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1 .

>>497
(I was secretly hoping someone would ask for this just to give me the excuse)

The jeering voice of the Announcer echoed, hollow and tinny and faraway but ever-present. A loss. The Sniper had let himself be tied up with fighting the Spy just long enough for the other man's team to win, and now he stood there, unarmed, staring down the angry, piss-drenched spook.

"On your knees." The Spy ordered, voice firm and even.

A clean execution was better than the Sniper had expected. He placed his hands behind his head and waited. The Spy just holstered his Ambassador.

"What--"

"Shh." A gloved finger touched the Sniper's lower lip, briefly.

He wanted to be angry-- wanted at least to not be aroused at the gesture, but it was a near thing. There was a sense of control that the Spy exuded now, that he wasn't used to. He didn't doubt it existed, on the field, only that when it was there, he didn't see the man coming. It was something the Spy lost when he was caught, and now that he had perfect control of the situation, he had it back. Dangerous, but the Sniper liked it. The Sniper had always preferred dangerous things...

He started to protest again anyway, when the Spy unzipped his fly.

"Only fair." The man chuckled, and he didn't give it a tug-- didn't try to work himself hard, when he pulled his cock out, just held it lightly in his hand, aimed at the Sniper, no move to force it on him.

The Spy groaned softly, as he relaxed, let loose a hot, steady stream of piss that hit the Sniper just at the dip of his throat, to trickle down his chest.

The Sniper couldn't complain-- it was fair, in its own way. At least as fair as using the opportunity to kill. He'd started them down that road, picking up Jarate in the first place, and anyway, it was only urine. Almost clear, almost odorless, most certainly sterile, but warm, wetting its way through the front of his shirt.

"I have planned this," The Spy said, his hand closing around his cock just a little more firmly, the stream cutting off. "Since not long after you first started throwing those jars at me. You filthy, filthy bushman... And how do you like being on the receiving end?"

"I like it fine." He admitted, meeting the Spy's gaze with an almost defiant honesty, a heat that returned some of the balance of power to him, even on his knees. He opened his vest a little wider, to rub at his chest through the now-wet shirt. His other hand dropped down to his crotch, rubbing over it until a bulge stood out.

"Move your hand." The Spy ordered, stepping closer, angling his cock down.

The Sniper obeyed, growing harder as the Spy managed to go again-- not as much, and not as strong, but just as rewarding, the way it wet right through his pants, the way anyone who saw him that way would think he'd pissed himself.

"Suck me?" It wasn't an order any more-- another shift in power, perhaps, or just the way the Spy's invulnerability had run out, the brief revenge period over.

The Sniper leaned forward, grabbed at the Spy's thighs and sucked at the soft organ, his tongue pushing back at the foreskin, playing with it, delighting in the musky taste of him. The Spy's hands cradled his head, the Spy's hips rocked forward, and the Sniper let him, let him go as rough as he liked. It still erred on the side of polite, if not exactly gentle, control passing back and forth between them as the Spy grew harder, groaned and gasped and fucked the Sniper's mouth.

The Sniper opened his own fly, freeing his erection, sliding a hand lazily up and down his own length while he sucked the Spy off, swallowing when the Spy came with a soft cry.

"You get off on this?" He grinned up at the other man.

"Yes." The Spy hissed. "Are you happy? I am a filthy degenerate. I love it."

"Don't act like you love it."

"Am I supposed to? Every time, I think about forcing you to your knees and returning the favor, fucking you... Distracting thoughts to have, at work."

"Well, now I'm never gonna stop." He chuckled, grip loosening. "Help me take care of this?"

"Stand up." The Spy nodded. He jerked the Sniper off, quickly and efficiently, into a handkerchief-- brought that handkerchief up under his nose and took a deep breath, the mingling of the Sniper's sweat and release, and his own urine. "Filthy."

"And flexible." The Sniper promised. "If you ever want to make this a regular sort of thing. Be your dirty little thing, if you'll be mine."

Another nod, as he tucked the handkerchief into his inside pocket. "Save it for after work, and you may have me any way you like-- any way. I will refuse you absolutely nothing. Hit me with the jar again and I will take control. Think about it. A little impulse control and you will be rewarded, and if you give me trouble, then I will be."

"Yeah?" The Sniper grinned. "Hm... might just drag out the Razorback and see if you really mean it. We'll see."

"I suppose we will." The Spy grinned, reaching up to wipe at the Sniper's lower lip one last time-- this time, to push a drop of come into his mouth before retreating. "Au revoir, mon ange crasseux."

"Tomorrow." The Sniper tipped his hat to the retreating spook, before zipping himself back up and heading for the shower. Getting a taste of his own medicine had never been quite so sweet...