phobiadeficient - Tumblr blog

phobiadeficient · 3 years

Note

BLU M!Sniper and RED F!Sniper split roasting their lover M!Scout?

(warnings for roughness and mention of jealousy, possessiveness, etc)

He had to know it was a long shot, but there he was, giving her puppy eyes and trying his best to explain himself.

 It was a bold thing to ask. And he admitted as much, admitted that he knew she hated the guy, and besides that he didn’t know how fond she was of... well, sharing. She spent probably half the time she complained about things complaining about the guy being a bastard, and a shitty sniper overall, accusing him of being a prick and having a big head and being a coward first and foremost. But also, Scout just thought, y’know, maybe...

And she had a very confident ‘no’ locked and loaded, ready to go, but then she looked back over at him and saw those puppy eyes again, and the only word that she managed to say after a minute was a particularly grumpy “Bugger.”

And when she eventually said yes—with a few stipulations—he didn’t exactly need to know, that... some of the problem was the fact that after a few years, her frustration with the other team’s Sniper had gotten a bit... charged. In a few ways. And she made sure to stress that she wasn’t going to be the one putting in the leg work to try to convince the bastard of anything, but she would be calling the shots.

The speed at which Scout agreed to all of that made her a little concerned that she was somehow being played, still.

Then apparently he actually managed it, then they were meeting at a bar, and Scout tactfully placed himself between the two of them at that bar so they wouldn’t strangle each other before they could talk, and she knew him well enough to be able to tell that his smile was just slightly forced as he looked between them.

“Uh, so, Snipes,” he said, and she raised an eyebrow at him. “Uh, we figured the name thing might get confusing, so I’ll still be callin’ you Snipes, but, uh—“

“Mick,” the other Sniper cut in before he could keep rambling. “Just call me Mick.”

“Funny, rhymes with ‘prick’,” she quipped.

His jaw tightened. Scout fidgeted, hurried to cut in again.

“Uh, but, yeah, I couldn’t get into details much since I figured we could kinda figure that stuff out a little better once, uh... once we get there, y’know?” he trailed, glancing around their vicinity briefly, self-consciously.

“I get the gist of it,” Mick said. “Agreed enough to show up, at least.”

“Not worried we’re here to ambush and kill you?” she asked.

“Implying I’m scared of you,” he said, and her grip on her glass tightened, and she was about to say a few choice words when she felt Scout’s hand on her knee, squeezing lightly, and she just huffed, taking another drink.

“So, if you’ve got any, uh, questions—“ Scout tried.

“Here’s one,” Mick cut in. “What are we all telling our employers?”

And he was surprisingly civil after that while they talked briefly about the implications for their jobs, and came to the collective conclusion that if one of them was screwed over, they’d all be screwed over, so they didn’t particularly plan on being rats. Sniper then informed Mick about a few house rules, mainly that if Scout told him to stop or let up, he’d damn well stop and let up, and that he could get rough if Scout asked, and Scout flushed all the way up to his ears during the entirety of it but for the most part she considered this important enough to ignore him.

And then they were finishing off their drinks, and then they were heading to the motel, and then Scout was getting them a room key and left the two of them alone for a moment.

 She had Mick by the collar in a moment, yanked down to make up for the two or so inches of difference in their heights. “Alright, you listen here,” she growled, sunglasses pulled off for the moment. “I bloody well mean it when I say that I don’t want you trying to make this into a contest. He’s my boyfriend, end of story. No matter what happens, I had him first. Clear?”

“Too bad you apparently need to bring someone else in to help keep him pleased,” Mick smirked, grinning like a bastard, and the only thing she could think to do that would wipe that stupid fucking smile off his face better than a swift punch to the nose was to kiss him like she wanted to maim in the process, so that’s what she did.

When Scout came back not even five minutes later, he found them both flushed, hair a mess, looking borderline murderous. “So... we’re doin’ this?” he asked feebly, and was yanked bodily towards their room.

She found herself on top of Scout in bed, boxing him in and kissing him like the world was ending while Mick mucked around in the bathroom. She didn’t waste time before starting to pull him free of his shirt, of his belt, and wasn’t surprised to find him already half-hard by the time she got a hand into his pants to cup at him.

When she pulled away enough to try and get her own shirt off, she registered the surprise that seemed to be evident on Scout’s face, the vague confusion largely overshadowed by awe. And she took the opportunity to bend down, mouth finding the space just under his jaw, stopping there to nip and suck hard enough to make him jolt, groan, grip at her shoulders—not pushing or pulling, just holding on for dear life as she sucked a mark and finally pulled away to look down at him again.

“Mine,” was all she said, voice a growl, and he nodded vigorously, clearly already dizzied by the entirety of what was going on.

And then she heard the door to the bathroom opening, and she pulled back enough to glance back in the direction of it, and was only half-surprised to see Mick already shirtless. Still had the shades on, though.

“Be patient,” she murmured to Scout, pressing a brief kiss to his cheek to quiet the beginning of a complaint when she sat up and climbed off him, moving to her bag to get what she’d need.

And by the time she’d untangled the increasingly-familiar harness and gotten it most of the way on, she was distracted by the sound of a stifled groan. She glanced over her shoulder and saw that apparently Mick had taken over for her, and was two fingers deep and carefully spreading Scout open, quieting how loud Scout tended to get with a biting kiss.

She paused entirely to watch for a few seconds, surprised by how hot that visual was making her, sending a shiver clambering up her spine, and even slightly more surprised at how quickly he was working. Clearly he had some experience with this.

“Bring a lot of men around seedy motels?” she couldn’t help but quip, trying to distract herself from the heat thrumming through her.

Mick pulled away from the kiss to raise an eyebrow at her. That was when she noticed that apparently Scout had coaxed him out of his glasses. “Enough,” he admitted casually, tone entirely more level than it should have been given the way that, now without a kiss to distract him, Scout had needed to bite down on the meat of his own hand to keep quiet, a litany of pleased little noises pouring out of his mouth.

“I imagine this is just another Saturday for you, then,” she huffed, finally managing to get that one buckle that always stuck to cooperate with her.

“Nah,” Mick replied, glancing back down at Scout for a moment while he reached and took his by then straining dick in his hand, giving it a brief pump just to hear the way Scout’s voice cracked high for a second. “Have to admit, this one here’s been caught on my scope a few times besides just to shoot him. He’s good-looking.”

Scout looked like he very much wanted to reply to that somehow, but his first word was replaced by a choked noise as Mick twisted his wrist just so and squeezed around the head, thrusting his fingers once, hard. She caught Scout’s eye, saw the same awe on his face, like he wasn’t entirely sure this was really happening, then saw the hunger flit into his expression as she pushed the toy into place on the harness and finished tightening it. “You’re right on that,” she agreed, moving over and cupping at Scout’s cheek, feeling the heat of his face under her hand and grinning at the fact that he couldn’t seem to decide whether to look at the strap or at her face. “But if you think he looks good now, you should see him here in a few minutes.”

“Might not be that long,” Mick replied, glancing over at the attachment and pulling his fingers free, wiping off his hand.

“I’m, I’m good,” Scout agreed, nodding hard. “So, how are we gonna do this, are we—“

Mick shut him up with a pair of hands bodily flipping him over and promptly pulling him up onto his knees, and Scout’s shiver of pleasure at the manhandling was misread by Mick, who squeezed his hips comfortingly for a moment. “Me in front, yeah?” he asked Sniper, who nodded, Scout hurriedly stammering out in the affirmative as well.

And she was slowed down in her attempt to arrange everything how she pleased at the visual of Scout fumbling his way through trying to open Mick’s pants one-handed, just a little bit too pleased at the notion of sucking him off, taking him into his mouth with enthusiasm that was just a touch too much, made that jealous streak flare up for just a second, and she didn’t bother reining herself in as much as usual as she dug fingernails into his hips, pushing in.

That groan he always made at that initial push was muffled, then echoed by Mick as Scout sank further forward and apparently did something very right. She couldn’t tell as well from the angle she’d found herself in, and didn’t particularly care. She’d only care if those noises started sounding too strained.

“Pull his hair,” she suggested, pleased to find that at the very least, she got to be the most put-together. Mick glanced up, expression hazy. “He likes it.”

He did so without further commentary, threading a hand in through the longer hair up at the top of his head and tugging, using it for leverage to push him down further. Scout groaned his appreciation, a distinct flex in his back letting Sniper know he was honestly leaning in to it just as much as Mick was pulling.

Alright, she was coming around. He won. Scout was right. This was a good idea.

She didn’t bother warming him up into things, knowing that he’d sometimes complain about her going too slow when she did it on normal nights, and he’d be even more frustrated if she did now. She just started straight into rocking her hips in steady motions, knowing by then just the right rhythm to leave him breathless without making her get too out of breath. She could keep it up for a good, long time, and always ended up enraptured at the way Scout melted, arching into it and gasping and moaning and gorgeous.

This time, he was a little distracted by clearly putting a good amount of effort into sucking off the other man, but even then he was noisy, and that only made Mick buck into his mouth all the more often.

“Gorgeous thing,” Mick choked, petting through his hair for a moment before snaring it and using it to buck into his mouth with more intent than before, and Scout just moaned, tilting slightly to accommodate. “God. Like you’re bloody made for this.”

“You have no idea,” Sniper said, breath a bit hard but still even, rhythm speeding for a moment to make Scout squirm. “I go too long without doing this to him and he gets so needy. He’d probably beg, if I made him wait too long. The way he begged for this tells me that much.”

“He’s blushing,” Mick informed her with a breathless sort of chuckle, and she saw that his ears were indeed turning red. “Poor thing. Can’t even defend himself with his mouth full.”

Scout made a quiet noise in the back of his throat that might have had something to do with the little extra roll Sniper put on the end of her next thrust, but Mick raised an eyebrow, pulling him back from his hair.

“Somethin’ to say, there?” he asked, hand falling to tip Scout’s chin up, and Sniper heard the way he was panting and slowed down her thrusts, knowing how close he had to be if he was making that kind of noise on the exhale.

Scout panted for another few moments, and finally made a disgruntled noise, shifting his weight. Sniper had to move forward with him a little bit, and he choked on breath for a moment before he recovered enough to speak. “If you’re gonna fuck my mouth, do it already,” he said, voice harder than expected. “And, and you can pull my hair harder than that.”

Sniper chuckled at Mick’s expression, slightly taken aback but clearly thrilled by this turn of events. “Alright then, get back down here,” he rumbled, and Scout did with enthusiasm, and then the pace was shifting.

