1 . Name: Anonymous @ 2009-06-01 10:52

Every repost is a repost repost.

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Sniper leaned back in his chair, feet up on the table, enjoying his lunchtime beer. He watched impassively as Demo and Heavy had a blue about something, as far as he could tell it was about what kind of lunchmeat was better; baloney or haggis. He’d never heard of anyone putting haggis on a sandwich anyway, but when they got really angry and started to slip in and out of English Sniper had about as much luck understanding either of them as he did Pyro’s mumblings.
Spy appeared in the mess room doorway, giving the other occupants of the room a cursory glance but dragging his eyes slowly over Sniper’s body. He was a queer one, Sniper thought to himself, frowning.
The hairs on the back of his neck stood up as Spy slinked past him, leaving a faint trail of nicotine in the air. The guy was too quiet, he barely made a sound when he walked. Sniper watched his elegant, almost cat-like movements, it was hard to look away, like a shark had just entered the room.
With his severely limited peripheral vision, Demo didn’t notice Spy attempting to slip by unnoticed, and as he gesticulated wildly he smacked his whiskey bottle squarely into Spy’s face. Spy swore but Sniper couldn’t understand most of what he said either.
Sniper chuckled to himself, but Spy gave him such a pointed look Sniper felt a small shiver down his spine. Clutching his bloody nose Spy stalked out of the room to find Medic.
Suddenly feeling restless, Sniper swilled the rest of his beer before trudging up the stairs to his small room by the roof.
He sat in his chair facing the open window, and picked up his gun. There was only so many times he could polish his scope before boredom set in, so he placed the rifle next to his kukri, leaning against the far wall.
Even now, the hair on the back of his neck and arms was still standing up, and he couldn’t shake that odd feeling he got when Spy had looked at him like that. Sniper wasn’t used to feeling so rattled. Scratching is arms absently, he tried to push it from his mind.
He gazed out the window at the dry land below, and felt a twinge of homesickness. It was a warm, windless day and the few clouds were high and far.
The rich red dirt, the powder blue sky, the warm sun on his face and the gentle caress of the tiniest breeze made everything seem vivid and oversaturated.
With a sigh he undid the fly of his pants, hoping to work off a little of the uncomfortable tension and pass the time. The feeling that something wasn’t right grew stronger, but he passed it off as pre-mission nerves. Everyone was on edge so close to an assignment, and this was as good a way as any to find some relief, given the present circumstances.
It had been such a long time since he’d even seen a sheila he found it difficult to find the inspiration to get fully hard.
Maybe he should have asked to borrow some of Soldier’s girly magazines first, but that would have meant spending more time downstairs, and besides, the guy had a few kangaroos loose in his top paddock.
Sniper wondered what the announcer looked like, but thinking about a disembodied voice wasn’t much help. Besides, he was lucky not to have been fired after the team lost the last match.
‘Why don’t you go get the bloody intelligence your bloody self then?’ he’d shouted at one of the loudspeakers when it berated them yet again for their failure.
She probably had a face like a horse anyway.
He pumped his hand back and forth, and gritted his teeth, trying not to think of anything in particular. His mind kept wandering over the faces of his team mates, the only people he’d seen in months, apart from the enemy, and he wasn’t about to be getting friendly with any of those bastards. Besides, he wasn’t no bloody fag.
There was a small movement in the air behind him, and Sniper froze, suddenly hyper alert, body tensing up all over before his mind could catch up with the presence of danger.
He heard the faintest whisper of cloth and felt a familiar pricking sensation against his spine, barely there. Sniper felt like he’d been dumped in a bucket of ice water. Shit.
Sniper’s hands fell to his sides, he didn't want to die with his cock in hand. Great. Just great. Without moving his head he swivelled his eyes towards the kukri, but it was an impossible three metres away.
'Don't move' the voice behind him commanded, and he felt the point drag upwards across his clothing.
The blade slid luxuriantly across Sniper’s neck, coming to rest on his throat just under his Adam’s apple. The metal was surprisingly warm, hot even. He shifted his weight and Spy clucked admonishingly, the blade pressing in a little deeper. Just enough to draw a single bead of blood that joined the surrounding sweat to slip down Sniper’s neck. Like a paper-cut, barely there at all, the threat of what might be coming ached more than the faint sting of the blade.
