Was that him moaning?

Lay back on the dirty sheets of some bushman's bed, his naked flesh hot and flushed, back arched so perfectly?

Could someone possibly be giving him so much pleasure that he was lost all of his professional air and composure and was now reduced to fits of whining, pleading, begging?

Amidst the sound of gunfire, of the Sniper's nest creaking all around them, dust falling from the ceiling, the Blu Spy moaned and writhed like he had never done so before. The air surrounding the bed was warm, the Sniper's warmth, his own warmth, and the feeling of those hands trailing across his sweat slicked skin was simply...merveilleux!

Every calloused fingertip leaving burning sensations across his skin; a trail of pleasure and sensitivity. His own chest rising and falling with his laboured breathing. Lips upon the most wonderful areas of his body, causing him to shiver with pleasure, moan with passion, tearing noises and twitches from his trembling frame without it being from torture.

Or maybe it was torture?

The fact that his most sensitive area, his aching length that had been so hard from the get go, had remained thus far untouched. No amount of hip thrusting, needy whining, or biting could convince the Sniper to do anything but take his own sweet time.

The Frenchman thought himself to be going mad with pleasure.

He uttered words that he knew his Sniper would not understand. "Plus...s'il te plait...plus!" Even considered switching to a language that his Sniper knew, but as soon as he opened his mouth, the English died on his tongue and he found himself voiceless for that particular language, pulled into more garbled French pleas.

He gulped in air and breathed hard, allowing himself time to recover slightly as the Sniper's lips trailed downwards on his arm, resting just above the Blu's tattooed wrist. Those black words that stood out so boldly on the pale skin. Marking one of the most pleasurable spots on the French assassin's body. A weakness on proud display.

Biting his lip, the Spy mumbled something in French and then felt his head explode with the pleasure as teeth joined in to bite gently at the thin flesh, the Red's lips and tongue assaulting him without mercy.

Not that he would have wanted it.

That wonderful slick tongue running over the lettering, touching the most sensitive part of him as it traced each word, his pulse beating rapidly beneath soft lips. Just watching how the Sniper moved made the Spy wish that he had another verse upon his other wrist for him to trace. Something meaningful to him. Something that represented his adoration for the Australian.

Not that the other tattoo was not meaningful. The Spy could vaguely remember his wrist being kissed and bitten in a similar manner when he'd first shown his small verse to the old Sniper, feeling that rough stubble scratching at his soft flesh, teeth biting at the veins carrying his burning blood.

It was a verse that had been tattooed after the Sniper had whispered his name into the Spy's ear, sealing their fate forever, making the Blu whisper his own name in his hoarse French tones.

Before he could dwell on this further, he felt one of the Red's hands trace over his thin hipbone, making him moan out again into the hot air. The Frenchman's hips lifted a little. He smiled down at the equally flushed face that was still suckling gently at his wrist.

"You...you will be...ze death of moi..."

Dropping his gaze down to the Spy's soft skin and delicate bones. He grinned, unable to believe he was allowed this close to an exposed assassin.

"Fuck, you're beautiful you know that."

A soft laugh from the Frenchman, him lying back more so against the soft cool sheets of the bed, his cobalt gaze fixed on his lover's face, "You speak zese lies."

Another kiss, more tender than the Sniper thought he was capable of. Calloused hands dipped into the sensitive crook of the BLU's arm, stroking at the untouched skin he found there.

"AGH!" The Spy jerked softly, laughing a little. Ticklish. The smooth assassin who rarely showed any emotion was actually ticklish!

Biting his lip, the blonde male was now mockingly glaring at his Sniper, "You...you and your...wandering 'ands..."

"You said I could..." rueful, like a scolded child, the Sniper laughed. "Too cute. Like a teenager."

"I am young for a Spy..." A soft purr. Adoring. Loving. Those usually cold eyes so gentle and caring when gazing at the Australian.

The wrist without words was presented to the Sniper, "You can explore me all you wish. I 'old no secrets or weaknesses from you, mon amour..."

"I'm... not much good at y'know. Looking at people, bein with guys. It's. It's difficult to me."

At that whispered response, the Spy sat up softly and offered a warm smile, "You would like me to continue to pleasure you? I am very good with my 'ands and my tongue, mon amour."

"Gods... don't fuckin say that. Damned Spy."

"Why? Do my words do things to you?" Before the Australian could react, that thin lithe form was on top of him, crawling over the length of his body, on all fours. Almost in a predatory fashion. Purring, "You would love it..."

