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Spy/Medic - Chances (12)

1 .

Hello, and now, for fanfiction. I'm intending this to be two parts, possibly more, depending on how people feel about a continuation story - I'm still weighing up the pros and cons, I don't like something to exhaust its steam.

Anyway, enjoy le smuts. <3

--- Chances [part I] ---

Spy was bored.

Things were oddly quiet around the BLU base. He supposed there had to be some downtime now and then; otherwise they would never be able to lick their wounds, so to speak. Broken bones, bruises and scars needed time to heal. Poor Scout.

He decided to take advantage of the peace and head outside for a smoke.

Finding a barrel to sit upon, he gazed idly at the RED building as he lit up. Quiet there, too. The last battle had left both sides bruised and bleeding.

He wasn't remotely afraid, aware that in battle he would be a wall-splatter if he dared this: it was an unwritten rule between the teams to turn the other way if they happened to see one of their opposition alone. There was no point picking a fight over some sorry bastard who wanted to see the sunshine. Or, like Spy, fill the surrounding air with monoxides.

He nonetheless kept an eye out. The RED Soldier was not the most stable of characters, and nothing ruined a cigarette break like dodging rockets.

Same surroundings, none of it changed. It was amazing how even the crates remained in the same place when bullets, bombs and bats frequently smashed everything.

Out of the corner of his field of vision, there was a brief flash of white. Spy looked up and across at once, sure he had seen something – someone – move.

Might've been the reflection off of 2Fort's pool, but curiosity had snared him, as well as the desire not to have a little red dot glow against his forehead. If it was just RED screwing around with drills or something, he could make himself scarce – stealth, after all, was his specialty.

He silently approached what was some sort of tool shed – probably where the Engineer kept his damnable parts. Spy smirked. He wondered if the RED Engineer was still pissed that he was five sentries down since the last skirmish.

There was a convenient gap in the cheap, slightly charred wood, and Spy peered in carefully.

The white was explained: a lab coat lay across one of the boxes inside. The RED Medic, obviously. What was he up to?

Spy sought him out, and saw him, looking slightly anxious, checking he hadn't been followed. At least, by the doorway. Spy was quite invisible where he was. Now, what was the doctor up to? Spy wouldn't have normally cared – Medic was not his idea of a real threat – but the look on his face aroused his suspicions. Germ warfare?

Finally, Medic seemed content he was alone, and sat down on the floor, leaning back against the crates. Spy was just about to leave, when Medic tugged at his belt, unclasping it.

Spy froze. He hadn't expected that.

He watched as Medic's gloves were sacrificed next – who knew the doctor had such nice, tapered fingers under those thick gloves? – before he attacked the zip of his uniform jodhpurs, pushing them down as far as his knees.

Spy grinned to himself. He was no longer bored. His voyeuristic streak didn't care if the man wore the RED uniform. Especially as most of it was discarded around the doctor. Although, he needed a better position from which to watch... closer would be ideal...

He cloaked, and slid inside the shed, taking position behind a different stack of boxes. He was fairly confident that Medic's peripheral vision was going to be rather... inhibited.

Medic had by now was exposed; hard and jutting against his undershirt. Spy admired his form. He could see faint lines of musculature under the cotton shirt, his hips were nicely sculpted and...

Medic's hand trailed over his thigh to its target, curling into a fist. He visibly relaxed; Spy detected he had been denied for sometime. He knew exactly how that was, he thought, surreptitiously adjusting his suit, which was a little tight somewhere, without taking his eyes off of the Medic.

The doctor didn't waste any time, his fist moving fast and sharply, his eyes squeezing shut. He looked good, sweating slightly – maybe a little fear of being caught mixed in with his pleasure – writhing slightly, his breathing more audible. He looked a little desperate. It reminded Spy of that expression he saw when he had a knife pressed against the flesh of someone's neck, begging for it to be over quickly...

A terrible waste, Spy thought. Why so fast?

It almost looked painful, Medic bit his lip and the sound of skin on skin was driving Spy crazy. He had to be crazy, he thought, because the idea floating through his mind was rooting itself, and he was going to do the craziest thing...

"Looks like fun," Spy murmured, standing up from his hiding place.

Medic's reaction was positively comic. His eyes flew wide, and he scrambled backward as though the contents of the shed would come to his rescue.

"Calm down," Spy soothed, before diving on the man and covering his mouth: Medic had been about to scream. "No, none of that. I'm not here to kill you."

Medic still looked wide-eyed under his gloved hand. Spy sighed.

"I'm going to raise my hand. Don't yell for help. You'll just embarrass yourself and I'll be long gone."

Spy raised his hand, and stepped back. The Medic gazed up at him suspiciously, but looked surprised he wasn't a bloodied puddle.
Marked for deletion (old)

2 .

"What do you want?" Medic said, rather hoarsely.

Spy smirked, answering bluntly: "I was watching you. And I liked it."

Medic was breathing heavily, looking struck dumb.

Spy took the opportunity to rake his eyes over the man appreciatively. Medic noticed, and it seemed like Spy's words had rung true.

"Me?" Medic couldn't help but say. "I thought you spies had enough femme fatale followers..."

Spy snorted slightly. "Not much good to me, mon ami." The implicature was clear in his wry smile.

Medic seemed to be fighting an internal battle. Spy wondered if he ought to help him reach the mutually satisfying decision, but –

"No tricks?" Medic asked, his gaze more confident, eyeing the Spy seriously.