She waited until Mick found his rhythm before she matched it, stepping up a notch, moving in double-time with the thrusts into Scout’s mouth. The skin of their thighs slapped together and Scout made desperate little noises every few thrusts, clearly completely overwhelmed by the way he’d gone so lax she needed to hold up his hips some amount for him. She only stopped occasionally to try and catch her breath or to readjust, shifting to long, slow strokes aimed as best she could to drag mercilessly against his prostate, and Scout whined helplessly each time it happened, bucking for emphasis until she started back up into the speed she’d had before again.

Mick seemed to sense something she didn’t—probably aided by the fact that he could see Scout’s face, feel his moaning—and told Scout to stroke himself. He did, moaning kicking up in pitch with his desperation, and that pushed Mick over the edge, swearing and fucking more roughly into Scout’s mouth before he spilled with a hard shudder. Scout moaned his pleasure when he could get air, strokes slowing down as he focused on not choking, and then his mouth was freed and he was panting and groaning against Mick’s thigh, rocking more firmly back into Sniper’s thrusts.

“Gonna come for me?” Sniper crooned in the sweet, teasing voice that always made him shiver when he was like this. “C’mon, we wanna see.”

Mick hummed in the affirmative, petting through his hair. Scout’s head was tilted a bit now, and Sniper watched Mick’s thumb drawing across his bottom lip, watched Scout’s eyebrows screw together with it, eyes falling closed, and Sniper filed it away as something she should try on him later. She moved to those long, firm strokes again, and Scout choked on nothing, going tense, jerking under her.

“Gorgeous,” she praised, rocking once and twice more for good measure, and he unclenched his teeth enough to gasp at it, and then he was relaxing, breathing hard.

She pulled free slowly and carefully, and Scout’s grunt of vague discomfort was muffled, Mick having leaned down to kiss him, still dominating but considerably more gentle than before. She left them to it as she stood to unclasp the harness, a little out of breath herself.

She’d only gotten one leg free when a pair of arms snaked around her waist, a familiar nose pressed into her hair, a breathless little chuckle fanning against her overheated neck. “Hey, c’mon, what about you?” Scout mumbled, half teasing and half hopeful.

She scoffed, but it was hard to get much feeling behind it. Seeing him like that, and the way the strap pressed against her as she’d been fucking him, and how hot the whole situation was, it all added up to make her feel… well. A good bit more turned on than she’d thought she would be. “What about me?” she asked, kicking free the rest of the way and trying not to separate from him.

“I want you to like this, too,” he said, and she jumped a little at the feeling of fingers trailing at her inner thigh.

“You don’t need to do that, I’ll be—“ she started, and was cut off as her breath hitched, Scout having gotten bold enough to push his fingertips against her more firmly. Her exhale was shaky as he trailed his fingers against her, the slickness there under his callouses apparently taking both of them by surprise if Scout’s little gasp was any indication.

“Jesus,” Scout whispered, sounding a little awed, a little desperate. “C’mon, please? I can’t just leave you like this, I wanna—“

 His index and middle fingers found either side of her clit, rubbing with just the right amount of pressure, and her knees threatened to buckle for a moment. “Ngh,” was what she managed instead of a proper response, pulse hammering, and she gasped outright as Scout’s other hand rose to cup and squeeze at her breast, making her arch. “Christ, I, fine, just—“

He nosed her hair aside, pressing a kiss into her neck and kneading at her just so, his own breathing a little shaky.

“Wait,” she bit out, and he stopped, freezing in place.

That gave her time and brainpower to move, turning around and pushing him down onto the bed again, boxing him in with her legs before leaning down, kissing him absolutely silly. His noise of confusion morphed into a noise of contentment, hands finding her waist almost automatically. When she pulled away again a long moment, he was flushed and clearly a little dizzied, his lopsided smile on display. “That a yes?” he asked, hopeful.

She glanced him up and down. “Mostly I’m just surprised you’re still up for more,” she admitted. “Figured we’d put you through the paces already.”

“Nah,” he said, squeezing appreciatively for a moment. “You know I’m always up for more of whatever.”

“Even after getting fucked two ways in one go?” she asked, eyebrows raising.

“Especially,” he admitted, head turning for a moment to glance at the other man, who admittedly she’d almost forgotten about. Mick appeared to be about halfway through a cigarette, shamelessly ogling the two of them, making no attempt to cover himself up and grinning a little when she met his eyes.

Mick looked at her for a moment, then down at Scout, who she felt shift a little under her, clearly preening at the attention, at the heat there. Mick stretched his neck from one side to the other languidly and reached to tap out his cigarette before he looked back over at Sniper. “You’ve got rubbers, yeah?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at her. She nodded. “How about I take back and you take front this round?”

She blinked, glancing him over, then down at Scout. She was honestly a little surprised to hear they were ready to go again already, having not expected much more than that first round and maybe an attempt to crowd into one mattress if Scout was feeling particularly needy after. But then she looked at his face, and Scout seemed to be trying his hardest to give her his best puppy eyes.

“Bugger,” she sighed, and Scout grinned.

#//sniperscout #//fem!characters #//teasing #//powerplay #//begging

22 notes · View notes

phobiadeficient · 3 years

Note

cockwarming prompt, if possible? speeding bullet, watching tv together and scout is like; "you know what would make this feel better? to have you dick up my ass", so they just kinda spoon like that

sometimes you just hang out. just vibin

(no warnings)

Scout’s breathing was slow and even, eyes only half-open, limbs loose and relaxed as he leaned back against Sniper, eyes focused on the little screen a few feet away from them. You’d think he was falling asleep there if not for a few other facts.

His hard-on, his lack of pants, and his very careful placement in Sniper’s lap.

Not very long into him sinking into place and settling to rest there, the urgency and desperation had crested, falling to a buzz beneath his skin, making it prickle with sensitivity, making him feel almost light-headed. It felt almost like the moment after an Uber-Charge wore off. It felt almost like being high, but slower, gentler.

One of Sniper’s hands was tracing over his lower stomach, fingers trailing up through the hair there, motions both soothing him and rousing his nerves.

He turned his head to try and look at the clock. It had been somewhere in the ballpark of twenty minutes already, almost thirty. It felt like it had been longer than that, like he’d been there for hours just enjoying this pleasure, warm and content and—

A pair of lips against his neck distracted him from his thoughts, drew a sigh out of him, a slight shift of weight into the feeling, and his breath caught alongside a huff of air against his skin. God, Sniper was so hard inside him, practically throbbing, and the reminder made his own desperation tick up a few notches.

But then Sniper’s chin was back against his shoulder, hand returning to comb calloused fingers against his skin gently, and it faded back into a thrum of background noise again.

Time passed, and he was drawn back out of his own head again at the feeling of Sniper shifting slightly, and then his hands were trailing along the inside of his thighs, rubbing palms against the warm skin there, squeezing lightly. Scout realized he was holding his breath, and didn’t dare look down, knowing that if he did, Sniper might stop.

So suddenly that it tore a noise from his throat, a hand around his dick, a thumb tracing against the head. It was slick, slick enough that he realized he’d been leaking precum for a while by then. That thumb spread the slickness around, slow and steady, almost aimlessly, before the hand returned to his thigh, holding on there, steady and warm.

He waited for his breathing to fall back under control again, but it didn’t, not for one minute, two, five. “Snipes,” he managed, voice just above a whisper.

“Mhm,” Sniper hummed, voice a low rumble.

“I really wanna come,” he admitted, voice ragged.

Another hum, and silence for a few minutes. Then shifting, the hands on his thighs moving from steadying to lifting, adjusting, and god, it really wouldn’t take much. “Go on,” Sniper said in a similarly rough voice, urged him along with a light rock, and that was all the permission Scout needed. He started to roll his hips, and was shocked at how fast he could tumble over the edge if he really wanted to, but hell, he’d drawn this out for so long already, he could last a bit longer.

But then Sniper’s hand was back on him, tugging in steady motions, and he couldn’t have held on for a second longer even if he wanted to. He jerked, gasping hard, and cried out at the feeling of Sniper thrusting up into him once, twice, throwing him hard from pleasure up into ecstasy, overwhelming him in an instant.

When he came back down to earth, Sniper’s hands were on his thighs again, resting there more than anything else. Scout shifted up, made a bitten-off noise of displeasure at the discomfort of parting, and then he was sitting again, trying to catch his breath.

“Don’t fall asleep on me,” Sniper warned, as if he didn’t sound half-asleep himself.

“I won’t,” Scout mumbled, and relaxed back into another kiss pressed briefly to his neck. And they could clean up in a few minutes, he just wanted to sit there for a little bit longer.

#//sniperscout #//powerplay

36 notes · View notes

phobiadeficient · 3 years

Note

Hiya! Would you mind doing one about Pyro x Scout? Like a top Pyro and bottom Scout and the plot could be that Scout and Pyro were in a date at a baseball game and things go from there

i need to write more pyro/scout its a great break slate sorta deal

(warnings for mentioning potential vouyerism)

“There’s—ngh!—a j-joke here, about, runnin’ the bases, but I’m, I’m not gonna try and stretch for it,” Scout laughed breathlessly, flushed from the tips of his ears straight down to his collarbones, half-glancing over his shoulder towards Pyro.

Pyro, in turn, mumbled right back something along the lines of “you’re already stretching for it”, making him bark out a real laugh a moment before he was left gasping, head dropping forward again.

In the bathroom of a stadium during a baseball game was probably not among their best ideas, when it came to places to do this. But to be fair, it wasn’t like it was, like, a major rivalry game or anything, the stadium wasn’t all that crowded and the door creaked like a motherfucker and nobody was exactly busting down doors trying to catch people boning in the second to last stall.

Pyro rolled their hips again, murmured in a questioning tone, and Scout nodded, breathed, shifted his stance a little before finally just kicking one leg free of his pants and bracing himself better with one foot up on the toilet seat, and finally assured them that yeah, he’s good, just get on with it.

And he had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep quiet when they wrapped hands more firmly around his hips and did just that, rolling once and twice to make sure things were really alright before just starting straight in on a hard rhythm.

He focused on the feeling of the tile against his forearms, the muffled sound of the announcer outside, the brief roar of the crowd as something apparently happened, anything to keep this from being a three-minute sorta situation. And yeah, he didn’t exactly want this to take too long, but he didn’t want to leave Pyro hanging in any sense of the word either.

But, like, damn. Pyro knew what he liked, knew he liked these sort of hard, steady motions, knew to squeeze tight with their hands, knew just the right angle of hips to make his breath catch, to make him really have to fight to stay quiet.

Fuck, he barely even remembered what started this. Pyro hadn’t really explained. Just something about him looking good in regular people clothes. And then the two of them were going to grab something from concessions, then Pyro hooking onto his arm and tugging him into the bathrooms and him being wildly confused up until the exact moment that the door was locked and they slid their hands into his back pockets.

