Every repost is a repost repost. By Thinking Cap.

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Thanks again to Impish for being the awesome beta that she is. Concrit is always welcome, and I hope you like it!
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“You ready?” Heavy called out from the bathroom, adjusting his suit jacket. Pyro looked up from his place on the hotel bed, starched blankets bunched up around his legs. His suit jacket was still lying next to him and his tie was draped around his shoulders, a straight black line against his unbuttoned white shirt. He had never felt comfortable being confined; the asbestos suit he had been assigned to wear during the war was far too big for him and there was no way to get a replacement. So he had gotten used to being able to move freely without feeling fabric tugging against him.

Heavy stepped out of the bathroom, pulling down on the front of his jacket and smoothing his tie against his chest. Pyro stared at him blankly, suppressing the shock he felt at seeing the Russian so sharp, so…sophisticated. This was the same man who could wipe out an entire battlefield with a savage look plastered across his face. The same man who would drop into a grimy sewer without a second thought. Pyro never thought that he would get the chance to see him clean and without the wild grin he would get after a particularly good slaughter.

“Vat is zis? You not ready.” Heavy frowned, kicking his shoes from their place by the wall so that he could sit down and put them on. Pyro looked down at himself, reluctant to button his shirt up and feel the hard crease of a collar against his throat. But he did anyway, knowing that Heavy had gone through a lot of trouble to put this reunion together. He had even gotten what was left of the BLU team to agree to meet up with them at a restaurant downtown, even though they had been enemies during the war.

Heavy worked his feet against the confines of his shoes, stretching the leather and gauging how much his feet would be hurting by the end of the night. He had spent all day looking for the perfect pair—a true stickler for making the right impression. He wanted to remind both teams that they were a part of society now, not a bunch of war-crazed lunatics running around in the city. He looked over at Pyro, sighing in frustration when he saw that the pale man had barely started on his shirt.

“Pyro—vhy you take so long?” Pyro just stared at him, his fingers resting on the next button on his shirt. Heavy pushed against his knees to get to his feet, not wanting to put any more effort into making the smaller man dress faster. It was a miracle Pyro even had his pants on. He waved Pyro’s hands away and took the buttons himself, working the rest of the small pieces into place faster than it took Pyro to do one.

“See? Not so difficult.” He tugged on Pyro’s tie. “Put zis on, then we go.” He walked to the small table next to the door and rustled through the papers lying there, looking for his keys. Pyro examined his tie, working it around in his hand and wondering how Heavy had managed to get his to look so good. Panic rose in his chest as he realized that he had no idea how to put it on. Heavy found the keys and twirled them around on his finger, deftly maneuvering the bits of metal around his large fingers.

“Heavy…?” Pyro’s voice was too weak to be heard—he still hadn’t gotten used to people actually being able to understand him. He cleared his throat. “Heavy?” The Russian looked over, getting impatient. He had wanted to get to the restaurant at least a half-hour early to make sure everything was set up right. That meant they needed to leave within the next twenty minutes.

“I don’t know how to put this on.” Pyro held up the tie, looking at it with disdain, “I was drafted before anyone could teach me.” Heavy looked confused for a moment before walking over, motioning with his hands for Pyro to turn around. How could any man not know how to tie a tie?

“Vhy did you not tell me sooner?” Pyro slid off the bed, turning so that his back was towards Heavy. “Zis vill be faster.” His large hands came around Pyro’s chest, engulfing him completely. Heavy took a hold of Pyro’s tie and adjusted it as if he were doing his own, pushing Pyro’s back into him in the process so that he could see better. Pyro tensed up, having never been so close to someone so big before. It was intimidating.

But the heat burning through Heavy like a furnace was undeniable, and Pyro backed up against it, trying to feel as hot as he used to under his old suit. Months of being so close to fire and sweating under that scratchy suit were hard to forget, and after awhile he had started to like it. Then the army confiscated his equipment when the war was over and left him practically naked on the streets. He would have frozen if Heavy hadn’t found him first.

Heavy pulled the knot closer to Pyro's neck, hoping that he had gotten the lengths right. But a good inch of the thinner part of the tie stretched out into view. He cursed and pulled the tie apart, trying again. Pyro sidled up even closer to Heavy, amazed at how familiar his heat was—the only other time he had felt this was when he was behind his flame thrower. Temporarily forgetting the concept of personal space, Pyro grabbed onto Heavy’s hands, stopping his movement. He stretched his neck to look up at the surprised Russian, relying on his instincts to tell him what to do next. He turned inside of Heavy's arms and ran a finger along the underside of Heavy's chin, his skin hot and tantalizing. Getting up on his tip-toes, Pyro pressed his lips against Heavy's freshly shaved chin. His lips lit on fire.

