and weak. And once you'd finished doing so, you wrote your name across the American Southwest with a string of audacious heists that has put you at the top of the authorities' most wanted list. You've made your legend, my dear. And you ask what brings me to your doorstep?"

By the time he's done speaking, one eyebrow raised in her direction questioningly, Ashe is grinning from ear to ear. She can't help herself. Bringing her rifle down, she spins on her heel as the muzzle digs into the dirt. Looking back over her shoulder, the female bandit smirks at Doomfist.

"Flattery will get you everywhere, darling. Step into my office, let's talk business."

He lets out a bit of a snort, but follows her into the cave all the same, as fearless and confident as any she's ever seen. It's in that moment that Ashe decides she's going to have the big man. One way or another, she's going to have him.

-x-X-x-

Two hands, one flesh and blood, one robotic, grip her waist as a massive, dark-skinned cock pierces her insides. Ashe throws back her head and cries out as she takes Doomfist's cock deep inside of her, kneeling on either side of his broad waist as she is. The man is sat down in the strongest chair they had, something that Bob usually used… and even then, its creaking under their combined weight as she slowly gets used to having such a large, thick rod of meat buried inside of her.

He's bigger than anything she's ever taken up into her cunt before, but Ashe isn't about to let that stop her. She's always looking for a challenge, after all.

"Then we are in agreement?"

His voice booms through the room, deep and questioning. Ashe tosses her hair back and looks down into Doomfist's face, her cherry-red lips curling into a grin as she rolls her hips around atop his cock.

"I dare say we are, my good man. Been a long time since a gentleman approached me with an offer as juicy as yours. Can't deny that I'm interested… and I've never been one to hesitate when I'm interested."

Leaning forward, the naked, pale bandit queen presses her breasts into the equally-naked dark-skinned chest of the large man before her, leaning over him in the process, looking down into his eyes.

"I'm in, Doomfist. The Deadlock Gang will join Talon under the terms you've outlined. So long as we get our piece of the pie and I have my seat at the table… you've got yourself some thieves."

Doomfist smiles, and his robotic hand slides from her waist to the small of her back. His human hand tightens its grip in contrast, and then the next thing Ashe knows, she's bounced on his cock, a quick up and down that leaves her exhaling harshly as she catches herself on him, her own hands palm down on his shoulders.

"F-Fuck, give a girl some warning…"

She mutters that out before she can catch herself, and immediately wants to take it back. Doomfist cocks his head to the side, and his smile turns a bit predatory, as if he can smell blood in the water. Metaphorically, he probably can. This was supposed to be HER seduction of HIM, in order to get herself a better deal, nothing more. It'd become something more somewhere along the way though, and now here she was with a big fat cock buried in her quivering quim, trying to keep her cool as he just stares at her knowingly.

Ashe HAD managed to get a few concessions, but she was beginning to realize with every passing second that they were concessions he'd been prepared to give from the start, that perhaps he'd even wanted to give. His grin widens a little as that thought passes through her head.

"Sorry… I thought you could handle it."

The white-haired gang leader immediately bristles, and her fingers dig into his muscular shoulders as she grits her teeth. But he doesn't so much as flinch at the tightening of her grip. Nor does he retaliate by gripping her any tighter either. He just holds her in place, his cock inside of her, waiting for her response. Which of course, he probably already knows what that's going to be, but damn it, she doesn't care if she's predictable!

Leaning forward, Ashe presses her forehead against his, locking eyes with Doomfist as she turns her grimace into a vicious snarl.

"Do your worst, bastard."

NOW his grip tightens. It's the only warning she gets before she's being fucked from below harder than any man has ever taken her in any position. On her back, on her hands and knees, bent over a desk. Doomfist puts all of her previous lover's to shame in just a few moments with the sheer physicality he exhibits as he fucks her while seated. His hips thrust upwards, his hands pull her downwards, and then he does the reverse, pulling her up, pulling away… and then all over again.

Again, again, and again. Ashe's body bounces and jolts and she cries out as he fucks her like she's nothing but a… a saloon girl! Not that she was in any position to correct that, her head lolling backwards and her hands clinging to him for dear life as he fucks the ever-living hell out of her. The cliché would be to liken it to riding a bucking bronco, but honestly? That doesn't compare to THIS. This is more akin to surviving a fucking tornado, going up against a primal force of nature and managing to make it through in one piece.

The more Doomfist fucks her, the less sure Ashe is she WILL make it through in one piece. She knows she's in serious trouble when he suddenly stands up, taking her with him, his massive hands easily holding her on his cock. Not for long though, because before she knows it, he's laid her down across her desk like… like some trophy, scattering her things to clear a space without a care in the world.

She'd raise some sort of protest, but she's too far gone to speak, words failing her as her cherry-red lips open wider and wider with each moan that passes through them. Doomfist looms over her, holding her by her ass now, lifting it off the desk to reach the same level as his cock as he fucks her and fucks her and fucks her.

This was a mistake. Perhaps all of it was a mistake. She was losing control, had lost control, maybe never had control? As her eyes go crossed, Ashe clings to the edge of her desk for dear life, trying to maintain some semblance of dignity… and utterly failing to do so as ultimately, her eyes roll back in her head, her tongue lolls out of her mouth, and she whites out from the pleasure that getting a good, hard dicking from the leader of Talon brings her.

By the time Ashe comes back to herself, Doomfist has already cum, and is in the process of getting dressed once more. His seed is all over her body, and she can barely move, laid out across her desk like some trophy as she is. Seeing her looking at him, the massive man smiles just a little.

"I look forward to working closely together, my dear. Very closely."

And then he leaves, and Ashe is left to recover on her own. Slowly, she brings a hand up to the valley of her breasts. A finger scoops a dollop of cum from her pale skin and brings it to her cherry-red lips, where she slurps it clean, her tongue exiting her mouth quite lewdly.

She could hardly wait…

-x-X-x-

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-x-X-x-

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