He was brought back into his head by the feeling of Pyro pressing a brief kiss against his back through his shirt, and fuck, he couldn’t help himself, he reached down to start tugging himself off. And Pyro stifled a laugh into his shoulder at the needy little sound he made, but it couldn’t quell the rising tide, couldn’t push down the urgency.

“I knew you liked baseball, but this is a little much, don’t you think?” Pyro asked, and he could hear that they were smiling and out of breath, and he went to make a joke back but then the pace was picking up just slightly, and they made a little noise in the back of their throat, and—

“F-fuck,” he choked out, urgency in his tone, and Pyro picked up on it, thrust once, twice, three and then finally four times with just that much more force and he was gone, spilling into his own hand, the roar of blood in his ears almost drowning out the roar of the crowd.

And he felt Pyro pull out, heard their own bitten-back groan as they finished themself off. and then they were both just panting faintly, trying to get their heads together.

“Better clean up before I get banned from a stadium again,” Scout managed. “Right after I get a home run, too.”

And Pyro laughed, and he grinned, and he didn’t get kicked out of a stadium.

#//pyroscout #//public sex #a short one tbh

21 notes · View notes

phobiadeficient · 3 years

Note

sniperspy and/or engiespy with bondage+oral fixation?

why have cuffs when your boyfriend has a robot hand

(no warnings)

Once, he’d asked Spy why he’d started smoking. And it wasn’t that he had no idea why people smoked, he understood perfectly well—mostly, he was curious about whether there was a particular reason, be it people around him smoking, or to cope with stress, or for any other reason. And apparently it was the third option, as Spy had flippantly, casually replied that he simply had something of an oral fixation and this was how he dealt with it.

That memory came back to him now, here, in a completely different situation, and it was no wonder why.

Spy snubbed his cigarette out and left it balanced precariously on the ashtray as his attention turned more fully to the Engineer, roused from his idle smoking and appreciation of the silence by his lover’s hand tickling through his chest hair. He murmured some phrase that was lost to the skin and stubble just beneath the Engineer’s jaw, kissing and nipping lightly enough to avoid causing marks but not so lightly as to be ticklish.

Had he not been told about Spy’s habit, he would’ve written it off as being something related to his status as a Frenchman. Instead his affinity for kissing over any given bare piece of skin that he had within his line of sight read as a different kind of endearing.

“You’re startin’ something here, darl, you best be prepared to finish it,” he warned lowly, teasingly.

“Mm,” he hummed sweetly against the Engineer’s jugular, giving it a parting peck before pulling back enough to give him a smile. “I’m not entirely sure I’m prepared for any more of your attentions tonight, mon cher, but I’d be more than happy to be the one doing the pleasing, if that’s why you’re implying.”

“It is now,” he growled, and knew he’d done it right when Spy chuckled as he was flipped onto his back and his arms were pulled up over his head.

He hadn’t gotten dressed in the slightest, and as it had done many nights before, it was paying off.

“Think you could handle me, just like this?” he asked, holding both of his wrists comfortably but firmly in place with the Gunslinger and using his other hand to trace meaningfully across Spy’s bottom lip with his thumb. Spy not only nodded, he went so far as to tilt his head up further to press a sweet kiss to the pad of his thumb, nipping at it almost playfully as he pulled away. “Alright, you asked for it.”

It only took a few moments of stroking himself to get back into shape enough to give Spy something nice to suck on, and he did, with gusto. He was left only able to help support Spy’s head and neck as Spy took over the moment he was within reach, mouthing at the crown and taking him deeper into his mouth in a way that could only be described as naturally, like falling back into a rhythm.

Spy had said before, more than a little smugly, that his skill at giving head came from a place of practice and experience. The Engineer would argue that it didn’t hurt that he clearly loved it so much.

“Gorgeous,” he panted, unsure of when exactly he started getting short of breath, and Spy hummed, clearly pleased, eyelashes fluttering a little bit with it.

He couldn’t help himself, starting to roll his hips forward in rhythm with the bobbing and sucking Spy had started in on, and that made him hum again, this time in encouragement. And he could see the mix of concentration and dreaminess in Spy’s expression, the determination and spaciness, the conscious grounding as he lost himself in the action, in the rhythm, in the pleasure. The way he flicked his tongue just so when he pulled almost all the way back was out of skill and also passion, and the way he swallowed hard whenever he could manage was because he knew it would make the Engineer sweat and also because he loved it.

And Engie tried to pull away when he felt the edge creeping dangerously close, but Spy protested with a more urgent hum, tugging as if to free his hands and leaning back up to take him back into his mouth, and that was all the permission the Engineer needed to rock forward and finally spill with a groan of defeat.

And Spy was licking his lips by the time he’d opened his eyes, and that made him shiver, releasing his wrists and moving to lie back down on the bed with practically shaking limbs.

“You flatter me, mon cher, I know my skills are good, but surely they aren’t that good,” Spy teased, stroking fingers against his upper chest, entirely too pleased with himself despite his words.

“Not my fault I’m in love with a man with an oral fixation,” he joked, and earned a scoff for his trouble, and that was how he knew he did it right.

#//engiespy #//bondage #this is a sappy one tbh

16 notes · View notes

phobiadeficient · 3 years

Text

another double whammy incoming

(warnings for severe overstimulation, but i should stress that they absolutely have safe words and signals available at any time)

It was so much, too much, way too much, he couldn’t do this but he couldn’t stop, either.

If the ropes around his wrist were less soft he was sure they’d have chafed them to shreds by now with how much he was struggling, and he was sure the gag would have teeth marks in it by the end of the night, and he was so loud despite that gag that he didn’t even know the point of it.

Maybe this was the point, to get him this loud even through the gag.

Scout had said something pretty early on, and it had set his heart to sinking down somewhere near his toes. That, well, was Sniper really actually enjoying any of this? Because he was always just so quiet, and it made him worried that he was doing something wrong, or just not quite right enough. And he’d said no, of course it was good, it was fantastic, he’d just... never quite been able to manage loud in his life. Or noise at all, really. He always felt too...

And it took days of pushing and prodding to get to the end of the sentence, and even then Sniper was nearly too red-faced for it, practically shut down for the entire rest of the day.

Too self-conscious.

And Scout liked to push him, to tease him. Had managed not only to get Sniper to admit that the idea of people tied up in bed was nice, but that he’d like for someone to do it to him, which was a miracle on its own. And there were times when Scout had him strung up and strung out and desperate that he managed words, almost even managed noise.

But this was different, this was so much more. Usually Scout edged him a good bit, and it was lovely, made his head spin and his limbs heavy in the afterglow and his sleep deeper than he could ever manage on his own. It wasn’t often, though, that Scout trussed him up like this, gag and all, and rode him slow and steady and sweet and far too lovely to last,

and just kept going.

Sensitivity had taken hold fast, made him dizzy and electrified, sending tension through his body and making him cry out wordlessly that no, it was—he was—it—fuck—

But those slow, steady rolls just continued, Scout not pausing for even a moment, and he had no idea how long passed before the nearly painful amount of overstimulation subsided back into pleasure, only that it still felt like so much, almost too much to bear.

And he knew there was an easy way out of this. All he needed to do was snap his fingers once to get Scout to slow down and take the gag off, and twice if he wanted to stop entirely. But... Scout looked so lovely like this, absolutely in his element with each roll of hips and quiet groan of pleasure and quiet praise that he was doing so well, so good, so good for him, just a little longer, just a little more.

And he could go just a little longer, a little more. He could. He knew he could. He could be good.

And he felt some kind of distant amazement at himself as he felt the edge tumbling into view again, much faster than he’d ever thought possible, and he tried to groan a warning at first, but then it escalated into whimpers, into whines, into outright moans as his hips jittered and he came again, weaker this time.

And still Scout didn’t stop, and those moans turned into pleading noises, into gasps, and he didn’t realize he was sobbing until he tears clouded his view of Scout, trickling down his face and dampening his hair.

“So good, doll, you’re doing so good,” Scout praised, breath uneven, eyes hazy, expression glowing with a kind of satisfaction that reached beyond just sexual need, and it made his breath catch all the harder. “You need me to stop?”

And he gasped for air, for clarity, and managed to shake his head no, squeezing his eyes shut.

An ‘aww’ from Scout, the feeling of him shifting his weight, and lips pressing in gentle pecks down the tear tracks. “It’s a lot, huh?” he said sympathetically, and Sniper nodded, voice settling back into whimpers for the moment, every exhale carrying that little note of noise. “You’re doin’ so good for me. Such a good job. You’re so brave, doll, really.”

And that made him shiver for a different reason, sent tremors through him only somewhat related to the total overload going through his nervous system. And Scout quieted those shivers with soft strokes of his hands down his biceps where they were pulled taut over his head, down his ribs and back up his chest before he planted his balance and went into a harder rhythm.

“You can do one more,” Scout seemed to decide, and his eyes shot open, and he gazed up pleadingly, because no, he couldn’t, there was no way. “C’mon, just one more, I know you can do it.”

He couldn’t, he couldn’t, he could bear this but he couldn’t come again, he didn’t have it in him, already this was so much, too much, already his head was spinning and his limbs were heavy with pins and needles and it was so, so much, he just couldn’t—

But Scout was gasping, eyebrows furrowed in concentration, and finally his hand dropped to tug at himself, and that rhythm sped just slightly and he just kept saying it over and over. “One more, babe, c’mon, one more,” like a mantra, like a plead, and suddenly the overwhelming sensation was cresting in him and taking him up and up and up and he couldn’t stop it even if he wanted to.

And he screamed when he came, a few times, short bursts, hard yanks at his hands that he was sure must’ve almost sent Scout toppling, but he couldn’t tell over the roaring of his own blood in his ears, the hormones swirling through him and making him practically black out.

And he was pretty sure he did black out for a second, because all of a sudden the gag wasn’t in his mouth and his hands were untied and Scout was snuggled in next to him and he couldn’t remember any of that.

And he didn’t even have time to clear his throat before Scout was gingerly pressing his canteen into his hand, and he drank from it until he couldn’t tip it any further with his trembling hands, and then he did clear his throat and realized how raw his voice was.

“Sorry. That was loud,” he managed, voice even more gravelly than usual.

And Scout kissed him, a gentle thing there at his collarbone, and he could just barely catch the corner of his smile in his periphery. “Eh. We’ll get you louder,” he said like a promise, and god, he didn’t know how, but all at once he really hoped so.

