oh i forgot to post this one. and i still havent written the last request i kind of ran out of steam.... anyway, sniper/third gender pyro, pyro is reluctant to remove her suit
It was an unlikely bond at first glance, but upon further reflection, it seemed inevitable that the team loners would form a close relationship. It happened by accident, really. Sniper had gone up to the roof to smoke, and Pyro had come up a few minutes later. The firestarter saw Sniper’s lighter and became entranced. As Pyro’s flamethrower was in storage until battle, Sniper passed the lighter over, smiling as he watched giddy hands flick the flint over and over.
It was an unlikely relationship, but one that became rather close over time. They met nightly on the roof after that first encounter. Sniper would hand Pyro his lighter immediately, laughing about how his teammate was going to waste all the fluid as Pyro eagerly lit it and watched the flame dance before smoky lenses.
The relationship began to extend beyond evenings on the roof; in battle, Pyro would Spy-check Sniper’s nest whenever the opportunity arose, and Sniper would pick off anyone that happened to be following his short teammate. Friendly banter after hours later segued into more personal conversation. Stunningly to Pyro, Sniper had no problems understanding the words muffled by the mask, and slowly, Pyro began to open up more and more to the man.
“You know, mate,” Sniper mused, laying back on the slanted metal roof, “I’ve heard you laugh I don’t know how many times through that mask, but…” he rolled his cigarette thoughtfully between his fingers, “I’ve never seen your smile.”
Pyro froze. The topic had come up with others before, but never with Sniper. Pyro had been relieved with that, thinking perhaps the lanky man didn’t care, but all perceptions were eventually shattered, it seemed. “You want me to take off my mask,” came the muffled response, voice smaller than usual. Sniper sat up, putting a hand on the other’s back.
“I—well. I mean, I would like to… to know, but… Shit, I’m sorry. I don’t want to make you do anything you’re uncomfortable doing.”
Pyro sighed, fingers moving to grip the edges of the mask. It was pushed up slowly, each centimeter revealing a patchwork of scars from cuts and burns, bright pink and white against light brown skin. Eventually, a mouth was revealed. What was left of the lips looked dry and chapped, twisted with healed and damaged skin. The corners of those lips twisted upward into a mockery of a smile; one Pyro put no heart into, turning to the marksman.
“Is this what you wanted?” Pyro asked, maintaining the pose. White teeth gleamed in the dim light, dangerous and enticing all at once.
Sniper stared, not sure whether he was surprised that the voice sounded more masculine without the gas mask barrier. After a moment, he shook his head. “No,” he said quietly, hand moving to touch the back of the mask. Pyro quickly pulled it back down, turning away.
“Pyro…” Sniper trailed, trying to stay close, “I’m sorry. I only meant… I don’t just want to see your mouth. I want… I want to see all of you.”
“To laugh at the freak, right?” Pyro replied bitterly, “To stare at the scars in horrified fascination, comment on how I look like a gnarled tree but feel like plastic—” There was a definite sadness in the voice. Pyro turned completely away from the man.
“No, never,” Sniper soothed, “never. You’re… I would never want to laugh at you or hurt you. I’ve seen scars before; bloody big burn scars, ones what’s taken a man’s nose and ears, and I know how much it hurt him; not physically, but in his heart. I’d never do that to you.” He ran a hand reassuringly down the back of the chem suit. “I care about you, Pyro,” he leaned closer, “a lot.”
Pyro turned back to him, looking at his face, then looked down. “It’s not just… it’s not just the scars,” the firestarter said quietly. Sniper put a bare hand over a gloved one.
Pyro took the hand back and covered the mask with it. “You wouldn’t understand. No one does. That’s why I… why I’m….”
A muffled sob escaped the filter, and Sniper reached out, hugging his teammate close. Pyro hugged back, shuddering in his hold.
“I might not understand,” Sniper soothed, “but I would never hurt you. You gotta believe me, Py.” Pyro pressed closer into that chest, gripping Sniper’s jacket, sniffling just a while longer.