Sniper wanted to swallow but was afraid the knife would cut in further, throat suddenly unbearably dry.
'Put your hands on ze window sill' Spy purred.
Sniper hesitated, but did what he was told, clenching his jaw.
Spy lifted his free hand to elegantly pull off the glove with his teeth. Spy tilted his head and Sniper could feel warm breath against his skin, and shuddered involuntarily as Spy ran the tip of his tongue across Sniper’s jaw line. The pervert, he was enjoying this.
Spy traced his tongue over Sniper’s ear, and closed his lips around the lobe. Sniper’s eyes widened, this was going well beyond savouring the kill.
Sniper’s skin tingled coolly along the wet trail Spy had left behind, and he felt all his blood rushing to the surface.
Sniper was forced to transfer more of his weight onto the palms of his hands as Spy pushed against him, and he could feel Spy’s erection pressing through his pants as he rubbed it against Sniper’s buttocks. Sniper’s breath heaved in and out of his chest, and he felt nauseous.
He tried to mumble 'just get on with it already' without moving his throat.
‘But you are normally so patient, mon ami.’ Sniper could smell his breath, fine tobacco and something else, alcohol? Sniper’s head swam with the other man’s scent, smoke and cologne and a hint of coppery sweet death. The blade moved down to the base of his neck, allowing a little more freedom, but still one errant twitch away from losing everything.
Spy grazed his teeth along stubble and sun darkened skin, and Sniper gave a small involuntary moan, blushing hard and hanging his head, ashamed at the way his body was reacting, still feeling a cold pit of fear in his stomach.
Spy’s now bare hand worked its way up underneath the Australian’s shirt, and he grunted, not trusting himself to speak without his voice cracking.
Spy curled his fingers through light chest hair and then raked his clipped nails across bare skin. Sniper hissed his breath through his teeth as Spy rubbed his nipples to attention. Sniper failed to hold back a strangled whimper.
‘Wait! Stop….ugh…you bastard’ Sniper snarled hotly as Spy’s hand suddenly dipped down to massage his balls. Sniper struggled not to collapse forward, unable to hold back his moaning any longer.
Spy slipped his hand around Sniper’s now fully hard shaft, tracing his fingers along the underside and gently rubbing the tip with his thumb. Sniper tried to curse but all he managed was a desperate growl.
Spy began to expertly pump his fist unbearably slowly along Sniper’s length, grinding his own pelvis into Sniper’s hip.
Spy licked his lips, enjoying watching the surrender painted on the other man’s face, head hung low and eyes squeezed shut.
Increasing the pace of his strokes, Sniper bucked his hips into Spy’s hand involuntarily, only just keeping himself upright as his knees threatened to buckle. He was filled with shame and a guilty pleasure he could barely allow himself to admit, trying to lose himself in the moment. He couldn’t deny that it was Spy’s hint of malice, scent, expert hands and graceful movements that were turning him on so much. He was barely aware of the desperate noises that were escaping from him. The rational part of his mind, steadily losing ground, tried feebly to justify what was happening. He couldn’t be blamed for enjoying it so much, he hadn’t been touched in so long, the reaction was purely mechanical.
His conscious thoughts jumbled into a whirl of sickening pain and fear and a lust he’d felt for a long time but was unwilling to allow to surface. Sniper whimpered as Spy jerked harder, slightly painfully, and increased the pace to bring him crashing over the edge.
Spy bit down suddenly on the junction between Sniper’s neck and shoulder blade.
Sniper cried out as he shot hot semen across the wall in front of him, his whole body shuddering violently.
Stooping forward weakly, Sniper leaned forward, blankly accepting what was about to come next. He waited for the cold numbness to take him as his lifeblood soaked down the front of his shirt.
When nothing happened he straightened stiffly.
'Oi! Bloody hell…' the sharp presence at his neck had disappeared and he spun around angrily. The room was empty.
But the smell of expensive cigarettes and French cologne stuck to his skin, and he touched his throat absently. Had that really happened, or had his sex starved brain just imagined it all? Sniper touched his neck, checking for damage.