#//sniperscout #//bondage #//powerplay #//overstimulation #//begging

51 notes · View notes

phobiadeficient · 3 years

Text

would you believe i got two of these in the upwards of thirty requests in the inbox

(warnings for aggressive and possessive behavior, all entirely consensual)

Scout was perfectly aware of the fact that he was in this mess because he didn’t know when to shut up and when to leave well enough alone. He knew that. He was aware.

Because that’s the thing, it was so easy—hell, so fun to get a rise out of any given member of the team. Engie, Heavy, Soldier (assuming he could get away again before Soldier could catch him and make him do push-ups or some shit), any given member of the team was so fun to piss off. It was just so much more entertaining to piss off the Alphas in particular.

And for the life of him he just couldn’t seem to get Sniper to crack.

It had started with just annoying the man, then truly trying to get on his nerves with assorted jabs and pranks and other minor problems. And then it had escalated, and he figured, well, what better way to rile him up than to flirt? That would really drive him up the wall.

And it took him probably longer to notice than it should’ve, the fact that he wasn’t just interested in Sniper in regards to pissing him off, but also just interested in Sniper. But he figured it out, and leaned into it further.

Just words, at first, then standing much closer than he needed to, lingering touches to Sniper’s shoulder, his arm. Winking, leaning past him to get things, spending time in Sniper’s sight line between matches. No response. No rebuttal.

Finding Sniper off away from the team, out of sight, and flirting more overtly. Picking lint that didn’t exist from the collar of his shirt, visibly giving him once-overs, making idle filthy comments and jokes that would be enough to make even Medic blush, probably.

He caught a tightness to Sniper’s jaw, a flushed tint to his face, his grip on his gun going white-knuckled before he turned away to ignore Scout some more.

And still spending the rest of his time with the same quiet ease and confidence as always. Never bothering with the ridiculous dick-measuring contests the other Alphas tended to get into, ignoring the squabbling like he was above it all. God, it got on Scout’s nerves. He’d show him.

This was one of his more harebrained ideas, to be honest. He didn’t tend to, uh, “take care of himself” on base anymore after a firm complaint about how the Omega scent spreading through the base put just about everyone on edge. He tended to just take a ride out to some boulder landmark a mile or so out from base to handle it, maybe grab something to eat on the way back.

But this time in particular he’d had the whole mood of it ruined by how goddamn hot it was, and one too many cars driving by, and finally the fact that at one point he blinked his eyes open and noticed a big fuckoff spider on the windshield crawling steadily towards him.

So he’d given up and resigned himself to being frustrated and out of sorts all day, but then on the drive back in he’d seen the glint of the barrel of a rifle in the watchtower and gotten an idea.

It wasn’t as bad as in a closed room, but he knew he still would have to take a shower and change his clothes if he wanted to seem at all presentable, he knew his smell was probably strong, heady.

He climbed the ladder with the widest smirk he could ever recall having, feeling just a little bit giddy.

“Hey, Snipes,” Scout greeted once he was up. Sniper didn’t even turn to look at him, raising a hand in a careless wave before returning it to his gun. A pause. “What’s up?”

A nothing sort of hum, and silence again,

“...What’re you doin’ up here?” Scout asked more outright, hands shoved in his pockets, still grinning.

“Watch duty,” Sniper replied dryly. “Soldier seems to think we need to. Only way to get him to pipe down is to do a shift every now and then and come up with nothing.”

“Uh huh.” Scout took a few more steps forward. “Must be wicked boring.”

Another hum that didn’t say much of anything. Scout rolled his eyes, moving forward further after a second.

“Might be nice to, y’know, have something to do,” he said, tone suggestive.

Another hum. He resisted the urge to grit his teeth, moving to lean just to one side of Sniper.

“...Like, this just seems wicked boring is all,” Scout shrugged.

An exhale from Sniper. “Scout, go get your kicks somewhere else, awright? I’m not in the mood for your—“

He stopped talking. Inhaled, exhaled. His brows were furrowed. Scout watched him sniff once, twice, casting off to one side, then finally he looked at Scout, visibly shocked.

He saw Sniper’s throat bob with a swallow. He tried to keep his smile in check.

“Not in the mood for my what?” he prompted.

“Really?” Sniper asked, tone not as firm as Scout had come to expect. “This is your idea of how to get a rise out of me? This?”

“What do you mean?” Scout asked faux-innocently. “I’m just standin’ here. What, you want me to leave?”

Sniper was staring at him. His mouth was a hard line. “This isn’t going to work,” Sniper said, voice flat.

“You’re gonna have to be more specific, I dunno what you’re talkin’ about,” Scout replied easily.

“This stunt of yours. If you think it’s that easy to get me jealous, you’ve got another thing coming.”

A pause, then Scout’s eyebrows furrowed. He’d been trying to make Sniper a lot of things, but jealous wasn’t really one of them. “Wait, what?”

“No, I get it, awright, you have no idea what I’m talking about,” Sniper scoffed sarcastically, glaring back down his scope. “Just bugger off already, mate, I’ve got work to do. And even nonsense work is better than any of the buggery you decide to throw at me.”

“No, wait, I’m being serious here, why the fuck would you be jealous?” Scout demanded.

Sniper exhaled hard enough to almost qualify as a sigh. “You just want to rile me up with this and the other flirting nonsense,” he mumbled. “You try to get me hot and bothered and upset, knowing full well you won’t go through with it, then you run off to work it out of your system with your Alpha in town and probably laugh it up the whole way there.”

A beat. “My what?”

“Your ‘secret boyfriend’, in town,” Sniper drawled, making air quotes. “The one you got once the blokes got on your case about stinking up the whole bloody base twice a week.”

Scout blinked. “Wh... what? I’m not taken, man. What the fuck are you talkin’ about?”

Sniper turned his head to glare at him. “Mate, you want me to believe you’re not bonded when you head off base on the weekly for hours at a time and hog the only phone on base all the time?”

Scout pulled down the collar of his shirt. “Uh, yeah. You see a mark here? I head off base to get fast food and I call home to my brothers and Ma. I don’t have some civvie guy. You’d fuckin’ smell the guy, wouldn’t you?”

Sniper’s eyebrows were furrowed again. “Can’t ever smell much except the seven other blokes we work with and the nine we kill for a living, to be honest,” he mumbled.

“Yeah, well, no. I’ve been single since before I worked here. Whole fuckin’ time.”

“No partner? Not even a casual type?” Sniper asked, eyes narrowing.

“No, not even a one-off kinda situation, not for like, months.”

Sniper stared at him. And this entire conversation was stupid as all hell, but on the other hand, Sniper was staring at him, and something about the slope of his shoulders told Scout that he was at least a little bit upset, and that made Scout’s pulse pound, blood heat, face flush.

“Then why do you keep—“ Sniper started to ask, and cut himself off. “You...”

Sniper stared at him for a long few moments. Rose to his feet. His rifle clattered just a bit as he set it down against the wall. For some reason, it made Scout’s heart skip a beat.

“This whole bloody time you’ve just been trying to get a rise out of me,” Sniper said, not a question, a statement of fact.

Scout swallowed hard, nodded, paused. “I mean, yeah, basically,” he agreed. “Uh. Yeah I dunno I just, I figured...”

How was it that he suddenly couldn’t seem to make his brain and mouth work at the same speed? Maybe it had something to do with the fact that Sniper was a good bit taller than him, and his voice had gotten awfully low for a second there.

He tried again. “It was just that I thought you’d—“

“Thought I’d what?” Sniper asked, voice hard, and it made Scout shiver, then a moment later he finally caught the slightest amount of Sniper’s scent—

And it was just that usually it was buried under everything else, everyone else on the team and the other team and gunsmoke and blood and heat and dust, and now he could finally smell it clearly enough to pick out that Sniper was—

Pissed off was a word he could use. But underneath that there was something heady, and it made him feel almost dizzy.

“Thought you’d figure it out sooner,” Scout said quietly, and wished his voice wasn’t so squeaky.

The sound of boots thunking hard against wood as Sniper moved to close the distance between them.

Scout backed up on instinct, a flare of intimidation crossing his nervous system like a gust of wind, and in a moment he was boxed into the corner of the watchtower, and the smell of anger and something else was so strong now it made his whole head spin.

And Sniper leaned in and down, nosed in against his neck, and he breathed in long and deep, exhaled slowly. Scratched stubble against Scout’s jaw as he tilted his head back up to align his mouth with Scout’s ear, and it made Scout jerk, hands snaring in the front of Sniper’s shirt. His pulse was pounding hard, and he knew it had to be obvious how much of a mess he was.

“Would you rather we make our way back to the base or my camper before I rip you apart,” he asked, voice low and steady, “or should I just fuck you here?”

“Here,” was what Scout tried to say, but the first few attempts came out as whines, and finally he gave up and moved to latch onto Sniper’s neck, starting to fight with the buttons of the other man’s shirt.

Sniper’s hands gripped him around the waist, hefting him enough to lift and bodily pin him against the wall with a curse that sounded like it was halfway to a snarl. Scout helped to support his own weight with legs around his hips, distracted from his half-frantic efforts to get Sniper naked by hands groping their way up his thighs and a hum of approval against the side of his head, breath hot on his cheek.

And then Sniper was kissing him, hard, leaving no room for breath or hesitation, demanding access to his mouth rather than asking for it, and this intensity was just so new that it made Scout’s pulse hammer. And Scout’s hands faltered, from trying to get Sniper’s shirt off to clinging at it helplessly, to trying to inhale enough to make any kind of sound that would let Sniper know just how good this all felt, and it very much didn’t work.

A hand at his belt, yanking it open hard enough to make Scout almost wince, and then similar rough motions between them before Scout was bodily shifted in such a way that Sniper ground forward hard against him, echoing Scout’s pleased groan.

“Fuck,” Scout managed in the centimeter of space between them, only for it to warp into a muffled moan as Sniper claimed his mouth again, one hand sliding down the back of Scout’s pants and gripping one cheek in his hand, humming appreciatively.

Then his hand shifted, trailing down further, two fingertips teasing between his cheeks like a promise. “You’re a bloody mess,” Sniper rumbled against the corner of his mouth, and it made Scout flush up to his ears, because god damn it, but he was right. He was probably practically soaking through his briefs. And he went to complain, to say well, if he would get the hell on with it, but Sniper rolled his hips forward again and his hand moved further down and all at once his index finger slid up to the second knuckle all in one go and it made him jolt, keen, head falling back to thunk against the wall. “Loud, too. Don’t know what else I expected from you.”

Then there was another finger teasing at him, making his breath stutter, making his eyes flutter shut, and immediately following that, a growl that rumbled through him and shook him like an earthquake.

