Every repost is a repost repost. By Kirensk.

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Try your hand at scoping for one bloody second and the bastard has you; he's learning your tricks and getting better at his job. The Sniper had fired not once but twice into the empty hallway, hoping to catch the masked man hiding under his damn "invisibility cloak" (how the hell did that thing work, anyway?) as he snuck into the boarded hideout, his footsteps light but still managing to cause a creak or two which had sparked Sniper's original wariness.

And now he had a blade at his throat and a surprisingly tight grip around his midsection, pressed against a hard place and the Spy's formal-suited body. It was warm. Too bloody warm, the air was stifling enough as it was, and he could feel a drop of sweat roll off his nose. Hear it hit the wooden floor in this tense silence. The wuss must have been burning up. As for the aforementioned "wuss", well, he'd already given himself an inner pat on the back. This was the first time he'd gotten this close to the Aussie, usually shot to hell or stabbed to a similar place... only to be revived, of course. Weird how that worked. In any case, the pain was always what got him, and he'd been seeking revenge against this man in particular.

It wasn't completely clear why. A natural, innate hatred of each other. Spy disliked most everyone, of course, but the opposing Sniper? The mere sight of a scope reflecting light in the sun boosted his predator drive a thousandfold. Perhaps it was because the Sniper seemed like such an easy target to take down, the confident assassin who merely camped out and picked off enemies from an unseen roost, but when one actually entered his domain... well, Sniper was dangerous even up close. And cautious. That pissed him off.

Meanwhile, Sniper's loathing of the Spy had little more to it than the fact that the guy seemed like a sneaky little piker.

In any case, his mortal enemy had him now, and yet he wasn't killing him. Sniper had been bracing himself for the feel of a small blade tearing across his neck - would've already disemboweled the ski-masked wanker in the gut if his kukri hadn't been kicked out into the hallway - and yet it wasn't coming. Said blade was merely boring into his neck at a dangerous pressure. The two stood motionless for a minute or so, Spy's cigarette so close that Sniper could hear the ash burning, Sniper's neck so close to the blade that Spy could feel his pulse.

"Bloody get on with it, then," Sniper growled, impatient. Of course it would be like the crooked fucker to make his death a slow, torturous one. Spy's mouth jerked into a tiny grin. "Wonder why you didn't fight back any more than you did." The smirk widened. He could see the shine of persperation on Sniper's face, could smell his natural scent given off with each steady beat of his vital sign. And it, quite frankly, turned him on.

There was no doubt that the men of each team were deprived of women, and as such, were liable to become aroused far easier at the mere idea of another living body. This was such an instance. Spy felt no need to attempt to hide the beginnings of an erection forming within his pants, pushing at what was once costly fabric. And Sniper could most definitely feel it. He winced in disgust.

The stupid, useless bastard. Getting off on the fact that he had him in a vulnerable spot, that he was basically defenseless at the moment. Sniper was about to say something in an attempt to get rid of the swell poking against his leg, when he felt Spy's gloved hand trailing south.

"Gimme a break, ya mongrel!" he hissed as the hand tightened around his crotch. This was not happening... not only was he being held in a critical position, but now he was being molested. By the bloody wuss. Lovely.

And yet, his captor only began to caress terribly slow, spurring Sniper to fidget in protest. "Clearly outclassed," Spy mumbled in his ear, fairly amused by the reaction. He knew of Sniper's despising of him, knew that that statement was probably making the assassin's blood boil. But he was helpless... so very helpless. Sniper began to squirm under his fingers, and a hardon was becoming apparent. Spy proceeded to stroke along the length, still quite slow, holding back a snort as Sniper took in a sharp breath. This was humiliating for the gunman, no doubt. He quickly slipped his hand past the tight belt and down beneath the waistline.

"... Gghhh." No more cursing at the Spy; now Sniper was twitching a bit. He didn't know about the rest of RED, but he didn't spend his alone time jerking off. Only straight up sex would do for the assassin, not that he really paid attention to it anymore. A man devoted to his craft, most definitely. Spy's touch was fucking divine.

Not that he'd ever admit that in words.

