Stupid title is stupid, I know. I'm not good with these things.
-Killigan
Sniper scans the scene below him.
His teammates scream and bellow; blood stains the dusty ground in splatters of every size and shape. He watches as his own team's Demo is torn apart by the BLU Soldier's rockets, wincing.
A cursory glance through his scope does not reveal the enemy Soldier, though he does sight BLU's Heavy roaring his way across the field, Medic in tow.
Working quickly, Sniper takes aim and pulls the trigger. The great Russian falls to his knees with a pained roar, the bullet having passed cleanly through his skull.
A perfect headshot.
Heart racing with the triumph of a terrific shot, Sniper smirks and reloads, watching as the Medic shouts in surprise and nearly drops his medi-gun. He takes to his scope again, but by this time the German has recovered and run off to heal another teammate.
Sniper allows himself a brief pause to swig some decaf, squirming in his seat to try and get comfortable. He has been up here for most of the battle, picking off his opponents one by one, sending them straight into respawn. It's silent, exclusive work, but he enjoys the time alone.
"Boink!"
Sniper shifts, raising one leg up to rest his booted foot against a crate. His back is hunched, eyes sharp and alert as ever.
A streak of red catches his eye.
He follow his team's Scout as he zips across the battlement, bashing at BLUs with his bat as he passes. The Bostonian seems to be enjoying himself immensely, letting out unrestrained cheers when he finishes off a target. Sniper finds himself chuckling as Scout taunts an enemy Pyro.
For one brief moment, after Scout has hidden himself in a corner to drink some of that radioactive slop he calls Bonk, Scout looks up to where he knows Sniper is watching. A grin twists his lips, enhancing the mischevious youthfulness of his face. Slowly, he licks away a smeck of blood on his upper lip.
Sniper's cock stirs eagerly; he responds with an equally brief flash of his laser on Scout's crotch and mimes pulling the trigger.
Whooping with laughter, Scout raises his bat and disappears into the fray.
Sniper sets back to work, sighting the enemy Medic fresh out of respawn, aligning the German's forehead with his crosshairs.
The hunt is on.
Later, RED has lost the battle and he's sitting alone in the kitchen, perched atop a counter and drinking his decaf.
After berating them for their loss, the Announcer had coldly informed them that the following week both teams would be allowed a break. Sniper is glad for it. His eyes are tired, and he's eager to get some well earned rest.
The base is quiet. Eager to take full advantage of their rare week off, most of the men have gone out as far as they're allowed (with the Announcer's permission, especially for leaving early). As far as Sniper knows, Solly and Demo are probably out in Vegas again, Medic and Heavy have plans to explore the states nearby, and Engie's in his workshop. He hasn't seen Pyro or Spy. He suspects Spy's probably looking over his precious photos of the BLU Scout's mother.
It's a nice enough morning, he supposes, glancing outside. There was rain earlier, but it's cleared away enough for the sun to shed some light on the RED base. Maybe he'll go out for a drive later.
A loud laugh bounces through the hall and into the kitchen.
Sniper slides down from the counter and rinses his cup, setting it in the sink when he finishes and drying his hands. With the men either gone or cooped up in their rooms, the kitchen is quite clean, void of any sign that nine hired assassins live here. It'd be nice if it was like this all the time, he thinks wryly, and heads for the rec room.
That laugh was Scout's.
Striding silently around the corner, Sniper's eyes lock on the Scout, who sits with his eyes glued to the television set. Sniper can't be bothered to see what show it is, but it must be funny. Scout throws his head back and laughs again.
Sniper crouches, eyes glinting with the grin his mouth curls into.
He springs into a lunge.
Scout's shriek of surprise pulls laughter from Sniper's belly as his body comes into contact with the Bostonian's. They roll and crash from the battered sofa to the Scrumpy-stained carpet in a whirl of curses and flailing limbs, all on Scout's part.
"Goddamnit, Snipes!" Scout sputters, struggling against the Australian he's pinned beneath.
Keeping his hands and knees firmly on the younger man's sides, Sniper ensures that Scout can't escape before he leans in, letting the tips of their noses touch. Scout's pupils dilate, taking in the sight of Sniper's playful smile.
"G'day." Sniper says jovially. He presses his lips to Scout's hungrily and hums in satisfaction. They haven't had this much freedom in a long time, and Sniper plans to use it to his full advantage. Scout groans.
"C'mon man, not this faggot shit again." He gripes, though the smile tugging at the corner of his lips tells otherwise. To keep up the guise, Scout grabs at Sniper's hands and halfheartedly tries pulling them away.
"Last I checked, you liked this 'faggot shit,' and I'll thank you to keep your tongue civil." Sniper quips, squeezing Scout's hip. Scout's eyes darken and his breathing slows noticeably. Sniper's touch will always have this effect on him.
"I like when we're fuckin', jackass, not when you're chasing me around the goddamn base!" He snaps, and again contradicts himself by lifting his head up to return Sniper's kiss. Frowning, Sniper gives him a sharp nip on the bottom lip, wincing when Scout yelps. Noisy little bugger.
"Thought I told ya t'mind your tongue."
"Suck my dick, Wombat."
They're close enough together that Sniper can feel Scout's erection pushing against his own. He moves closer and lets his hips rub against Scout's, who gasps and grips Sniper's wrists in a knee-jerk reaction.
Sniper takes the opportunity to unbuttons Scout's pants, eyes flicking up to watch as Scout writhes in anticipation. He pulls the fabric down to Scout's knees impatiently, shoving the younger man's briefs aside. Taking Scout's length in one hand, he drops down to give the head a quick kiss. Scout's resulting breathy moan is enough to induce an orgasm all on its own, but Sniper manages to control himself.
He strokes at a languid pace; beneath him, Scout pants and moans, clinging to Sniper like a koala to a tree.
"Shiiit." Scout whines, shutting his eyes as Sniper takes him into his mouth. The damp heat of Sniper's throat is almost too much to bear. Struggling not to lose himself, Scout grips the front of Sniper's shirt and grinds his teeth. He can take this.
As if he's read his thoughts, Sniper does a quick slurping motion that sends Scout abruptly howling. His hips buck wildly, and Sniper has to grab them to keep him still.
"'Old on, mate." He cautions, and the movement of Sniper's tongue and lips around the tip of his cock wring a groan from Scout.
"Do that again!" He demands, groaning when Sniper obliges. "Harder, damnit!"
A low chuckle comes from his lover's throat, sending pulsing vibrations along Scout's length that make him cry out. "Let's not be greedy love, else there'll be none for later."
Scout doesn't listen: Sniper's promise of more adds to his euphoria. God, he needs this. "Fuckin' c'mon, dingo!" He rasps. "Fuck me!"
Sniper laughs and sits up, accidentally smearing Scout's precum and some of his own saliva onto his jaw. He's not disgusted by it, as Scout appears to be, but curiosity overtakes him. Wiping it up with his thumb, he puts the digit in his mouth and tastes, grinning cockily when he realizes Scout is watching breathlessly.
"Snipes! C'mon, man!" Scout gives the older man a furious glare, propping himself up on his elbows to add to the effect. "You can't just leave me hangin' like this!"
"Yes, I can. But don't worry, mate. We'll finish this up later." Sniper promises, and takes his leave, quite rudely leaving Scout half naked and on the floor where anyone can see him.
"Fuckin' tease!" He shouts.
A chuckle trails behind the marksman.
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