“Look at me,” Sniper demanded, and he did, couldn’t help it, and there was fire there behind Sniper’s gaze, something furious and possessive and fucking hot. It simmered down a few notches as Scout tried his damndest to rock forward against him, making more pleased little noises. “I don’t have a rubber on me.”

“I’m on suppressants,” Scout said, “just, c’mon. Quit teasin’.”

“Needy thing,” Sniper murmured, and his teeth—ever-so-slightly sharp, enough that Scout had noticed it—scraped just so against the sensitive skin of his neck below his jaw, down further until Scout practically whimpered. “Bet you’d practically beg if I asked you to.”

“Don’t you make me,” Scout warned, and wished he could’ve said it without his voice wavering, and felt heat flare through him as Sniper just chuckled, and his hands withdrew enough to heft Scout bodily.

And then he was on his back on the floor, and Sniper was at his neck, pulling him free of his pants and gripping briefly at the bulge at the front of his briefs, making him jolt and gasp. And he wasn’t even free of his damn socks and shoes as he kicked off his pants and moved to wrap his legs around Sniper, pulling him down closer, closer still, breath coming uneven through parted lips. And Sniper had to position teeth over his windpipe like a threat to make him pull back, at least enough for Sniper to get his own pants down, and then Scout was back again, trying to hook Sniper back in, get more, still more. Anything.

“I’m ready, c’mon,” Scout urged, and would be ashamed later of how whiny he sounded, because in the meantime he was overwhelmed with sensation at the feeling of Sniper teasing at him with subtle rolls of his hips, not quite enough force to slip in, just enough to make him want it. And then when he did push in, Scout had to bite his lip to quiet the moan that tried to tear free of his chest, had to close his eyes against the onset of sensation as he tried to sort out everything enough to be coherent.

“Good,” Sniper praised lowly, and continued to roll his hips just so, being such a fucking tease that it was kind of driving him insane but at the same time this felt too good to stop for even just a second.

And even as he rolled into something like proper motion, it made Scout keen, squeezing his eyes shut, because god damn it, he could still tell Sniper was holding back. He had a grip behind Scout’s knees, pushing them up towards his chest, and his expression was screwed up in concentration, and it felt so good but it wasn’t what he wanted, he wanted harder and faster, he wanted Sniper to tear into him already.

And he squirmed against Sniper’s hands, voice fraught with groans and choked words, and Sniper smirked down at him. “Impatient,” he chided breathlessly, and Scout arched and gasped against a series of much harder thrusts only to practically whimper at Sniper slowing back down again a moment later. And that was when Scout realized he really was trying to make Scout beg.

And like hell he would.

Instead, he drew Sniper down and in with a kiss, with gentle nips just below the jaw, only to hook an arm up over his neck and roll him bodily to one side with the strength all that running and jumping ended up giving him.

And he only took a second to appreciate the view of Sniper laid out beneath him looking rumbled and a little dizzied before he planted his hands on Sniper’s chest to pin him in place and started to ride him like he was absolutely made for it.

It took a bit for Sniper to get his head together enough to start rolling up in time, groaning out praise and running appreciative hands up Scout’s thighs. And Scout very much enjoyed the visual of Sniper’s head rolling back when he sank as far as he could go and just rocked slightly, sighing with pleasure at the feeling of it.

“This is my show now,” he panted down at Sniper, feeling a thrill all the way up his spine at the idea of having him laid out like this so easily. “I’m in charge.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” Sniper teased just as breathlessly, smirking again, and Scout scowled, determined to fuck that smug look off his face.

But he was also getting close, and the need to save his pride and the need to finish were both crowding into the forefront of his mind and grappling for his attention, and Sniper slid one hand to start pumping at him like he meant it and the other to rake nails down his thighs and actually he was starting to get worried that he wasn’t going to last like this.

And it was a haze, a blur, the rush of blood in his ears and pleasure up and down his back and his own hard breathing, his own uncontrollable stammering, saying c’mon, c’mon, just fucking knot him already c’mon—

And then oh, fuck, did he. Sniper rolled his hips up hard, took hold of Scout’s waist in a bruising grip and yanked, and then he was being knotted and filled up and he’d find the energy to be embarrassed later about the half-yelp half-whimper that tore free of his throat at the feeling of it, and he came hard into Sniper’s hand.

And he teetered but managed to catch himself before he fell over, just barely managing to keep himself propped up in the wake of it, fucked practically out of his mind and left dizzy in the wake of it. Eventually Sniper managed to coax him into relaxing forward, head pillowed on his chest, both of them just breathing heavily and trying to pull themselves together.

He saw Sniper fumbling out of the corner of his eye to pick up Scout’s shirt from where it had landed, cleaning off his hand, and he would’ve complained if he had the energy for it but instead he just groaned. Sniper glanced down at him, free hand petting through his hair. “I’ve just made it all the more likely that you‘ll waste my time trying to get a rise out of me, haven’t I?” he mumbled, sounding slightly annoyed.

“Rise, no,” Scout murmured back, managing a little wink. “Ride, absolutely.”

And little did Sniper know that the slap on the arm he got for his joke would be counted as a win for Scout, too.

#//teasing #//powerplay #//abo #//sniperscout #//au

35 notes · View notes

phobiadeficient · 3 years

Note

Sniper after acquiring a French-English dictionary: :)

yeah this is where we’re at

(warnings for the fact that scout really thought he was gonna get away with just never telling sniper what words translate to and also potentially bad french)

“Spy, do you happen to have a translation dictionary?” Sniper asked, pausing as he passed by the open door to Spy’s smoking room. His eyebrows were furrowed just slightly, and his shoulders slouched.

“To translate unclear requests into something human beings say? Unfortunately, no. It would come in handy at the moment,” Spy replied without looking up from his work dusting off some of the picture frames at the far wall.

“I need a French-English one. Your son’s being... frustrating,” he clarified after a moment. “He keeps switching over into French to say things to me, then not bothering to tell me what he said and refusing to tell me what it means.”

“Simple solution: stop talking to my son,” Spy chimed pleasantly, still not turning around.

Sniper set his jaw. “Look, I can tell he’s upset about something, and maybe if I knew what he was saying more than half the time, I’d be able to figure out what,” he said outright.

Spy was quiet for a few moments. Hung the picture he’d been polishing off back on the wall. Tilted it just so until it was straight. “And what makes you think you’re the one who needs to solve this particular puzzle?” he inquired.

“I’d like to try, at least,” Sniper mumbled, shrugging, glancing off to one side.

A hum, then a considerable pause, then Spy was moving to the next picture frame, tilting a few books out of place on his bookshelf on the way. “I’d like them back in one piece by this time tomorrow, if I’m not in here then leave them on my desk,” he said, tone crisp, and Sniper hurried to take the books before he changed his mind.

And it would help if the French had any common sense about how consonants and vowels strung together, he needed to glance through at least two of their indexes before he even had a concept of what any of the words would sort of somewhat sound like, and then he was fighting with the reference on sentence structure for some time until he gave in and figured he’d have better luck just flipping through to find the words he needed.

‘Tu’ was ‘you’, apparently, which made sense. ‘Je veux’ was ‘I want’, which also made sense, that was one that he heard a good amount of. ‘Bien’ was ‘good’. And that was all he could learn from a few of the books without scanning the pages individually.

It took him an hour total to become frustrated enough to think about asking for help from one of the other more book-smart mercenaries, but he quickly abandoned the idea. He was fairly sure Scout was lying when he said what the phrases meant, but on the off chance that it was true, he didn’t want to air out their more private activities to the entire goddamn team.

He ended up scanning through the singular English-to-French dictionary he’d been given, deciding to just go down the list to try to memorize enough to at least call Scout out when he next lied.

‘Stop’ was ‘arrêtez’, or some variation of it. ‘My mouth’ was ‘mon bouche’, ‘my hair’ was ‘mon cheveux’, ‘my face’ was ‘mon visage’, all of which were phrases he did actually faintly remember hearing at some point, but not nearly as often as Scout claimed to say them.

He ended up finding ‘J’adore’, which was apparently the beginning of the sentence. It meant ‘I love’, which made Sniper blink, and he realized all at once that Scout had really just been downplaying whatever it was that he was saying, because never once had he repeated that particular part of the phrase in English. At most, he simplified it down to him wanting something, or a few things.

And then he looked down at the line below that, and saw ‘Je t’aime’, and saw what that meant, and his heart nearly stopped.

He’d said that phrase before. Often, several times, so many several times, always so quietly, often not able to look him in the eye.

‘I love you’, over and over, and he never knew. Never.

And he didn’t even have time to figure out what to do with that, either, because he rolled the phrase over in his head again and again as he set the books away in a bag to bring with him to base the next day when he went in for breakfast, and he’d only just turned on the kettle to make himself some coffee and calm down when there was a knock at the door, and of course it was Scout (it was always Scout), and of course he let him in (because Scout knew how to pick locks and would get in either way), and of course they ended up tangled up with each other, Scout trailing his lips up the arch of Sniper’s neck and mouthing there with purpose.

And then Scout was laid out below him in the dim light of evening, eyes half-lidded and face flushed and his lips parted around panting and gasping breaths like every pin-up Sniper had ever been fond of rolled into something new and real that made his chest ache. And despite Scout’s fingernails against his back and the way he choked out pleads for harder and more, to bite him, to play rough, this time he didn’t listen. This time he kept his hips rolling slow and steady, this time he grit his teeth and pulled his self-control together enough to draw this out and stay more gentle than he almost ever was.

And it was when he was mouthing at Scout’s chest absently, head spinning and breath coming hard, that Scout’s constant yet incoherent murmuring solidified into a phrase he knew.

“Je t’aime, je t’aime...” Scout practically whimpered, voice catching, steady like a mantra, and it made Sniper swear hard. “Je t’aime, fuck, I’m so fucking close—“

And then Scout spilled all over his own and Sniper’s stomach, fingernails digging in hard enough to hurt, and then they were releasing, and then Sniper was sliding out to finish himself off in hard, quick strokes.

And then Scout was drawing him back up, ignoring the mess, mouthing at his neck again and humming a noise of contentment, and he said it again. “Je t’aime,” he half-whispered, tone teasing, and Sniper knew the script by then, knew he was meant to ask what that meant, knew he was supposed to nod and hum thoughtfully at whatever clearly incorrect and very joking answer Scout gave, and then he was supposed to kiss Scout for as long as both of them could stay awake and not complain when Scout woke up not long after that and got up and got dressed to leave.

Instead, he quietly asked “You do?”, and Scout slowly pulled back to look at him with furrowed eyebrows.

“I do... what?” he mumbled, blinking.

“You love me?” Sniper asked.

Silence. After about five seconds of that complete silence, Scout moved to get up.

