"Zhere is a vay ve do zhese zhings, mein Sniper. Und zhat vay is any vay but yours." Sniper's hands on Medic's jacket were promptly swatted away, and he smoothed out the crisp white material where Sniper's hands had upset it. These hands shot out again and groped at Medic's hips, pulling the man closer.
With barely so much as a twitch in warning, Medic's right hand came up to deliver a swift backhand to Sniper's cheek. The Aussie released his grip and stumbled back one step due to the impact.
Quickly enough, the marksman had recovered and was back on the doctor again. Medic was pushed back so far that the backs of his thighs were pressed against the edge of his desk.
"C'mere, ya mongrel," Sniper snarled, hands coming up to rip open Medic's jacket, buttons going flying in all directions. His eager hands found the German's red tie, yanking on it and pulling his head closer.
Sniper practically devoured Medic's mouth, biting and pulling on his lower lip. It wasn't until Sniper's tongue plunged in to mercilessly plunder the man's mouth that Medic reciprocated. He chomped down on the bushman's tongue, until he tasted blood, and the man yelped and leapt back.
He stood at a bit of a distance from Medic, who took a step away from his desk. He straightened his tie and jacket with the utmost military efficiency. He brought his ungloved right hand up to push his glasses back up his nose and regarded Sniper with a chilled, almost bored stare.
Despite have just been smacked in the face and having his tongue bitten down on, Sniper was nothing but eerie grins. Medic watched as Sniper's injured tongue slithered out, swiping over his dry lips and wetting them with saliva. Blood stained them crimson.
"C'mon, mate. Don't be like that." He crept closer to Medic again, but the German stood his ground. He stared into Sniper's eyes, though he was impaired by Sniper's sunglasses.
"I know you bin wantin' this just as bad as me, luv." He pressed himself against Medic once more, placing both his hands on the desk behind the doctor, effectively trapping him there. He leaned in close to the man, close enough to nip at his ear. "Bin itchin' fer it all week, roight doctah?"
His hands went to the doctor's coat again, pulling it open. Nimble fingers made quick work of the Medic's belt. He then unfastened the man's pants, then yanked them down his hips. They bunched up around his knees, and Sniper needed to change that. He squatted down on the floor and went to work on undoing and pulling off Medic's heavy leather boots.
Before Sniper could see it coming, Medic's hands shot out and fisted themselves as best they could in Sniper's short brown hair. Sniper's eyebrows rose in surprise, and he tilted his head up curiously.
"Wot?"
He was promptly answered by Medic's knee bashing into his face. He tumbled backwards, falling onto his ass on the cold white something-like-linoleum floor of the medical bay. His glasses flew off and fell to the floor with a clatter. Flecks of piss-yellow glass littered the floor where the shades had shattered.
Sniper's hands covered his face as he nursed his bleeding, probably broken nose. Blood spilled down his face and between his fingers. It ran down his chin and neck to get soaked into his red shirt. Wayward droplets marred the perfect white shine of the polished floor where they splattered, but Sniper didn't have time to notice it or to care.
Medic grabbed Sniper roughly by the shoulders and lifted him up, tossing him at his desk. The lanky Aussie crashed onto the surface of the desk, letting out a shout. All of a sudden, Medic was standing over him, unbuckling his belt and yanking open his trousers.
Sniper gave a very low growl, and made a move to sit up. He finally managed to brace his hands on the paper-strewn desk and pushed his torso up. Before he even had a chance to get his bearings, Medic delivered another punch to Sniper's cheek. Sniper's head snapped back, his Adam's apple trembling violently with his frenzied breathing.
When he tilted his head back up, Medic took in the damage that he had done without so much as a cringe. His bony knuckles had ripped open the skin of Sniper's cheek, and what wasn't bleeding and torn was gradually turning purple. His left eye was swelling to the point where he was having trouble opening it.
"Medic," he hissed, making another effort to sit up. His voice came out slurred. Probably a combination of blood washing back into his throat from his nose and the nose itself. "Wot t'fuckin' 'ell, mate?"
Medic's hands closed themselves around the Sniper's throat. They squeezed, and the Aussie flailed around a bit. He clawed at the hands that restricted his breathing, but his struggles weakened as his energy drained rapidly. He was barely breathing.
"Gut. Cease zhe struggling, mein Sniper. It is mein hope zhat you are comfortable. Ve are juzt getting started."
STAY TUNED FOR PART II.