1 . Name: Sheepy the Wise @ 2011-04-05 15:15

hi i'm back
i had this written back in december but my friends still really like it so i edited it a tad bit and decided to post it
beta'd by someone who lurks here

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One day, after a rather rough and rigorous time spent fighting the opposing team, Spy wanted nothing more than to retire to his room and relax until someone—normally Soldier—came screaming down the hall saying dinner was served. Of course, he’d have earmuffs on to at least muffle and dull a majority of the sound, since Scout was always screaming his head off, Pyro was crying because Scout was screaming his head off, Sniper was yelling at Scout for making Pyro cry because he was screaming his head off, and Engineer would sometimes be banging on his contraptions louder than other times. It didn’t really help that Spy’s room was above the stout Texan’s workshop. Sometimes the man would work all night. Sometimes Spy would be dominating everyone on the opposing team due to irritation.

There was also Soldier, who, surprisingly enough, was only obnoxiously loud when there were more than one or two people around him, but ofttimes one could hear him down the hall telling passersby of his next great plan, one that would expose the opposing team’s Demoman of being an alien from hell or the Medic is secretly planning on resurrecting Hitler and Satan at once. Spy would only listen in when it was just so obtuse and surreal that he couldn’t contain his nasally laughter. Scout would hear this and pick on him, but Spy would deal with the rodent proper whenever it occurred. The Russian was probably the loudest besides the obnoxious trio mentioned prior, always plodding through the base, begging for Medic to give him attention like a small child, when Spy was probably the only one to notice, besides Sniper, that Medic detested Heavy for, as Soldier would say, “whatever Nazi reasons he had pent up.” Spy just saw it as Heavy was annoying and Medic had about as short a fuse as he did.

Spy did not have the peace and quiet he deserved. Yes, they all deserved to have some silence to let their poor ears rest from having rockets and bombs explode after firearms would burst and crack the airwaves, but did any of them appreciate their hearing like Spy did? It was probably because he wasn’t brainless ditchwater like most of the team was. Perhaps he alone saw the importance of needing to hear on the battlefield, due to his profession and all, and Spy sometimes was both thankful and jealous the Pyro couldn’t hear too well through his mask, but the point still stands. Hell, sometimes Scout would go to the bridge and whoop and holler with the other little brat just for fun! The volume of two Scouts playing with each other was not anyone on either team needed for their poor, ringing ears!

Sniper, at times, would come down to Spy’s room and converse with him while drinking whatever alcoholic amber the man would bring with him. Sniper was a rather lively sort of fellow, and while Spy generally did not like socializing with people he rather detested—and that was quite a few people he detested—he knew that it was good for him to not be the most antisocial person on the planet. Plus, Sniper’s accent could be a bit amusing at times, albeit very, very hard to understand. That, and he said some pretty damn funny things. He’d also yell from their window at the Scouts, calling them things Spy had never heard in his life, to get them to pipe down, but today, when they were being especially loud, Sniper was on the phone with his parents. That boy needed to grow up.

Well, he obviously wasn’t going to get this chapter done by dinner, so he may as well find some entertainment watching whatever the two Boston boys were doing outside. He opened up his window and rested his elbow on the sill—all the while cloaked, they didn’t need to know he was there—and watched as they spout curses left and right and played little childish games.

“Dude, no, why the fuck do you get to be Tarzan? It was my stupid idea!”

“Fuck you, bitch, that’s why! Plus, I’m way more limber and shit than you is! I can swing from the roof of the bridge and you can’t!”

“Dude, we played on the same fuckin’ team, you wasn’t athletic as shit!”

“Fuck you, bitch!” There came the tackle.

That explains their relationship. They played baseball together? But they acted like such enemies on the field, didn’t it bother them that they had to shoot and slaughter each other every day? One of the qualities of a spy was to backstab your friends and peers, so of course he had no qualms, but—these two were such young men, were they so warped that they found that sort of thing to be enjoyable? Or did they secretly hate each other, despite having once been allies? No, that theory was false, otherwise why would they be making out—

Wait, what?! Spy leaned out the window a bit to confirm that it wasn’t just the position of their heads during their little scrap playing a trick on his eyes, these two boys had really begun roughing each other up and were now sharing a long kiss, passionate, too! Oh, wow. Spy had felt like a dirty man for certain reasons at particular intervals of his life, but he could stop himself before the feeling would worsen—normally— and he was not about to feel like a pedophile by watching.