Another second or two for Sniper to realize what he was doing. “Scout?” he asked, confused.

With efficiency, he watched Scout pull on his briefs and pants where they’d been abandoned next to the bed. He then started wrestling with his shirt, visibly trying to yank it on quickly.

“Scout, don’t,” Sniper tried, words a jumble in his mind, “you don’t—“

“Shuttup,” Scout all but spat through gritted teeth, finally getting his shirt on over his head and starting to shove his feet into his shoes.

“Scout,” he tried again, but that was when he gave up and just picked the shoes up with a hard sigh, storming out of the camper and slamming the door of it behind him.

An hour later Sniper took the stack of books with him back to base, hoping to drop them off so he could maybe try to get some sleep, already seeing himself sitting up every twenty minutes to flip back through to look at that page again, look at that phrase again, just to check to make sure he knew what it meant. And frankly he couldn’t afford to be up all night dealing with this, he had work in the morning and needed to be alert, so better to hand them in and get some rest and deal with it in the morning—assuming he could find Scout, at least.

And he knocked on the door to the smoking room, pushed it open at the “yes?” that came from within, and peered around it to catch sight of Spy sitting in the far chair with a glass of some kind of whiskey, eyebrows raised at him.

“Came by to return these,” he mumbled, ducking in and avoiding eye contact, making his way over to the desk across the room. “I ‘ppreciate you lending them to me, but I’ve... I don’t need them now.”

“Oh?” Spy asked in one of those odd tones that made it clear he was probably judging you, and Sniper managed not to flinch at it.

“I know it’s late, I’ll... I’ll just leave them and go,” he said, putting the books on the desk and turning around, shooting a glance at Spy and finally catching that his expression was slightly different than the sarcastic surprise he usually went with, eyebrows just a bit too high, eyes just a touch too wide. Then he caught the way Spy glanced off towards the other armchair, then finally caught sight of Scout curled up in it, knees close to his chest, not quite visible from the door, wearing a similar expression to Spy.

Well, not exactly. His eyes were a little bit wider, and reddened, and his hair was mussed and damp like he’d just taken a shower, and he was in a pair of pajamas Sniper hadn’t ever seen—neither of them generally bothered getting into pajamas before they turned in for the night, usually just getting dressed and heading back to the place they were meant to be sleeping. They looked soft.

Spy was the one to break the silence and stillness over the room, eyebrows raising an increment further as he stood and moved to the door, handing Scout what was left of his own drink on the way out. The two of them had a short, whispered argument in what sounded like Spanish—or rather Scout had an argument and Spy just hummed out a phrase or two before getting to the door and shutting it behind him. “Dad,” he said with some amount of feeling, but then it was closed.

Silence again. Scout looked at Sniper. Sniper looked at Scout. Scout chugged what was left of Spy’s drink and set it to one side, then took another hard gulp of his own, glaring down and off to one side.

“Why’d you run?” Sniper asked simply, the words coming easily now that he’d had an hour to mull them over.

Scout took another gulp of his glass. Set his jaw. Paused. “That’s what I do,” he finally said, voice sharp, like it should’ve been obvious, like it was a dumb question. “I run. I leave. I get the fuck outta places before they mess me up. Or... as soon as I figure out they’re gonna mess me up.”

“You think I’ll do that?” Sniper asked quietly.

“Fuck, I dunno, probably,” Scout spat, glaring at the floor.

“Why?”

“Well—I mean, you didn’t say it back,” Scout said, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. He took another gulp from his glass. “And it’s... I dunno, maybe that’s not fair. I’m not gonna make you say it if you aren’t ready.”

“Seems like you aren’t, neither,” Sniper pointed out.

Scout sighed again, more at himself than anything else. “Can we pretend this never happened?” he asked, and he seemed so small in that moment, curled up in that armchair with that little glass, eyes red and hair messy.

“I don’t know,” Sniper admitted, inhaled, exhaled. “But we can try.”

Scout paused, looked at his glass with maybe slightly more interest than was warranted. “I won’t say it again,” he tried. “I... I dunno. I dunno what I was thinkin’.”

A pause. “I wanted... to ask if you meant it,” Sniper said slowly, and saw Scout’s jaw tighten. “But that wouldn’t very well be ‘pretending it never happened’, would it?”

“Nah, it wouldn’t,” Scout agreed, and chugged the last of his drink. He turned the glass around in his hand. “Uh.”

“...Are we awright, then? Squared away?” Sniper asked.

“Yeah. Yeah, totally. For sure,” Scout agreed, nodding absently.

“Aces.” Sniper moved to leave, swerving just slightly out of his way to pass by Scout, leaning and pressing a kiss to his temple briefly. “See you.”

“Yeah. Yeah, see you.”

He paused a short way down the hallway, shifted on his feet. “Spy?” he asked the air.

“Oui?” a patch of nothing just to one side asked in reply.

“Thanks,” he said, and kept walking, and would never know how hard Spy rolled his eyes at the both of them and their young love theatrics.

#//sniperscout #//tenderness #//au

35 notes · View notes

phobiadeficient · 3 years

Text

[ID: Anonymous said: i dont know if this is the right blog for this but Jeremy in the dadspy au talking dirty in french or the rest of the languages for sniper or lavishing him in praises in other languages because hes too ashamed to say it in a way sniper understands]]

yeah wrong blog, i received this ask on my main rather than my adult content account, no biggie tho dude here you go

“I’m starting to think that this job might just be worth it,” Scout murmured, words wrapped up in a soft tone and language he knew Sniper didn’t understand as he laid a series of kisses up the man’s neck, their combined breath rapidly heating the camper, not that either cared. “If it means I get to keep doing this with you, at least.”

“What?” Sniper asked, blinking up at him, visibly perplexed.

“I said to quit fuckin’ around already and take your goddamn pants off,” Scout said, tone a bit shorter now, and Sniper moved to comply without protest. “That’s more like it.”

On one hand, this felt... dishonest. In a roundabout sort of way. And he was a lot of things, but he really didn’t like to be dishonest with people he was trying to have a relationship with. He’d always made a point to level with people, to tell them on the second date (assuming there was one) that he probably wasn’t going to be in town for long, and probably wouldn’t be able to come visit for a long time, and hell, that it might be a bad idea for them to get involved with him in the first place. Cards on the table.

The problem was, dishonesty felt bad, but the idea of being honest, of telling Sniper everything to his face and in a language he understood, it... scared him way worse.

So, when he mumbled about how good Sniper looked, about how badly he wanted him, about how much he cared about him, about how he didn’t ever want to leave, wished he could just stay there by his side—sex or no sex, hell, he’d be happy curled up against his side for the rest of time—it was always in one of the many languages he’d picked up. Sometimes a few different ones.

“Do you have to be so perfect all the time?” Scout sighed, shifting down between Sniper’s legs to take the man’s dick in his hand, stroking it and lying a kiss to the shaft.

“What’s that mean?” Sniper asked, already sounding dizzied.

“I asked you to fuck my mouth,” Scout replied snappishly, and took Sniper between his lips, enjoyed the punched-out noise he made, hummed with satisfaction as Sniper’s rough fingers settled into his hair.

And it became clear quickly that Sniper intended to be gentle with this, more guiding his speed and depth than properly fucking his mouth, hips just barely rolling with the motion, and it made Scout ache, both his heart and where he was getting uncomfortably hard.

He pulled back, and Sniper let him up without protest, especially since Scout took over with his hand once his mouth was free.

“If you keep treating me this nice, I’m going to fall in love with you,” he warned, voice a purr, breath unsteady.

“What?”

“I said stop holding back, make it rough, come on,” Scout urged, and earned a loose nod, and this time Sniper’s hand was tighter, movements more firm, until he was properly rolling up into Scout’s mouth in time with each bob and groaning in that gravelly tone that drove Scout so insane.

“Gorgeous,” Sniper panted out, eyes dark with arousal, and it made Scout’s eyelids flutter shut, made his breath catch. “Gorgeous thing, gorgeous like this. Bet you’d be even more gorgeous riding me, wouldn’t you? Would you like that?”

His groan of assent didn’t need translation, and he was off of Sniper’s cock seconds later, reaching back to test himself as Sniper hurriedly fished for the bottle of lube among the sheets. Sniper had just fucked him the night before, he wouldn’t need any real prep, especially since Sniper insisted on taking things so damn slowly all the time.

“God, I can’t get enough of you,” Scout breathed, eyes hazy with arousal as Sniper lined up, guided him down. “Mmm! Fuck, that’s good.”

“Easy, now,” Sniper warned, breathless though it was. “Don’t rush.”

“You worry too much over some idiot you barely know,”, he mumbled, and shifted. “I’ve got this, take it easy.”

“Is the French necessary?” Sniper teased, and grunted as Scout finally settled that last inch.

“I think it turns you on,” Scout accused, teasing right back.

“It’s more your tone than the language,” Sniper replied. “Can’t understand a damn word you’re saying, but the tone is—shit—!”

He was cut off by a bark of pleasure as Scout abruptly rolled his hips just right, sending him to toss his head back, teeth gritted against further noises. Scout’s breath was uneven.

“Fuck, I know, I know you don’t know what any of this means,” Scout panted, continuing the rhythm, trying to keep his voice even. “And you can’t understand me, and this feels so good—so fuckin’ good, babe—but it’s gonna kill me, I’m gonna lose my mind.”

Sniper swore hard, hands tightening around Scout’s hips, rolling up into the motions, keeping up with Scout’s rhythm, and he couldn’t hold out for long before he was running his mouth again.

“And I want you, I love this, I love this so much, I just want more, harder—please, fuck, harder—“ he pleaded, and Sniper obliged, increasing the force until their skin slapped together. “—please, please, fuck, I love what you do to me, never stop—”

“I know what ‘S'il te plait’ means,” Sniper teased breathlessly, and Scout practically sobbed out a sound of pleasure as Sniper lurched up and hooked Scout down in one motion, starting in on marking up his neck and chest with lips and teeth working in tandem, and Scout felt him smirk at the way his voice rose into a moan with it. “God, you’re gorgeous when you beg.”

“I love when you call me that, I love the things you say to me, I love you, I love you—” Scout choked, and cried out as Sniper spat into his palm and started to stroke him. “Fuck, faster, more, more, I love you—”

And when he spilled over Sniper’s hand and Sniper’s motions stuttered out beneath him, his mantra finally trailed off into nothing, into panting. Sniper’s fingers were carding through his hair, slow, methodical, soft, soothing. It soothed the racing in his heart, coaxed his eyelids heavy and low. In reply all he could do was smear a kiss just below Sniper’s ear.

