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No. 995
I'm gonna post this here but I'm not entirely sure if it's where it belongs...

Anyway, slightly based on the characters of the legendary Cuanta Vida by Kytri, slightly based off a piece of artwork by Vectorkitten, I give you this. Enjoy.


Scout moodily stormed down the hallway of the BLU base, heading for Spy’s room. He couldn’t take it anymore. The way that fagcock got concerned for him, looked so sharp and queerly hot, but was also so fucking oblivious to the effect it had on him. Reaching the door he hesitated for a split second, fist raised. He had no qualms about banging on the door until he got an answer but he didn’t want to wake the entire team up. It was well past lights out so everyone was probably asleep. Unless Sniper was busy being banged by the RED cockfag Spy.

Which lead to the impromptu question of: /“Is it a requirement to be an assfucker to become a Spy or something?"/
Shaking the irrelevant thought away he lowered the bandaged fist to rest on the doorknob. He didn’t want Soldier or Medic or anyone to interrupt this by barging in. And it wasn’t like Spy was going to be doing anything important. And if he was, fuck it! He hastily opened the door and shut it with quiet force, striding into the room with purpose.

Spy was slumped over his desk, still dressed in his suit and wearing that fruity mask. Papers lay underneath him. Scout frowned at the passed out Frenchman. He had run out of the limited patience he had earlier in the evening, which was why he had even come here in the first place. He needed the queer awake and he was NOT waiting for morning. Shaking the man’s shoulder, he watched as the light sleeper stirred quickly, sitting up and looking up at him with bleary eyes.
“Scout?” Spy asked. His accent was slightly stronger from tiredness and it was only adding to Scout’s drive. “What are you doing ‘ere so early?” He clearly noticed the look on the young American’s face as his eyes fully opened, worried. “Is something wrong?”

Scout glared at him for a moment, abandoning all forms of thinking in that second. Grabbing hold of Spy’s mask he tore it off angrily, ignoring stammered exclamations. His spare hand flew to the knot of the blue tie and jerked Spy forward onto his feet. Spy resisted, holding the hand on his tie as he tried to pry the fingers loose, naively trying to find out the motive behind Scout’s forceful actions. Scout’s expression only darkened at the escape attempt, his irritation reaching boiling point. “Fucking fag.”

Gripping the tie and the back of Spy’s head (and making sure he fisted some of the soft, tufty brown locks in his fingers), he pulled hard and crashed his lips against Spy’s. The older man froze and Scout was more than eager to take advantage. He pressed himself closer, ensnaring Spy with his arms and aggressively kissing him, releasing his pent up frustration and affection for the dense assfucker. When his captive began to slowly react, nervously returning the kiss, Scout openly hummed his approval. He slowed to match Spy’s pace, still holding him tightly. Partly to keep him from fleeing, partly because he liked this proximity and partly to prevent any thoughts from entering his head apart from basic instinct.

Spy was still trying to take a step back though and something in Scouts mind warned him that if the queer slipped away now, everything would be ruined. Their friendship, this moment, it would be wrecked. Running with that, Scout pursued and refused to give an inch to the lightweight. He only broke the kiss for air and immediately regretted it when Spy uttered his name, confused and...maybe awed? The tone, the accent, the breath on his parted lips; it all sank under the young man’s skin and heated his already racing pulse. Muttering more discourteous, yet complimenting curses, he passionately seized Spy’s mouth again with his own.

Warm hands were wrapping gently around him, brushing against him lighter then feathers. Spy was relaxing slightly but was still holding back. Spies were meant to hold back shit but he wasn’t even a fucking good spy. Scout pushed hard into him, vocally restrained but determined to communicate his displeasure at Spy’s distant nature. They somehow ended up on the floor from Scout’s rough shove, the younger straddling the older. It may not have been the intention but it did the trick, as Scout was firmly planted in Spy’s lap. And with his object of desire trapped between his legs, the impatient Bostonian found he could rearrange his hands as he pleased since they were no longer needed to keep Spy still.

One hand held his waist while the other returned to his tie possessively. The only thought circling Scout’s mind was how this was all his; the soft kiss that was gradually opening under repeated, passionate onslaught; the warm, lithe body, painted with scars and tan lines; the gentle hold and feathery touches; the expressions that were evident even with that fucking mask on. He mutely growled, remembering the others. How it first appeared that Sniper was sleeping with Spy. How Medic always wanted Spy in his ward. How RED Spy would continually sidle up next to Spy. How RED Scout would try to get in Spy’s space.

Unable to contain himself, Scout vigorously slipped his tongue into Spy’s mouth, trying to get more out of him, trying to lay more claim on him. Again, Spy was slow to react and when he did, his actions were more subdued, softer then Scout’s rough, eager pace. It both calmed and infuriated his partner, which was confusing. It was comforting to have the tempo slowed. It made the kiss feel more sensual, more like a real kiss then a desperately frustrated runner throwing himself upon his teammate. But at the same time, it just wasn’t enough for Scout. It always felt like Spy was keeping something back and he wanted to have it all.

He had no idea what made him do it. He was thinking about getting under Spy’s skin when the hand on Spy’s waist let go, the arm raising and posed to strike. The fingers straightened out, together, tense. Scout released Spy’s lips to look him in the eyes as he thrust his hand forward with his body, putting all his emotion behind it. Scout’s arm speared through Spy’s chest, ripping past ribs and organs and breaking out his back, fingers drenched in red and lightly pressed against the floor.

Spy didn’t flinch. Or even acknowledge the wound. Scout hazily remembered that Spy could take serious damage and often treated it like it was nothing, while getting riled up about little things. He watched Spy to see how he would take it. The man looked up at him evenly and Scout could see blood forming behind his mouth. Spy wound an arm behind him and pulled him close, giving him an affectionate kiss, finally letting go of his reservations, finally letting him /in/. Blood poured onto their lips and Scout shifted closer, opening his mouth to lick the liquid away.

His arm was still impaling him, locking them together. Fluid dripped down the limb, painting it red and soaking the bandages on his wrist. It didn’t taste like blood. Scout tilted his head, demanding entry to taste more so he could determine its flavour. With each lap of his tongue, collecting the ‘blood’, it felt like he was sinking into Spy. The hand pressing him close was encouraging, the open mouth and stroking tongue practically feeding him the liquid. Someone, or maybe both, moaned. He shifted, pushing his elbow deep into the wound so he could curl his arm around Spy’s back, holding him close.

Scout awoke very sharply, breathing deeply. His head twitched manically, absorbing the dark room. It was his, with the door shut and curtains drawn to block out any light, artificial or natural. He had dreamt of confronting Spy before but that had felt horribly real...He had never been so forceful or even brutal before. On reflex he lifted his right arm, shaking slightly when he recalled the sensation of skewering Spy. There wasn’t anything there of course, despite the ghostly feeling of warm, running liquid still lingering on the skin. Shuddering, Scout curled up tighter in his blankets, tired eyes wide. His frustration had been replaced with confusion and anxiety. He wasn’t sleeping tonight.
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>> No. 1003
Wow ... just ... wow.

It would be Scout to make the first move in CV ... unless he gets frustrated and decides to punch Spy in the face again
>> No. 1004
>Scout’s arm speared through Spy’s chest, ripping past ribs and organs
Damn, I feckin' FELT that! Poor BLU Scoot, he just wants some love.
>> No. 1012
Oh my.


I love you so hard.
>> No. 1013

I love you too! It was the Undenied picture you drew that inspired me with this =) *gives cookies*
>> No. 1019
If this was beta'd, this might be a bit more polished, but I enjoyed it anyways.

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