Heavy stopped moving, his mind too shocked to comprehend anything else. Pyro took the opportunity, taking initiative for the first time since the war, and wrapped his thin arms around the beast of a man. He pressed his face into Heavy’s chest as long as he could before Heavy’s brain clicked into action. He pushed Pyro onto the bed, and away from him, taking a few seconds to think things over. They both knew it was up to him what happened next.

He looked over at the clock—they had fifteen minutes before they absolutely had to leave. His eyes wandered back to Pyro who was sitting on the bed with a scared look splattered across his face. He shut his eyes, not sure if he should go with his instincts, or with what was logical. His eyes followed the outline of Pyro’s body, past the contours of his stomach to the apex of his two lean thighs. Pyro flinched when Heavy pulled off his jacket, fear rising like bile in his belly as the Russian rolled up both of his sleeves.

He moved further onto the bed when Heavy bent in towards him, afraid that he had finally crossed the line. But Heavy just wrapped his hands around Pyro’s chest, moving him until he was on his hands and knees. Pyro’s arms were shaking and he kept his eyes shut, not sure what to expect next. The bed creaked towards the floor when Heavy set his knee in between Pyro’s legs and he wrapped a gentle arm around the smaller man beneath him, quieting any fears that Pyro still had.

Heavy pulled up, motioning for Pyro to lean back against his chest while staying on his knees. Pyro obliged immediately, resting against the fire he had only briefly touched before. Heavy kissed the side of his neck, going slowly at first but speeding up as he realized that they didn’t have much time. He reached down with one hand, leaving the other splayed out over Pyro’s heart, and felt the inside of Pyro’s thigh.

Thick muscles rippled beneath his touch and Pyro felt an inferno start to build inside of him, his breath catching on the feeling. Heavy didn’t waste any time, wrapping his hand around Pyro’s penis through his pants, rubbing against the fabric as he felt the flesh come to life beneath him. Pyro bit his lip, his face flush with excitement. He grasped the hand over his heart and tried to hang on as the flames rose inside of him.

Heavy unbuckled Pyro’s pants, not wanting to ruin a perfectly good suit right before they were about to go out, and pulled his penis out. Pyro jerked against the cold air, not liking how it felt against his skin. Heavy laughed at Pyro’s convulsion and wrapped his hand back around the hard piece of flesh to block out the cold, the intimate contact sending rockets of pleasure through Pyro’s body. The sudden heat filled him to the core, making his heart beat faster.

Heavy kissed along the back of Pyro’s neck and head, the short hair tickling his face. Pyro writhed inside of Heavy's grip, turned his head towards him and opened his mouth to say something. Heavy licked Pyro’s bottom lip before he could, taking him completely and sliding his tongue against Pyro’s. Flames licked up around the contact, making Pyro shudder and deepen the kiss until he had to break away for air.

“Oh—Heavy…ng” Pyro clenched his teeth, “I’m going to—ah…” He kept his mouth shut, the fire overwhelming him, taking away any ability to speak coherently. His irregular breathing was the only way Heavy knew he was on the edge. Heavy rubbed his palm against Pyro’s sensitive nipple, adding yet another sensation for him to handle. But it was too much—the friction, the heat, the wet kisses.

Pyro arched his back against Heavy, the blaze running from the top of his head into Heavy’s hand. His fingernails dug small crescents into the side of Heavy’s arm as he rode the climax out, feeling like Heavy had lit a thousand matches inside of him. His voice caught in his throat until the climax started to subside, a low content moan the only sound that came out of him as he relaxed into Heavy’s hold.

Heavy pumped his hands a few times before letting go, wiping his hand off on the blanket beside them. He quickly checked Pyro’s pants for any hint of a mess, but he was clean. Glancing at the clock, Heavy whispered "no time left, we have to go". Pyro groaned and rolled his head against Heavy's chest contentedly, his fingers running trails on Heavy's skin in the afterglow. Heavy chuckled and tucked Pyro back inside of his pants, pulling the zipper up before picking his exhausted form from the bed and setting him on his feet.

“Get your shoes on, I’ll do your tie in ze cab.” He made sure Pyro was steady before putting his jacket back on, watching the smaller man mindlessly slip his feet into some loafers. Heavy opened his mouth to suggest that he put on another pair, but he stopped himself; it would be a shame to ruin Pyro’s good mood. Pyro was still buzzing while they were in the cab, the smoldering embers still in his chest were enough to keep the inferno fresh in his memory.

He hardly noticed when Heavy slipped his tie over his head and tightened it into place. Hardly noticed when they pulled up in front of the restaurant to see the manager throwing Soldier out, Demo in the background, downing a bottle of Scotch like always. Pyro brought the scene into focus, grinning dreamily. He felt like he was finally home.