But—no one knew he was watching.

So maybe—

Maybe—maybe he could get away with it?

But—but still, it was wrong, and Spy had a set of morals. Jumbled and unfitting for his perceived character, but morals nonetheless. Besides, he wasn’t ever attracted to men severely younger or older than him, and he never would be—but these boys were in pique physical prime for their age. You‘d have to be blind or very, very homophobic to deny their perfect legs and build, a feature in women Spy enjoyed thoroughly. But, still! The boys had just turned 18!—he thought. Maybe they were 19? Well, he knew they were at least 18, so if he were questioned—no one would see him, though—he could say he thought they were—20?

Yeah, 20 sounds like a lovely number.

So long as he wasn’t moving for more than ten minutes, Spy’s cloak and dagger would keep him perfectly hidden. He’d jumped from further heights and lived, and the two dolts would be too dumb and distracted to hear his grunt if he fell from scaling the wall, so Spy took the risk and climbed down from his window. For a man of his age, he was quite agile, so it wasn’t too hard and he didn’t slip once. When he reached the ground, he was glad to see the two Scouts were still biting and bruising the other’s lips and tangling their fists in their shirts, and he decided to risk it even further by moving over about five or six yards from them, by a crate, and sat to watch the show. If a God existed, he was already going to hell, so it wouldn’t do him any good to refuse such a show, anyway.

They were panting loudly while their tongue entwined, and their lips were bright, red, full, and wet. The bottom one, the BLU one, had an obvious erection from where Spy was sitting, and he assumed the RED Scout also had one, from how aggressive he was being. Spy had a little worry that the RED Scout would hurt the bottom one, but he would groan erotically whenever the boy on top would by his lip hard enough it looked ready to bleed. After a few moments of rough smooching, they seemed to be enraged as they violently ripped their shirts from the other’s body and left bruising imprints from their hands on the other’s skin. Then they—oh, good heavens, have these boys never been taught delicacy?

Well.

These two boys weren’t the brightest bulbs in the box.

So maybe—

“Ahem.”

The two boys perked up at Spy’s voice and—wow, really? They didn’t bother hiding their shame, they just kept on trucking?

“Do you two know how much noise you are making?” Spy had uncloaked before he started speaking, so he was a visible figure before them. “If it isn’t the brutal kissing, it’s the rough groans. Really, you two should be more private.”

“What’s it to you, stretch?” Red bit the bottom one’s neck and had him arch and moan. It was lovely.

“Well, for one, this isn’t Assyria. So don’t have sex in public.”

“The fuck is ass-er-rrhea? That some new kind of ass disease or something?”

“He’d know because he fucks with Sniper all the time so he probably got all those hairy pissy diseases.”

“Du—ude!” They high-fived. Do they not know anything about intimacy?

“How long have you two been together?”

“We ain’t together, bro, we just like to fool around.” The other nodded at this.

Of course this displeased Spy, and it showed in his face. Not everyone was the same, of course, but still. “Regardless of your feelings for one another, you should both know the proper ways of going about intimacy.”

“Oh? The fuck you know about inti—oof!” He was nudged by the other, who added, “Dude, look, he’s a fuckin’ French dude with a suit who’s like a spy and shit! He’s probably fucked every chick in the world! Are you retarded?! Course he knows about intimacy, you big dope!”

Their exchanges always humored Spy, despite how annoying they tended to be. This one gave him a little chuckle, and he appreciated the one’s compliments. They both looked at him when he chuckled, ready to start a fight with one another, but directed their attention to who Spy thought they hoped would be their teacher, as that was his intent. “Yes, well, it pains me to see two inexperienced mugs such as yourselves engage in an act I’m so fluent in to the point where I feel I must interrupt it and correct it myself.”

“Dude, the fuck, we been doing fine since we been doing this, you anus hole!”

