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1 .

Coincidentally, massage is among my kinks-- particularly where Sniper is concerned.

"Have you ever stood up straight in your life?" The Spy sighed.

"Probably. Once or twice. As a kid maybe." The Sniper joked, rolling his neck.

"Stop that, it's sickening, I can hear it when you move." Spy rolled his eyes, beckoning to the other man. "Vest off."

"... What?"

"I'm fixing you. Or I would, if you would take that vest off, and..." He looked around, snorting at his surroundings. The Sniper's bunk was too narrow, the seats no good for it, no place in the van where he could give a proper massage. In the end, he settled on just standing behind the Sniper, stepping in close once the vest was off.

The Sniper sighed, rolling his shoulders and stepping back, tossing his vest up onto his bunk and letting the Spy rub his shoulders, the back of his neck...

"You're tight." Spy said, digging into the Sniper's upper back.

Sniper groaned, his head falling back. "Bloody hell, when'd you learn to do this?"

"I have had some practice." He chuckled. "Can I get your shirt off?"

The Sniper hesitated a moment, before shrugging out of his uniform shirt.

"You keep lotion somewhere, I trust?"

There was another moment of hesitation, before he jerked a thumb towards the cabinet by his bunk, within easy reach. Spy stripped off his gloves, slicking his hands up before going back to the Sniper's shoulders. He also kneaded at the back of his neck again, skirting the undershirt.

"How is your lower back?" He asked.

"It's... uh... Could use work."

"All right." The Spy gave his shoulder a quick squeeze, turning him. "Lean forward on the table."

The Sniper did, head falling forward against his folded arms. The Spy stood behind him, pushing his undershirt up, and he could hear the sound of more lotion being squeezed out into the man's palm, the sound of the Spy's hands rubbing together. He tried not to think about it much, the wet slapping noises, the heat of someone standing so close behind him, the Spy's thighs occasionally brushing his own. He felt exposed, and tried not to think about that, either.

The Spy's hands worked at his lower back, kneading sore muscle, spreading loose warmth out from the base of his spine, relaxing things that had been knotted up tight so long that he hadn't known they could be anything else.

He groaned, and he could have sworn he heard something almost like a grown from the Spy in return, as the man leaned down, adding weight to the massage, breath heavy and warm against the back of the Sniper's neck.

It would have been awkward, if the Spy had gotten an erection during the course of things, but the Sniper could have dealt with that. He wasn't so sure he could deal with having one of his own. After all, if the Spy was queer, that didn't have to change what the Sniper felt about himself.

He groaned again, back arching under the Spy's touch, half praying the Spy wouldn't notice his problem, half hoping he might, half hoping that if he shifted his hips back just a bit, the Spy would be just as affected.

"Better?" The Spy asked, his voice tight.

"You tell me," The Sniper breathed, hips rocking back against the Spy's, relieved when the Spy thrust forward just slightly.

"Do you...?"

"Yeah." He pushed himself back up, turning around to wrap his arms around the other man, to pull him close and grind against him through a long kiss. "Feel loads better, by the way."

"Mm, and you'll spend all tomorrow crouched over that rifle making it worse again."

"You could give me another one of them backrubs tomorrow." He wheedled.

The Spy cupped his cheek, nuzzling his jaw a moment before stealing another kiss. "I could teach you how. Trade massages."

"Sure. Sure, like that." The Sniper moaned, as the Spy sank down to his knees, wiping the last excess lotion residue onto the Sniper's undershirt so that he could unzip his trousers. "Oh, you're good to me, aren't you?"

Spy grinned, undoing his own as well. "I'd like to be."

The Sniper just nodded, one hand gentle on the back of the Spy's head. He watched as the Spy stroked himself to full hardness, in between teasing licks to the Sniper's cock.

He was as slow and as thorough in the blowjob as he'd been in the massage, moaning around the Sniper's length, breathing deep through his nose. Eventually, he let himself alone, both hands working at the Sniper's thighs, sliding up to grip his hips.

Once he had finished swallowing the Sniper's release, he braced himself on the small fold-down table, getting to his feet. The Sniper wiped at his lower lip with one thumb, flashing a dizzy grin and switching places.

"I'm not... I haven't had practice, at this." He admitted, nuzzling at the Spy's belly.

"I won't take much." Spy promised, stroking the Sniper's cheek. "Just use your hands..."

The Sniper did, pushing the Spy's shirt and trousers both aside to be able to suck a mark onto his hip.

"Your teeth," Spy hissed.

Sniper nipped at him, gave him a couple of firm strokes to finish him off.

They wound up on the floor, leaning against the Sniper's bench, sharing a cigarette.

"That happen every time you give a massage?" The Sniper asked.

"Only when I'm lucky." Spy shrugged, grinning.