Man what kind of stupid title is that.
"Cher, my suit-"
"Aw, c'mon, Spook, s'just for a moment, you'll hardly get wet, I swear."
Spy opens his mouth to protest and finds himself being pulled out of his room instead.
"Sniper!" Spy hisses. He digs his heels into the ground in an attempt to slow Sniper's progress, but, wincing at the thought of scuffing his polished shoes, he resorts to grabbing onto the ledge of the nearest doorway instead.
A drastic measure though it may be, it is necessary. Sniper is close to unstoppable when he is determined.
"Don't be such a wuss, love, honestly!" Sniper laughs, and gives a mighty tug: Spy's fingers are pried from the doorway, and in a fit of loud laughter Sniper carries him the rest of the way.
Outside the base, he dumps Spy onto a wet lawnchair and skids off the battered porch, sliding to a halt a distance away from the base. He turns his face up to the night sky and the rain that falls from it.
Grumbling, Spy collects himself as coolly as one can when they've been dragged and tossed like a spitting cat. His suit is ruined now: dark splotches of rain turned mud taunt him, and though Spy stands beneath the porch's roof he quickly becomes drenched. It's a heavy rain, come down on the desert like a cool kiss.
He looks toward Sniper, and feels a reluctant smile spread on his lips.
The professional acting the child. He'd like to store the thought in his mind for later use (a tease, maybe an insult if need be), but another look at Sniper and he knows he can't. He has come to admire and love the Australian too much for that.
The rain has lightened up some since their arrival, but Sniper has not moved an inch.
Spy bites his lip.
Well.
His suit's already ruined.
Dropping his soaked gloves and suit jacket onto the lawnchair, Spy makes his way across the slippery terrain, careful to keep steady. The air smells of earth and iron, something like blood but not identical. His shirt and slacks cling to him, hindering his progress.
Sniper turns slightly when he reaches his side. He opens his eyes the slightest fraction, and Spy sucks in a breath when he's seized-gently-and pulled into an earnest, wild kiss.
Raindrops slide from Sniper's hair to Spy's, dripping down their noses and into their mouths. Their breaths, hot and hasty, mingle together when the two part for air, warming their lips before they meet again.
A nose skims Spy's jaw, fingers curling into his dress shirt, pulling at his collar to drop small kisses that send electric shivers down Spy's spine. "Takes your breath away, doesn't it?" Sniper asks.
Spy doesn't know if he means the kiss or the rain, but they both have the same answer.
Hands cup either side of his jaw, pressing Spy closer to him. In that instant, Spy feels his feet begin to slide apart on the muddy ground.
"Non, wait-"
He falls flat on his ass, slipping through Sniper's surprised hands like oil.
Sniper crouches beside him, brows furrowed in worry. "You alright?"
Spy doesn't answer. He's still fraught with the electricity from their kiss, and it shoots through his nerves like fire. Pulling Sniper down onto him is a necessity at this point. Their lips collide almost painfully, hands smoothing over rain drenched fabric.
He can't bring himself to care that he's ruining another suit, nor that he's lying in the mud or out in the rain where he can catch a cold. Sniper is all he can taste and feel, and somehow this makes everything okay.
The nature of the kiss is wild, feral. Sniper squeezes his hips, sliding a hand down to grope at the front of Spy's slacks-which he is surprised to find are tented. Sniper freezes, pulling back to unintentionally give Spy a good view of his own erection.
"Not here." He says, and pulls Spy up into his arms.
They don't make it farther than the base's entrance.
The pair collapses wetly into the hallway, breathing heavily and loudly. Spy can't remember which of his other seven teammate's rooms are the nearest, but he hopes fervently that they will either not hear or grin and bear it. They're not the only ones to have used the hallway, and though the memory still unsettles him, another squeeze from Sniper wipes all thoughts from his mind.
Spy straddles Sniper, fumbling to unbuckle his belt with cold and clumsy fingers.
"Need a hand, love?"
He watches breathlessly as Sniper takes his fingers into his wonderfully hot mouth, reviving the tips with a few clever sucks and twists of his tongue. It's the most erotic thing he's ever seen, and it holds him motionless, enthralled.
Eyes slightly wild, Spy nearly rips Sniper's pants as he undresses him, pulling his erection free in record time.
Reaching for the lube in his back pocket*, he nips at Sniper's lips and strokes him with practised fingers. Sniper tries to buck up into his palm, whining needily.
"'Old on, petit-"
But Sniper won't listen. He keens lowly, jerking up eagerly into Spy's hold and moaning at the friction.
"Please." Sniper mutters, head tipping back and lips parting to taste the rain-cooled air. The fact that he doesn't bother hiding the desperation in his voice makes Spy ache.
Spy works quickly now. He strips Sniper of his soggy shirt, unbuttoning his own slacks and pulling off his briefs. He runs his tongue along Sniper's rain-slicked torso, tasting the metallic tang of sweat and rain. "Do not worry, mon amour, I will not keep you waiting."
He takes up the lube and squirts some into his palm. At first he leisurely strokes it onto himself, but seeing Sniper whine impatiently makes him pick up the pace. Spy rubs a fingertip around Sniper's entrance and slowly pushes it in. Almost immediately, Sniper's rocking back onto his digit, hissing in a mix of pain and pleasure.
"Patience, petit." Spy says, and adds a second finger.
"I can't-" Sniper breaks off, eyes squeezing shut in relief as Spy begins to scissor him open. "I need you, mate."
The fingers inside him tremble slightly. "I know."
Swiftly they are replaced with the head of Spy's cock, lubricated and pushing in deep, but slowly at first. Sniper hisses out in pleasure, reaching up and tightening his arms around Spy's neck.
The sounds he makes are muffled into Spy's neck, though they sound like desperate pleadings and gasps. He bites at the skin, not hard enough to break the skin but sharp enough to cause little twinges of pain.
"A-ah-!"
Spy shudders, feeling the tightness around him clench again and again. He works himself into a faster pace, aiming for the spot that makes Sniper pant and writhe so deliciously beneath him.
Their bodies slide against each other perfectly, slicked by the rain and their sweat. The heat between them builds, as does the pressure that has been working up in their cores.
They're both close to coming; Spy can feel it. He pounds into Sniper, grabbing his cock and tugging swiftly on it. The smacking of their wet skin meeting repeatedly is loud, almost obscene. Spy attempts to slow down to reduce the noise, but once Sniper catches on he snatches his leg and grips it tightly.
"Don't you dare," he hisses.
"Pardon, petit." Spy murmurs, kissing him in apology. He resumes his quicker pace, working his fingers simuntaneously around Sniper's shaft, smearing precum over his palm and wrist.
"Ah, God, mate, I-"
Sniper breaks off into a wordless cry, arching up off the floor as his semen shoots onto Spy's hand and abdomen. His muscles spasm and clench so tightly that Spy comes instantly after, spilling into Sniper and clenching his teeth to avoid making noise.
He pulls out and falls against Sniper's chest, listening as the rapid drumming of his heartbeat steadies.
They lie in rest for a several few minutes, exhausted and dreading having to get up. Sniper encloses Spy in his arms, holding him flush against his chest and stroking through his hair with a tired hand.
"We should do this again next time it rains." He says, closing his eyes.
Spy chuckles. "Maybe."
He drags himself to his knees, buttoning his slacks. Looking down at Sniper, he cracks a smile at the sight of the sleepy and dirty Aussie.
"Come, cher. We need a shower."
*Ain't that convenient! Sorry, I got lazy.