The Engineer relaxed back into the Sniper's arms, savouring the bliss of the other man's hard flesh deep inside him. Why hadn't he been doing this for years? He had wasted his life in pointless fighting- but this was no time for regrets. As he leaned forward to take the Heavy's generous cock in his mouth, this was a time for joy.

Though he had one hand on the Heavy's back, the Medic was sitting next to the Scout, cradling the Demoman across their laps. In umlauts and Southie squawk, they told the Scottish Cyclops how wonderful he was. Rubber gloves and pale, knuckly hands caressed every inch of his soft, dark skin. He looked up at them, lone eye shining, and told them how much he loved them both.

While his feet tangled with the Scout's, playing footsie and holding toes, the Soldier's hands nd tongue were all over the Pyro. He had licked the chemsuit to a slippery sheen, and was thrusting into any fold he could find as the firestarter moaned beneath him. The moans grew louder as the Sniper gently reached down to unscrew the filters on the Pyro's gas mask.

"... I'd say this was a god-damned productive day," Spyro murmured to himself as he took off his camera beard. Easing his own mask up, he dropped a tab of Ecstasy that he'd saved for himself.

---------------------------------------
[Author's Note: Sorry, Owl, I borrowed Spyro without permission again. I'll put him right back where I got him, though.]