"Love it?" The RED thought about the situation. Of course he'd loved it, every time they were together like this it was perfect. He shouldn't feel this way about another man, regardless the weight of the Spy in his lap was comforting and sexual all at once.

"Allow me to take over a little zen..." Gently, the Spy slid down, one hand stroking across the entire length of the Sniper's form until he reached his thighs, sitting between them with a soft smile on his face. Softly as always, he gripped his lover's length, before lowering his head down, tongue lapping at the tip eagerly.

"N.. nn," The Australian choked, pulling away before giving in. "Fuck. Damn Spy!"

Even the slightest twitch from the taller male did not seem to bother the Spy. He lapped softly around the tip, taking it into his mouth, letting his tongue explore the sensitive areas of the Sniper's cock, before moving a few more inches into his mouth more so. A low moan vibrated around the the entire length.

Quiet, gritting his teeth, the Australian was still extremely sensitive. Hard and tense he shivered.

With a soft lick to that sensitive head, the Frenchman pulled back a little and smiled, "Do you think...you could come for me zis evening?"

"No." It was supposed to sound forceful but it was simply a whine, child-like, and confused. Large hands covered his blushing face.

A soft sigh, "Zen...I suppose I must prepare you anuzzer way..."

Quietly the Sniper sat up and reached for a bottle of alcohol on the side. He took a heavy swig and fixed the Frenchman with his steely eye.

"You are, so cruel."

"Why so?" A smile on the Spy's face, so gentle and loving. "All i am offering you is pleasure. Would you razzer I just take what I desire?"

"You can do what you. What you like." Still with a trusting smile, that voice in the back of his mind warning him against trusting the BLU assassin, the Sniper nodded. "Feels good."

"I like to make you feel good." Softly, the Spy pulled up the Sniper's legs, resting them on his own shoulders, before gently sucking his long thin fingers lightly, "Zis...I 'ope...will feel good..."

"Damn," The Sniper felt he'd drunk too much, blushing and looking away from that powerful gaze. Understandable really. First there had been the revelation of the Spy's brother and himself meeting, then the sickness of the RED Spy's twisted mind had been brought to light, and finally the night had ended with them both lay there naked, no masks, not secrets, both just exploring each other, adoring each other, knowing each other.

There had been drinking inbetween, both Spy and Sniper's cheeks flushed red with the influence of alcohol, but it seemed that the Frenchman's mind was still as sharp as a tack. He was smiling as he gently placed saliva slicked fingers at the Australian's entrance.

The RED couldn't bring himself to say anything, choking out his protestations. He was flushed darker than he'd ever been, with the blinds down and a bottle of beer in his hand.

The whole time, throughout the whole process, the Spy simply smiled. Offered his reassurance through the facial expressions that his Sniper could now see. As one finger slid past the tight ring of muscle, entering the male beneath him, the blonde whispered hoarsely, "...it will 'urt...but I will make it feel good...I promise...you and me...will feel good together..."

"I know." He breathed out steadily, they'd done it before. It had been new and odd, but now he was willing to let this man have the run of his body again. This time fully seeing the face of the man he was about to accept inside him.

The Spy breathed gently and placed another finger inside, scissoring the Australian assassin wide. "Oh mon dieu...zis feels...better zan last time..."

"Cause I'm pissed, y'bastard. Because bein with you makes me feel like a bloody idiot. You're so good at this, so damned sexy."

The Spy's face seemed to flush with either embarrassement or pride, him laughing softly at these slurred yet honest words. When he spoke, it was low and it was passionate, "You make me feel like I could take on ze world, mon amour...but for now...I am content wiz taking you..."

Casually the Australian wondered if the Spy had thought of that line in advance. Submitting to his touches he realised he didn't care. Knowing the BLU, though, he probably had. Probably had been saving it for this moment, when the Sniper's legs were bent double over his long frame, and his own tip was pressing against that tight willing hole, ready to enter his love again.

"...You are ready?"

"As I'll ever be," A soft chuckle, the Sniper reaching up to touch the Frenchman's hips.

"Very well..." The Spy smiled.

Then there it was. Not forceful, but definately with meaning. That stretching, aching, filling sensation. The Spy was panting, whining, feeling each muscle of the Sniper's body clenching down around him.

"Oh...oh...mon...dieu..."

It was like nothing the Australian had ever experienced, a lot less rough than before. Like they were making love, like the last time he'd been with a woman, "Damn... damn... damn."

Whimpering softly, taking his time, easing his way in gently, the Spy breathed out softly, "...J'aime tu...mon amour..."