“What does ‘j’adore’ mean?” Sniper asked quietly, and Scout managed not to bristle.

“I was asking for more, and harder,” he lied.

“Thought more was ‘encore’.”

“Uh. Different more,” he lied.

“You said it a lot, love.”

“I wanted it a lot,” he partially lied, and buried his face in against Sniper’s neck. “What is this, twenty questions?”

A long pause, his hand carding through Scout’s hair some more. “You’re just shaking, is all. S’pose I just get worried.”

He realized that he was, in fact, shaking. “I’m good, seriously,” he lied. “Don’t worry about it. Let’s just sleep, okay?”

Another pause. “Sure, love. Awright,” he said, and he meant something by that, but Scout wasn’t entirely sure what.

#//sniperscout #//tenderness #//begging #//au

39 notes · View notes

phobiadeficient · 3 years

Note

Fem!Sniper totally uses a strap on with M!Scout and nobody can convince me otherwise.

you’re damn fuckin right she does. continuation of the last fem!sniper prompt

“F-fuckin’, shit, fuck—“ Scout half-whispered, half-mumbled into the crook of his own arm.

“It’s good?” Sniper asked, knowingly, probably smirking, and that just made him swear some more.

He’d known he was probably found out around the third time he’d slipped up and used a more ambiguous term to refer to his past partners, and that he was almost definitely found out when Sniper had made an idle joke in bed when he was teasing at her with his fingers about it being “his turn next”. Then at last she’d finally interrupted him in the middle of a story to clarify that the guy he was talking about was a former boyfriend, and there had been the conversation—

—and it had... actually gone super well. Hell, she admitted that she herself wasn’t particularly concerned about what team she was batting or swinging for at any particular moment, it was just that she’d never really had any girl hit on her that hard and so she’d never gotten particularly far with anyone but men. And he admitted that most of his action after high school had been with guys too, and she’d crooked an eyebrow and asked if he cared to share any details—

And he really should’ve known that admitting that he didn’t usually top would get him into this kind of situation, but somehow it didn’t occur to him until halfway through a blowjob she was sinking a finger in knuckle-deep.

Of course it would escalate—he shouldn’t have been surprised that she’d want to test those waters further. He just didn’t expect it to escalate within the week, and to this, no less.

But unexpected and unwelcome were two very different adjectives.

She had the courtesy to stop moving for a minute once her hips made contact with the back of his thighs and his ass, letting him get used to the feeling of being full after what he was starting to figure out was far too long. The toy she’d picked out didn’t have the same give of a real dick—or the warmth, which wasn’t something he’d figured he would need to worry about, but now this was happening and it was way more distracting than he thought it would be.

“Good?” she asked again, smoothing hands down his back to ground him.

“Mhm,” he ground out into the sheets. “Fuck. Go ahead.”

The first pump of her hips was testing, exploratory, and made him gasp hard. The second was similarly hesitant, and his gasp was shakier. The third was firm, confident, and wrung a noise of pleasure out of him, conducted electricity up his spine.

“Glad to hear you’re even noisier in bed when you’re on the receiving end,” Sniper teased without missing a beat, her voice low and quiet and pleased, and it made him shiver all the more. He went to reply, but it just rose up into another embarrassing noise as she thrust again, a wonderful push-and-pull that had him curling his fists into more of the bedsheets and trying to stifle himself. “Lovely.”

He panted out a complaint over it as best he could, but he knew he probably didn’t sound particularly convincing.

And then she was starting in on a slow, firm rhythm that threatened to shake him apart, made his thighs quake, made his mouth drop open around hard breathing and a series of moans he couldn’t bite off in time.

And he had a terrible memory for time passing in the first place, let alone when he was... distracted, like this, but he could tell enough to know that it was embarrasing how quickly the coil of tension was tightening to the breaking point. “Mmmh—fuck, slow down, it’s—mmh! Fuck, at least touch me, at least—“

She didn’t slow down, but she did touch him, hard strokes in double-time to her thrusts, and he all but wailed as he tipped over the edge, teeth clenched through the apex just because if he actually screamed he’d never hear the end of it.

“Lovely,” Sniper said again from somewhere far away, sounding amused.

“Sorry,” he managed to choke, face surely bright red, arms nearly too weak to stay on his elbows and knees now. “Fuck. Jesus, you’re good at that.”

“Think you’ve got another go in you?” she asked, slowly pulling out so as not to hurt him. “You liked the first time around so much, and I’ll be honest, being fucked is a good look on you, mate.”

“Yeah. No. Maybe. I dunno, you kinda scrambled me here, in case you didn’t notice,” he said a little defensively, but he could only muster up the energy to be so grumpy when he’d just been fucked so well.

“Hmm. You can decide once you’ve gotten me off,” she said, and yeah, she was teasing him.

“Hell yeah,” he murmured into the sheets, and turned over to see if he couldn’t wreck her as much as she’d just wrecked him.

#//sniperscout #//fem!characters #just doin these in any old fuckin order at this point

22 notes · View notes

phobiadeficient · 4 years

Note

If you wouldn't mind, could you do a scout x fem sniper? I've seen stories of both females or femscout, but not very often does fem snipes get any love.

welcome to “this request got out of hand and i basically just wrote 5k words of scout tf2 being a goddamn simp”

(no warnings)

How the fuck was it that Scout kept ending up head over heels for women who both could and would kill him without any hesitation? Hell, maybe he had a type of something. Who knows?

And he’d kind of done a joke about it, when he heard there was a girl on the team, right? Been all ‘hey, hell yeah, at least boredom won’t be an issue!’, right? And then he’d gone to meet the team and for a minute he’d figured it was the Pyro since he didn’t exactly see a lady and the flamesuit didn’t give out much information. But then he’d seen the figure sitting off to one side facing away from him with the wide-brimmed hat pulled down low and the big shooter’s glasses and the crossed arms and the braid that just barely reached her back and he pieced together some stuff. So he walked over and introduced himself with a handshake and all because he was trying to be polite to everyone up front, good first impression and all, and apparently then he made a mistake, because he called her ‘Miss’.

And then suddenly that handshake turned into his wrist being bent in completely the wrong direction, and her standing up and holy shit she was tall and her voice was way deeper than he’d expected as she calmly informed him that if he called her ‘Miss’ again she would be packing him up in a burlap sack and sending him on a long roll down a short pier, and in fact that her name was Sniper and he could call her that and only that, clear?

So pretty much she was way more intimidating than he would ever be and he was a little annoyed with himself about how hot he found that.

Just his fuckin’ luck, that his nerves got the best of him so bad whenever he really had a thing for a girl, made him act like such an idiot. And he already kind of had his shit wrecked in front of the team once and he wasn’t looking to be turned into the official laughingstock of the group, so he tried his best to leave her alone and steer clear of her before he looked like a complete idiot.

It was just that holy shit she was tall, and every once and a while he would see her in the common area reading a book—like, an actual one—and her voice was kinda gravelly and she could pop a guy’s head from a hundred and fifty feet without even thinking about it and this one time when most of the team was waiting outside the infirmary for Medic to fix them up from battle she fell asleep in the chair across from him and her glasses were all crooked and her hat was lopsided and it was just really really cute—

Okay, so he had a thing for her. The main issue was that he didn’t know what the fuck to do about it.

Because, like—she was so fuckin’ cool. And he hadn’t talked to her much for not wanting to look like an idiot reasons, but he’d gathered that while she wasn’t, like, twelve PhDs or mad doctor kinds of intelligent, she was pretty damn smart. And she wasn’t exactly Doris Day or whatever, but he thought she was pretty in a different sort of way. In a could-kick-his-ass kind of way. And also she had a bunch of freckles, which he was just all about.

But he didn’t have the best track record when it came to cool, smart, attractive women wanting to associate with him. Namely, they just straight up didn’t. Mostly they called him annoying or laughed in his face when he hit on them.

Which you would think would start to hurt less after a while, but boy, would you be wrong.

Then again... hey, his luck had to turn around eventually, right?

That’s what led to him putting on the only shirt with buttons that he owned and a pair of nice-ish pants and strolling all the way out to the camper van she lived in instead of the room they had for her in the base.

He knocked, and for a good ten seconds he didn’t hear anything at all and thought maybe she wasn’t even in and he’d have to do a walk of shame all the way back, but then he heard the sound of movement within and a good ten seconds after that, she opened the door.

She was clearly trying to wind down after work, down to her tank top but still in her boots and shades for some reason, and most notably she was holding that big fuckoff knife she always carried into battle. She stared at him, expression flat.

“Uh,” Scout said, eyeing the knife, thrown entirely off of his game for a second.

She went to shut the door again.

“Aw, c’mon, wait a sec!” he whined in protest, stopping the door with his hand. “I haven’t even said anything yet!”

“You had a look on your face like you were planning to ask me to prom,” she deadpanned, and he flushed.

“Did not!” he protested.

She sighed hard, opening the door again. “Alright, then what’s all this, then?” she asked, gesturing loosely at his outfit with the knife.

“Uh,” he started, and fought hard to kick his brain back into motion, to try to piece back together the script he’d had in his head, but they were already wildly off track. “Uh, I was uh—I was just, y’know, I was wondering, if you’re—are you uh, busy?”

She stared at him. “...Am I busy,” she repeated, and he realized how dumb that sounded. Of course she wasn’t busy. None of them except maybe the eggheads were ever busy.

“I uh I meant did you have—y’know, plans or anything? Tonight?” he tried. She raised an eyebrow. “I mean y’know because I was just kinda wondering if maybe you’d wanna go and uh—and get a drink or somethin’. With me, later. Uh, tonight.”

“Mate, you wanna take another run at that without the stutter?” she asked, voice still flat, but her expression had shifted a little, the slightest quirk to her lip.

He forced himself to take a deep breath, shelving his pride for the moment. “Do you wanna go get drinks with me tonight?” he tried, and forced a hard stop at the end, biting his tongue before he could keep rambling and ruin it.

She looked at him. Moved to lean her shoulder against the door, to cross her arms. He glanced at the knife and back up to her face again. Her expression was hard to read.

“What, at a bar? In town?” she asked, tone a little lighter.

“I mean, yeah, sure, whatever’s cool,” he shrugged. “I’ve—I’ve got a motorcycle. Or, uh, I could borrow Demo’s car maybe, he uh, he’s really cool about lending it to me whenever as long as like, like if I’m heading to get food or something I bring back somethin’ for him, and I gotta pay for gas if it’s a long way or whatever but I figure that’s probably fair since I’m the one usin’ it most of the time anyways, I figure that’s a fair trade-off—“

“Scout,” she cut in, and he shut up. She paused. “Rather not go to a bar, if I’m being honest.”