“Shut up, bitch, you’re a fuckin’ liar, it takes you forever to find my stupid hole with your dick, and it always fuckin’ slips out, the fuck you know about having sex?”

“Oh, what was that?! You wanna fight, bro?!”

“Boys, boys, settle down.” He held both of their shoulders and directed them towards his room. If anyone asked, he’d say he was giving them a lecture. Which was true, in a way. When they got to his room, he shoved them both onto his bed as he sat back in a chair, made himself comfortable, and told them to go about how they normally did. He told them things like, “Kiss softer, don’t bruise his lips, his skin is delicate and soft, so don’t bruise it.” He knew people liked having rough sex, but they didn’t need to be more injured than they already were during battle. Plus, these two were so sloppy, anyway, and he wanted a nice show, and violent sex was not one thing he liked. He also knew, from experience, that men their age should enjoy softer touches more than rougher ones.

“Stroke his ribs lightly, light, fluttering touches, as they can bruise easily.”

“Dude, come on! I don’t know what to do, why don’t you show me?!”

Spy took his hand and flexed it, running his fingertips lightly against the other Scout’s ribs, earning a shudder. “When he makes sounds like that, that means he likes it. When you kiss his body, you can bite him if you desire, but do so lightly. If you leave any marks, do so around his belly, as it is softer—and thus more sensitive—and no one is likely to see it.”

He even gave them tips on proper hand jobs and blow jobs, and when they were hot and ready for actual intercourse, he willingly prepared them both. He was completely dressed, sans gloves, and with Blue in his lap, hot, sweaty, and flushed. Blue’s legs were spread with Spy’s hand between them, lubricated and working him inside to prepare him for Red’s dick, which he had just rolled a condom onto. Blue was moaning and whining gorgeously from the dexterous penetration, and he gripped the sheets by Spy’s hips and occasionally bit his neck. Spy didn’t mind, and before he was ready to slip Red into the boy in his lap, he rolled up his mask to his jaw. He then kept one hand keeping Blue open—his hole would twitch as he breathed—and he took his other hand to guide Red’s tip to the opening.

“Okay, when you slide in, slide in slowly and carefully. You do not want to hurt him, as he is most delicate here.”

Having two young, fit boys fucking in his lap was one of the greatest experiences of Spy’s life. Blue had an amazing voice when he would whine in ecstasy, and Red liked commenting on how tight he was. The thrusting reciprocated in Spy’s own groin, yet he wouldn’t grind himself into Blue’s backside, knowing he could rub one off later. He did hold Blue’s hips in place during the thrusting, though, and would casually stroke where the hole stretched over the burning piston impaling him. After a few moments since the thrusting got more vigorous, Spy told Red to angle himself just a bit. Blue moaned right in his ear, praising God, and Spy tilted his face to kiss him. He didn’t pull away, and Red didn’t get mad. Blue rested his head in the crook of Spy’s neck and kissed, licked, and bit it while occasionally glancing down to watch Red fuck him.

Oh, god, their moans. They were so wonderful and pleasing to his ears, they were so much more pleasing than their shouts and cries during and after battle. Why did they not do this more often?

“Oh my fuckin—dude, Spy, thank you so much, man,” Red thanked him as he increased his speed. “You like it, too, baby?” He started jerking off Blue, which Spy didn’t ask him to do. He must have known at least that much, to be kind to your lover by helping them get off the same time you do. He must have been close, and it hadn’t been long, too.

“Oh, fuck yeah, man, this is so fuckin’ great—ah!” That didn’t take much. One thin strand of semen whipped from his dick as he yanked Red down to kiss him, who kept jerking his hand and milking the boy he was inside of. When their kiss separated, Red was about to pull out to finish, but Spy told him to stay inside. Blue grinned at the man whose lap he was in, and Red finished inside of him.

After their signs of appreciation in fighting over who got to blow Spy first, the two boys were spooning each other on Spy’s bed. He didn’t mind, he would just sit in his chair and read. Blue was a little splattered with his own semen, but it wouldn’t make too big of a mess on his bed. The two were finally quiet, though, and that was one thing Spy was grateful for.

But some noise now and then couldn’t hurt his ears too much, could it?