"Don' know what that means, but fuck it you're sexy when you speak French, c'mere." The RED sat up a little, tugging the Spy into his arms as the younger man slipped inside him.

A smirk. The Spy smiling ever so triumphantly in his knowledge that the Sniper could not know what he meant when he spoke French, and then, "...it means I love you...you are my love..."

"Really?"

A soft sigh from the French assassin. Discussing the French language during sex? Certainly not the craziest thing he had ever done, but it was most unusual when one was buried deep inside one's lover...

A smile, "Oui. I...'ave been slipping for some time now. Calling you 'my love'...'mon amour'...I 'ope...you do not mind zis..."

"Nah. S' so long as you mean it." The Sniper found himself mirroring the smile; like an awkward teen, not sure of himself but desperately wanting something. It felt so right being in the arms of the BLU Spy, like whatever the young man did it could never be bad.

"Oui. Of course I mean it." A chuckle. Then a gentle kiss placed on the lips of the lanky Australian. "Everytime I say it I mean it."

Pushing back against the Spy, the older man grinned, trying to sound nonchalant, "Well then. That's ok isn't it."

Without warning, the Frenchman thrust in hard, deep. "Oui. It is."

And the RED was lost, meeting everything the Spy had to give him. Swearing and moaning, he couldn't let go, wanting nothing more than to be in this bed with the Frenchman. Making love. That's what they were doing, but it didn't scare him. Not any more.

There was no hesitance. No suspicion that one would kill the other. Not even a memory of what had occurred before. For now it was just a RED and a BLU both joined in one simple act of love.

The Spy gasped, whined, moaned, his thrusts long and hard and steady. "I love you. I love you, my sniper."

"Love you too. Bloody Spy." The Australian laughed, almost as if he'd made a joke, but still being pumelled by the Frenchman.

It was almost too much.

The Spy groaned and felt himself orgasm deep within his Sniper, thrusting long and hard for a final time, letting out a soft whine of pleasure. "Mon...dieu..."

"Damnit, just do it. Gods feels... fuck. Fuck Spy."

The Frenchman cried out, coming deep within his Sniper, whimpering, muttering all kinds of soft words in French and English, whining for the other. The Australian was unusually quiet, long fingers digging into the Spy's pale skin.

When he could speak again, the Spy breathed softly, "You are alright, mon amour?"

"... Yup. Think I'm fine." His voice was a great deal smaller than usual, eyes closing softly. He was either embarassed or sleepy. Or both.

A soft laugh from the BLU, "Do you wish for me to stay ze evening? Ze battle is almost over outside."

"Would it be safe for you t'stay?" The Sniper seemed genuinely concerned reaching for a slightly crumpled cigarette on his side table.

Pulling out of his lover, the Spy stretched his pale thin frame out, and shrugged lightly, "I did it plenty of times before, mon ami. Per'aps you would like me to do ze same wiz you?"

A soft plume of smoke drifted about the Spy's head as he explained, "Ze previous Sniper. I often stayed overnight. Usually when I knew zere would be a ceasefire ze next day or so."

Humming thoughtfully, the BLU reached over and fished his own cigarettes and lighter out of the pockets of his folded clothes.

"Well, if y'think it'll be alright. Then go for it." The Sniper's large hands shook around as he grasped his lighter. Was it from nerves, or cold, or the lack of blood in anything important?

Softly, a flickering flame appeared in front of him, lighting his cigarette. A soft hand was placed over his own. "...I want to know zat you would want zis."

"Course. Guess I'm used t'sleepin alone."

"You think you could get used to 'aving me around?"

"Like some sorta stray?"

This comment earned the Sniper a snort from the Frenchman. The BLU huffed, "'Ow dare you liken me to zat of a dog!"

Chuckling the Australian could already feel himself slipping into unconsciousness. The smoke set him off beautifully. Laying back in his bed, sticky and naked. Yet he couldn't bring himself to care.

There was the Spy's heat upon him again, the Frenchman's own thin frame sliding into the small bed alongside his Sniper, nuzzling up to him softly. The BLU placed his head on the other's chest, closing his eyes, listening to that soft heartbeat.

"Mmm, sleepy now." He could barely feel his hand as it was held close to his mouth. "Warm and sleepy."

The cigarette was taken from him lightly and placed in the ashtray at the side of the bed, the Spy chuckling gently. "Goodnight, mon amour."

"Night. Spy." Never before had one syllable usually so charged with fear and hatred, been spoken with so much love.