"None," Spy affirmed, raising his hands. As an added gesture, he pulled his butterfly knife from his pocket – Medic hesitated – and tossed it behind him. If he had to make a sudden escape, he still had his cigarette case.

Medic smiled, convinced. "Just... keep lookout out as well," he warned, thinking of his RED comrades.

Spy sat down, looking pleased with himself.

Worth it, he thought, watching as the doctor resumed a comfortable position, and stroked himself with less ferocity than before, as though self-conscious before his audience, occasionally looking upward, to make sure Spy was still there.

Spy remained silent, eyes smouldering, drinking in the sight. This was better – far better – than reading his bi-monthly magazines.

The doctor soon grew used to the eyes on him, and Spy noticed that the Medic was starting to really test his new-found power over him.
One hand slid past the other and stroked below his cock, around the inside of his thigh, trailing over his body with mere fingertips. Spy stopped a soft, frustrated growl rising from his throat.

Medic continued leisurely, hand sliding under his shirt and he groaned softly; Spy was regretting tossing his knife away, he just wanted to hear that cotton rip under the blade to see what he was missing –

Medic shuddered, and his hands sank below the waist again, seizing his cock and resuming that breakneck speed. Spy let out a slow breath. He really was desperate for it, wasn't he...

But he had tried to be entertaining, and Spy felt the urge to offer his gratitude.

Medic heard a shuffle, and opened his eyes slowly, noticing the blue suit was suddenly a lot closer. "No-no tricks..." he panted warningly, although horribly aware he was defenceless, and dammit, he wanted to at least die happy...!

He cried out as his hands were pulled away, and suddenly a gloved hand took over, firmer than his own but stroking him slowly, but he couldn't stop his hips quivering into the other man's strokes, and if his mind wanted to protest, his mouth was nothing but encouraging.

Spy smiled. He knew enough German to know he was doing a good job.

He could tell the other man wasn't going to be able to hold out for long, so he had forced him to slow down, enjoy it. It was cruel to be kind, he justified, although the little curses slipping from Medic's mouth were making him ache.

Medic's hands suddenly grasped the shoulders of his suit.

"Ich – I-"

But Spy already knew, and hushed him, watching Medic's expression raptly as his body tensed.

A deep, shuddering gasp, and Medic came, with a hard upward thrust into Spy's fist, his body's tension snapping like elastic as opaque, liquid heat spattered over his stomach and the black gloves wrapped around his cock.

Spy could almost feel the strength of that orgasm. His legs felt peculiarly shaky.

Medic was a delicious mess in front of him. Now, post-coitus, he wondered what the enemy Medic would think, and whether he should pick up his knife for his own safety...

Medic pulled his jodhpurs up awkwardly, looking disconcerted.

"Damn..."

"It's alright," Spy offered, vaguely. "I won't tell."

Medic blinked. "No – I was supposed... to be done quickly... I am supposed to be administering a shot to Heavy about now..."

Spy got the meaning, disappointed. He had a problem of his own. "You owe me," he stated.

Medic smiled, unexpectedly. "I'll administer my special medicine to you sometime," he promised, snapping on a red glove for emphasis. He looked momentarily embarrassed. "And, ah... thank you."

Spy nodded, but noticed as Medic dressed hurriedly that he didn't have his Medigun.

"Why did you come here, anyway?"

Medic made a face as he pulled on his labcoat. "Soldier has been making surprise rounds. Barging in our rooms at all hours, "keep us on our toes" he says. Ha! He hasn't got around to Demo yet, and I think he will soon regret it."

Spy understood Medic's motives immediately. The thought of Soldier bursting in through the door whilst jacking it was decidedly unpleasant.

"You're not as bad as they make out, you know-" Medic began, but when he turned around, Spy was gone.

He sighed deeply, adjusting his glasses. What had he just done? He could've been killed by the BLU spy right then, and been an undignified corpse, to boot.

The contented thrum in his loins insisted it had been worth the risk.

Medic sped off back towards home base. At least he was in a good mood... Heavy screamed through shots like a baby...

*

~ That's all for now. Hope this is a worthwhile first contribution!

3 .

Definitely worthwile!
I vote moarrrrr. :O

4 .

I am not requesting more. I AM DEMANDING MOAR!

There needs to be more Spy/Medic really.

5 .

Ha! I really like the wry observations that underlay a lot of this. Yes, moar, please.

6 .

Moar. Please D:

7 .

I liked it.

8 .

This was incredibly hot, oh god do I love fics like this, that have to do with getting caught masturbating. Enf. I want more too :>

9 .

DO MOAR FAGGIT D:<!!!!
MOOOOOOOAR

10 .

Oh, lub. For real. :o Most excellent.

I also have to mention that I like you using a map. Being able to visualize locations is cool.

11 .

UNF.oh man.MORE.

PLEASE.

12 .

I remember you from my days of being a MGS faget. I WILL ALWAYS LOVE YOU'RE WRITINGS!

13 .

Thanks everyone :D I just wanted to go back and say I appreciate comments, so here I am :) Is nice to have people say they enjoy my writing.

>>10
Yeah, I'm a stickler for canon material, SO 2FORT IT WAS. 2Fort and Dustbowl are my favourite maps.

>>12

Heeey, MGS, good times. :D I still love the fandom, hate that it's been overrun by 9-year-olds. :P I still luffs it. For now, TF2 needs some love. What name did you go by? Were on you on the LJ comm or the old yahoo group? :D
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