AN: This is a direct follow-up to Routines, so please read that story first for this one to make the most sense!
War was mostly wait and the trick was not to let the long stretches of quiet unhinge you, or your nerves wouldn't hold when it really mattered. I had been on edge far too much lately to ignore this truth. Pressing my eyes shut, I turned to lean a temple against the gratifyingly cool wall of my room. I lounged this way a while, crosswise on my bed, listening to the percussion of rain on concrete and steel. It was a relaxing sound, and so rare in the desert.
For all the sophistication of the BLU base, it amused me to note a leak had sprung just a meter from where I rested— not all of the complex's inhabitants had the advantage of a second floor above their heads. Slow drops plinked a counterpoint to the rain as they fell in the tin mug I had scrounged from the kitchen. I glanced at the cup's water level, but it was nothing to be concerned with just yet.
Cartridges lay strewn across my bed, and I soon resumed my task of gun maintenance, grabbing several at a time to refill the speedloaders for my revolver. I had made fine use of them in RED's base yesterday.
A soldier had been the first casualty of my excursion, offed the way I had wanted: deliberately and with time enough to savor the experience. "Your trust— while flattering— was sadly misplaced," I told him at knifepoint, wearing the mask of my enemy. His face at that moment had been worth the inconvenience of battle in this remote station.
It seemed in my excitement that my grip had not been quite firm enough over his mouth, for his dying throes attracted a bit of unwanted attention. My fast reloading saved my life when their scout (also deceased) came upon the scene, and in a stroke of luck he had been transporting a sheaf of classified documents that would be of the highest interest to Headquarters. I knew, having sneaked a look at them myself first. Officially my excursion was a success.
Privately I was more than a little frustrated.
Immediately upon infiltration, I slipped down the straightest route to what I knew were HIS quarters, my body wound tight in anticipatory thrill. When the path led to an empty bedroom even more austere than my own, the sight had been disheartening. My hope refused to die completely, but as corridor after corridor revealed no trace of the spy, I had to accept the truth of things. All of the other REDs could be accounted for. Where had he been? That he could find me so effortlessly, while I struggled to... no, best not to dwell on that point. Now I was forced to be patient and wait for the team's paranoia to subside before I could— A few quick raps sounded on my door, jolting me from my thoughts.
"Oi, 's me. Mind if I come in?" a voice called out. Hmm, Sniper. Curious.
"The door's unlocked." I had no illusion that the only person I truly wanted to keep out couldn't pick a simple lock in seconds.
"Doc said 'e saw you with my mug," Sniper said quietly as he took his first step inside. I turned this statement over in my mind until I realized what he was referring to.
"That's it on the floor." I gestured in the direction of the leak, then affected disinterest. Any interaction between the two of us had been rather... strained since that day. It didn't stop me from stealing a glance as he knelt to take the cup, replacing it with my ashtray in what seemed an afterthought. Our eyes met as he stood and I broke the contact purposefully, hinting for him to take his leave.
When I didn't hear movement, I looked up expectantly at him. He stared back at me, expression unreadable. I breathed a deep sigh. "You're not only here for your item, are you."
"Shit— I'll get to the point," he started. "The other day you caught me off guard, and well— it's not like I'm some fag, mind you, just— using my own hand's gettin' awfully tiresome..." his words trailed off as he waited for my reaction. Fuck. This was not what I had imagined by any stretch. Sniper figured he could just change his mind as he pleased? I couldn't help but be indignant.
"It's not a game for you, is it? Burning bridges only to take back your nasty words? You made it quite clear what you thought of my proposal, and you can hardly expect me to be flattered."
"That was a knee-jerk reaction— I'm afraid I didn't give you a fair go. Come on, don't make this harder for me than it is." He took one step forward, then another, and the reality of the situation pressed in upon me. Sniper did look especially attractive, his smile on the sly side, his posture a little straighter than usual. I couldn't forget the grief he'd given me, but hell if I'd allow my pride to screw me out of this after wanting him for so long.
"Right... what exactly do you feel comfortable doing?"