"Well, look at that," Spy purred, his tone condescending. "What a surprise, the dinkum isn't untouchable." Bristling at this remark, Sniper abruptly attempted to shove Spy backward with his body, only to be slammed right back into the wall and have the knife's point digging deeper, likely only a skin layer away from drawing blood. "Now now, play nice." Spy's hand had tightened on the shaft, now causing a both incredibly uncomfortable and oddly arousing sensation, forcing a bit of pre-cum from the tip. The attention was welcoming, apart from the fact that it was coming from not only the enemy, but the enemy Spy. Teeth gritting as the Spy continued his tormentingly slow petting, Sniper glanced over to where his kukri knife lay. Too far to reach with his foot, presently, but... trying to throw Spy off his plan, he began to thrust his hips forward as slightly as he could, determined not to exacerbate the situation any further. Yes, it felt incredibly good, but the Aussie wasn't a mindless, sex-crazed git, now was he? Had to roll with it and find a way out of this situation.

Spy spat out his cigarette and crushed it briskly, blowing the smoke out against the wall. Surprising, Sniper's sudden willingness. Not that he wasn't a bit suspicious. In any case he fed the shaft's natural desire to be touched, satisfied the nerve endings as Sniper began to, ever so slowly, inch along the wall. He was moving toward his knife, of course. Just another foot and he'd be able to reach it with his boot. Spy, meanwhile, had begun to grind himself against Sniper's ass, making soft moans and his touches gentler as he did - it was maddening for Sniper, who was trying his best to ignore the other man. He'd never considered himself gay or even bisexual, but this was making him incredibly horny. If Spy hadn't been who he was, Sniper would probably have tossed him down and been ravaging him by now.

"Bloody 'ell," the Aussie muttered with a grunt. Spy's pace had quickened just a tad, and it was making him harder. He took another inch or so to the left, to where his kukri had been kicked. The masked man didn't seem to notice the fact that they were edging toward it, toward his certain demise if Sniper took just a few more shaky sidesteps. "You do like this," Spy interjected, his voice deepened from his own arousal. It was merely a statement. Yes, Sniper liked it. But he didn't like him. Not in the least.

It was then that Sniper felt the blade leave his throat. The veins being blocked from the pressure began to fill with blood again, tingling at his neck. Spy pocketed his butterfly knife and used the now-free hand to slide up Sniper's shirt, reaching his nipples and rolling them about in his fingers.

The stupid wuss! Sniper thought, and he could have cracked up. Spy had basically just let him free. A smirk broke out on his face, slowly fading as the other man's hands fondled him in his most sensitive areas. Now that Spy had both hot spots in his grip, the pleasure coursing throughout the assassin's body was nearly overpowering. His hands hung limply as he merely let Spy ravish him, feel him in places that hadn't received much touch in... well, a long time. Felt Spy's tongue slide along his neck, skin already so flushed from the heat that he barely felt the warmth, just the slight coolness as the saliva evaporated. And then teeth, biting gently, sucking. Was he... oh, God save the Queen, he was about to cum.

Spy's index and middle finger were now twisting about the most responsive area of his manhood, and his legs nearly gave out. The piker had a talent, no doubt. For a very short moment the assassin felt almost completely relaxed and, dare he say, safe as he leaned back into the other man's chest, allowing desecration of his body. The moment didn't last long, though, and even as his sweet release began to spurt out, Sniper found himself distrustful and hostile once more.

The kukri suddenly glinted in the sun. Sniper eyed it.

And he broke free from Spy's hold, still slightly out of it from the intense orgasm.

Spy didn't make an attempt to seize him again; he stood, feet apart, as if preparing to jump. Sniper fumbled a bit before snatching up his knife and swinging back to face the other man. Did he have anything to say? No. But as he readied himself for a proper slicing, the whistling sound of none other than a rocket pierced his ears.

A split-second later and they were falling, sailing separately toward the ground at a rapid speed. Sniper watched the damage to his hideout as he fell, backwards, tensing himself for the impact of the ground. It wasn't going to kill him, no, just hurt. A lot. He could see smoke billowing in a black cloud from his perch, clearly the work of a Soldier. The Aussie smacked into the dirt and bounced slightly from the collision, before leaping upward and running. Sprinting, more like, toward the nearest enclosed space. Didn't look back.

Spy, on the other hand, rose with the grace of a cat and began to brush his suit off. He grinned toward the Soldier that emerged seconds later, giving a nod of recognition before cloaking. That little rendezvous had given BLU just a bit of an upper hand. Of course it had been planned; Spy was all about timing and precision. Couldn't resist deviating from the strategy a bit, though, just to spite the Aussie - he'd have an interesting story to tell the rest of the RED boys with that hickey, now, wouldn't he?

All in a day's work.