Finally, finally, Pyro sat back up, Sniper’s hands still in place. Fingers went back to the edges of the mask again, and this time, removed it completely.
Scars covered most of Pyro’s face, layers of scars twisting over cheeks and forehead. An ear was gone, but the hole was covered by thick black hair that fell to Pyro’s chin. The nose was intact, a dark reddish-tan compared to the pale scars that twisted over the rest of the skin. Deep brown eyes looked out at Sniper from under an eyebrowless forehead.
“Am I a man or a woman?” Pyro asked simply.
Sniper stared back mutely, uncertain how to answer.
Pyro smiled slightly, a pink tongue grazing over the chapped lips. “It’s alright. I didn’t expect you to know. The truth is that I’m neither.” The brown eyes looked away, then back again. “I prefer to be called by “she” and “her”, though,” she said softly.
“So… you used to be a woman, or…?” he asked, lifting an eyebrow in confusion.
“No,” she replied, “I’m neither. I told you you wouldn’t understand.” She sighed, scrubbing a gloved hand over the tangled mess of hair. “What I am… it’s particular to where I come from. I was told I was a man when I was born, but as I grew, the elders acknowledged me as something else: the third gender. I was respected in my town, but, there were others who did not understand. That is how… how I got…” she sighed again, looking away. “And it is why I stay covered. No one here would respect me if they knew, as I am sure I’ve lost your respect now—”
“No, no, I keep telling you, Pyro, I’d never hurt you. I think I understand—maybe I will better over time—but it don’t change how I feel about you. Nothin’ could.” He reached out to touch Pyro’s cheek, and when she didn’t pull away, he caressed the gnarled skin with his thumb. Pyro looked at him from under her brow, a frown tugging at the corners of her mouth, but Sniper only smiled. “I care about you, Pyro,” he repeated, leaning ever closer. “Can I…”
“Yes,” Pyro replied, leaning forward as well, connecting their mouths.
The kiss was different than anything Sniper had ever experienced; the texture of Pyro’s lips was strange, but not unpleasant. Her tongue, however, was soft against his, and they melted into each other.
Eventually, Sniper led the other back to his nest. Pyro had to remove her own suit, but once they had both stripped down, Sniper laid her back on his cot, tracing fingers over scars and outlining patches of untouched skin. Pyro sighed at the touches, moving her hips slowly against his, cock getting harder with each brush of his hands.
“You ever had someone go down on you?” he asked, a smirk pulling at his lips.
Pyro smiled back, hands running over knife scars on Sniper’s back. “It has been a long time.”
“Lemme remind you what it feels like, then,” he grinned, kissing her thoroughly before moving his mouth lower on her body.
Kisses trailed from her chest to her hips, one of the rare areas untouched by burns. Her cock stood erect, and Sniper palmed it, earning little pants and gasps from his lover. Once Pyro was squirming, he leaned down to flick his tongue over the head.
“Mmm,” she moaned, tangling a hand in short hair. Sniper took the encouragement, taking the head into his mouth and sucking gently. Before long, Pyro was bucking against him, seeking more of that heat as Sniper slid his hand up and down the shaft, then finally pushed past his gag reflex and took her length into his throat.
Years of self-imposed celibacy caught up with Pyro, and she was almost incoherent with pleasure. “Sniper, i’m going to—” she cried, and Sniper stayed where he was, keeping up the stimulation as she came down his throat, swallowing easily. The contractions of his mouth prolonged Pyro’s feeling of bliss, and she collapsed, boneless, against the stiff bedding.
Sniper pulled off of her, grinning as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and moved up to lean over her.
“That was… God, that was so good,” Pyro sighed, running hands over the man’s back. “Now let me repay the favor,” she added, moving a hand down the marksman’s body. Sniper reached out to stop her.
“Don’t you worry about that, darlin’,” his grin turned soft, “this was for you. Just for you.” He ran a hand over her face, kissing her gently, and she returned it lazily. “Tomorrow, though, might appreciate the reciprocation.”
Pyro laughed at that, and held him close, delighting in the feeling of bare skin against her own, finally feeling some freedom from her bonds.