"God, I don't know. Just touch me, get me off. Your hands. Your mouth, maybe. I'll... do the same for you." My pulse quickened at his words. Sniper was close enough now to pull down next to me and he let me do so with no resistance, the cup dropping from his grasp, our legs tangling as our bodies met. He made to roll on top, but I pushed a hip into his and steered him onto his back instead.
"Nnnhh. So forceful." I insinuated my hand past his belt to discover he was slightly hard already.
"You seemed to like it," I said, enjoying the feeling of him beneath me very much as well
"Guess there's no hidin' that." Sniper's arms slid around to clutch first at my back and then lower still. He murmured a vague protest into my ear as I removed my hand to trail a line along his sides with my fingers. When I shifted my weight, he arched up into me and we gasped simultaneously as our erections pressed together. Damn! Suddenly I wanted more contact, less constraint, more bare skin...
I swallowed, contenting myself with Sniper's shirt for now, my thumb grazing a nipple (another gasp) as I hiked it up past his chest. He helped pull it the rest of the way off and returned the favor by starting on the buttons of mine, his progress hindered when I replaced my hand and began teasing him with slow, painstaking strokes. The pace served my own ends. Maybe Sniper had expected a quick lay, but I would take my time and leave him craving my touch. He'd come to me again or feel my absence keenly.
At last Sniper finished with my shirt, his mouth open slightly from my efforts. I shrugged it off as he ran his fingers underneath the back of my balaclava and up through my hair. Oh fuck... The feeling was uncommonly sensual and it was my turn to be distracted. My breath was quick when I lifted the aviators from Sniper's face to admire his eyes, pale blue and striking. I smiled as I slid my lips along his jaw, touching the skin lightly with my tongue, and he pulled away at the sensation to study me.
"Too gay for you?" I taunted.
"No, it was... nice."
"I can do it more."
"Please."
I placed my lips on his skin again, breathing in. The sniper's scent was strangely neutral. I was expecting the weathered smell of things exposed to wind and sun for days on end, but this was pleasant enough, I supposed. Sniper was being remarkably cooperative, and that was good too.
I ran my mouth from his cheekbone to the base of his neck, where I halted. A frisson of menace ran through me, the same feeling I'd gotten on the field countless times before a pyro-trapped hallway or the moment an engineer's back was about to turn. Experience had taught me never to ignore it. As my mind ran through the possibilities, I traced the path again, scrutinizing the details. My hand shook with dread. Oh yes. There it was. A thin, nearly invisible gap of air between where my finger touched skin and the "sniper's" face actually appeared. I felt myself recoiling. This deception— the ignored signs, unmistakable— I had deluded myself...
"Somethin' wrong, Spy?" the other man asked, freeing himself the rest of the way.
Fear gave way to surety within the span of a second.
"No," I answered, my course of action becoming unequivocally plain to me. Nothing was wrong. That much was absolutely true. Agitation had clouded my mind in my other encounters with the spy, but now that I held the advantage, there was only an intense clarity. Forcing his hand would be the first step.
"Here's what you are going to do," I began, my voice patient and level. "You'll put your mouth to use right now, get me all nice and slick. Then you're going to lean back and spread those fine legs for me... Sniper." The spy pursed his lips at my words, looking thoughtful.
"Funny, I was beginnin' to have similar plans for you."
"Oh? Then do you have any complaints if we leave it to chance?" I asked, moving for my hidden knife, my excitement building. The spy grinned.
"Not at all, mate. But I insist on my lucky coin for this," he said, his hand inching toward his own pocket. In an instant, I reversed my arm and smashed him across the face with my fist. He raised his head, false countenance twisted into a grimace. I was gratified to see a trickle of blood running from his nose to his lip.
The spy had apparently not learned his lesson, as he made a second go for his blade; I intercepted the man's wrists easily and crushed them until he hissed in pain. It would be all too appropriate to restrain him with my knife I felt, but the situation ultimately required a little more control. I went for the revolver on my bedside table and quelled any unspoken protests when I steadied it at his head.