His shoulders sank. “Oh. Uh, yeah, okay, that’s—that’s fair, I uh I totally get it—“

“But I‘ve got drinks here,” she cut him off again, voice raised a little to be heard over his mumbling, and when he looked up she had an eyebrow raised again. “Swing by ‘round nine or so, yeah?”

“Oh. Oh! Uh, no, yeah, totally!” he agreed quickly.

“In something besides the polo, if you don’t mind,” she deadpanned, head tilting to look at his shirt pointedly. “Aren’t exactly a fancy establishment.”

“Sure, okay,” he nodded, and shuffled on his feet for a second before taking the cue and starting to head off back towards base. “Uh, see you then!”

“Yeah, yeah,” she murmured. A pause. “And if you bring flowers I’m locking the door on you!”

“Hah, sure!” he laughed, and waved, and she went back inside.

Two hours later, a few minutes after nine, he’d changed into something more closely resembling his usual outfit, and noted that Sniper had also changed, just a little, putting on a different shirt he’d never seen her in. He realized belatedly that he’d never actually seen her out of the clothes that made up her uniform. It was a nice shirt. He tried extremely hard not to stare at her chest. He mostly succeeded.

And he was proud to say that if nothing else, he could at least hold his alcohol as well as she could. Most of the guys made fun of him and said he was probably a total lightweight, but he wasn’t actually that bad, mostly on account of eating full meals and getting a lot of exercise. She drank a brand of beer he didn’t know shit about, and it wasn’t the worst he’d ever had. And they talked a bunch, about work mostly, but he went on a bunch of tangents in the middle about other stuff, music and movies and home and stories about all his brothers.

Luckily for him, she was apparently pretty patient, and didn’t get annoyed with him and tell him to leave. Mostly she just sat and listened, nodded along occasionally, snickered at a joke every now and then (which was a grand slam victory every time). And by the time he looked at the clock and realized it was pretty late and he needed to head back, maybe it was just the buzz of the alcohol, but she seemed more relaxed, her usual deadpan replaced by the slightest little smile. She offhandedly mentioned that she wasn’t busy around the same time next week, and maybe they could hit an actual bar or something that time.

And he was through the fuckin’ moon over that already, then he was standing outside the door and trying to agree and make sure she was serious as best he could, stammering like a dumbass probably but she already knew he was a dumbass so it was fine, but then he wasn’t stammering because she tilted his face up and kissed him full on the mouth for one, two, three seconds before pulling back and saying she’d see him later and shutting the door behind her.

And he was about halfway back to base when his brain turned back on, and only barely managed to talk himself down from sprinting directly into the common room and announcing what had just happened to the entire team because holy shit he was pumped. But no, no way, he had to keep cool about this. He didn’t know the most about Sniper, but he knew enough to figure she probably wouldn’t be psyched about that.

So instead he just chilled out and wrote in the date and time on his calendar with minimal exclamation points and calmed down.

Mostly.

And, well, he knew he had kind of... a thing, about jumping into relationships a little too quickly, about zooming around the bases and then promptly striking out next time he tried to talk to a girl again, about seeming like he wasn’t really taking things seriously so the girls he dated also didn’t commit super hard and then lo and behold they think he’s a two-weekends-wonder and wander back off again and leave him by the wayside unless they get bored and circle back, then rinse and repeat.

He knew it was partly his fault, and if he wanted to get taken seriously he should really slow the hell down, and god damn it he was committed to not completely fucking this one up, if nothing else then because any kind of messy breakup was gonna make the next god knew how long out in the desert a real problem.

So he kept his hands to himself as best he could, relying more on bumping elbows or jostling shoulders so she didn’t get the wrong idea, kept the flirting exclusively verbal, and kind of joking even then.

But also at the end of that actual bar date then she’d kissed him, and kissed him, and kissed him, and she tasted sugary like whatever those technicolor drinks of hers had been called, and she only jokingly complained about how he tasted like tequila, and she smelled like leather and dust and somewhere under that, vanilla—wait, was she wearing perfume? Had she put on perfume for him? Holy shit.

And they were like, right outside the camper, mostly because she’d had just a little bit of trouble standing up and he wanted to make sure she didn’t fall and eat shit on the way back since he was doing just a little bit better, but he had to remind himself over and over, no, no, take it slow, c’mon idiot, don’t ruin this. And so he inched back, kept just a little more distance, and it didn’t take long before Sniper pulled back and glanced him over, from the hands placed at a nice, respectful point on her waist to how he was visibly trying to reorient himself.

“Sorry, mate,” she said, a little quirk of her lip to indicate a smile. “Too much?”

“Uh,” he said, and was cut off as Sniper leaned in and gave him a parting peck on the mouth, followed by a short one to his cheek. “It’s, uh, fine, just, y’know. You’ve had a lot to drink and all and so have I and, y’know, I don’t wanna rush or nothin’—“

“Sweet of you,” Sniper cut in, and that smile was ticking up just a little further. “But it’s alright if you just don’t feel like more than a date, yeah?”

“Uh, yeah,” he said, nodding and then processing what she said a second later. “Uh. I had fun! This was good. Great! Kicked ass!”

“Again soon?” Sniper asked. “Not next weekend, got other business to do, but soon, yeah?”

“Yeah, yeah, totally! Uh, I’ll see you around, uh,” he said, and he had to tip up onto his toes to give her a kiss on the cheek, and then he was bumbling his way through a goodbye.

And then he was in his room jerking off to high heaven, muffled into his hand, mind full of mixed drinks and leather and vanilla and quirked lips and desert heat.

He held himself together for two more outings, once more to a pub and once impromptu in the middle of a Sunday to get tacos from a place Scout liked. And he held himself together almost the whole way through another date in the camper—Sniper made it pretty clear that she liked the privacy of it—even though half of it was spent sitting together on her bed, idly drinking soda and beer and talking about nothing in particular.

But then she was leaning in against his side, a warm weight there, and he couldn’t just not kiss her with her that close, and then he felt her fingertips inching below the collar of his shirt, and it was so damn hot in the camper and he reached for his own shirt and glanced at her with “is this okay?” right on the tip of his tongue but she kissed it right out of him and urged his shirt up and off in a moment.

And before he knew it he was lying on his back and she was half-draped over him, practically pinning him down and kissing him until his head spun and his heart thumped and he hoped to god that she wouldn’t feel that he was getting pretty damn hard already.

“Uh, I-I-I uh I don’t wanna uh, assume nothin’ but uh—“ he stammered out when she leaned back briefly, only to shut directly up when he realized she was taking off her shirt and dropping it off to one side, moving back in to kiss at the place below his chin. “Uhhh but y’know uh I wanted to—to ask, uh, can I—?”

Sniper took hold of his hands where they were lying tangled against the sheets and placed them at her now-bare waist, settling back up to kiss him again, a hand carding into his hair.

“Uh yeah okay,” he mumbled against her lips, and tentatively at first his hands wandered, one sliding up her lower back and feeling out the ridges of her spine and the other hesitating around near her ribcage.

Hesitation, trying to just deal with how wildly unexpectedly good she was at kissing when it got down to it, before his hand trailed up farther, farther.

A pause just as his fingertips reached the edge of her bra. He managed to untangle enough to get a breath in, inhaling to ask a question. “Uh so is it okay if I—?” he started to stammer, then she caught hold of his chin, tilting it up to face her. She had an eyebrow raised at him, expression firm.

“Scout,” she deadpanned, and he shut up. “If you start doing something I don’t like, I’ll bloody well tell you. Unclench, mate. I can handle myself. Stop babying me.”

He gulped, nodded, and reached up to cup at one breast firmly.

“Bloody finally,” she sighed, and sank back in to start kissing a line up his neck.

He felt overheated again, cupping and squeezing and just feeling out her torso, namely what was hidden under firm fabric, fixated and aroused. It wasn’t until his fingers slipped on the cup and he pinched just over where he figured a nipple was that he managed to wring a noise out of her, a soft sound in the back of her throat, and it made his whole body thrum. God. Fuck. God. And she tolerated him playing around for quite a while—patience and all—before getting impatient and tugging his hand around to her back, and seemed pleased that he knew how to handle a bra hook without fumbling. And then he got that burst of confidence, and he was using the arm around her waist to haul her up a bit so he could throw his mouth into the mix.

He talked a pretty big game, he knew that. And he also knew that he did exaggerate a little bit about stuff sometimes. Or a lot. Or made things up.

But he really did actually know what he was doing in bed, honest, even if he usually ended up fucking things up outside of the bedroom often enough to ruin it for himself before he even got there.

All he knew was that Sniper seemed to be caught off guard by both the enthusiasm and his ability to figure out how exactly he could make her feel good, where to kiss and where to suck and overall what he needed to do to get more little noises out of her.

He had his free hand a solid distance down the front of her slacks, sliding with purpose against the front of her underwear and idly admiring the heat of her through the fabric before his brain caught up with him, and then he was pulling back a little. “I, uh, I don’t have—uh anything to uh—“

She hummed, lifting his chin and planting a kiss to the corner of his mouth before leaning over to try to fish through a drawer without needing to untangle from him. Impatience took hold of him fast, made his mouth wander across the expanse of her neck, made her fumble and swear and take just a few extra seconds to pull out a strip of foil squares, tearing one off and dropping it on his chest.

By the time he managed to fumble open the wrapper she’d stripped her slacks off and settled back into place straddling his hips, and he choked on air briefly when she settled back further, weight and heat against where his pants had gotten very tight very fast. She had that quirk to her mouth again. His head was spinning. He reached down to pop the button of his pants, pretty sure he was like, going to die otherwise.

And then condom-kitted fingers were teasing at her, and he watched the way his playing and exploration made her face draw up tight, the way breath puffed out of her unevenly, watched her thighs tremble when his thumb drew soft circles just against the nub hidden just a bit further up between soft folds and fuzz and—

She groaned a plead under her breath just before she teetered over the edge, and it made his hips buck involuntarily, which rocked her and sent her back down much harder than before, and she cried out, thighs going tense, and he felt like he’d touched a live wire watching her jolt through it and back down again, jittery and desperate to move but just barely holding himself back.

She panted hard on the way back down, and some of her hair was sticking to her face with sweat, and she blinked down at him after a second, and her eyebrows furrowed after a few moments.

“...Are you holding your breath?” she asked, eyes narrowing, visibly puzzled.

He exhaled and inhaled and the second he had air back in his system his mouth was running a mile a minute. “Yeah sorry I just y’know I was kinda worried I was gonna start just kinda yakkin’ away there and I didn’t wanna like fuck up my concentration or like throw you off or nothin’ because I kinda do that sometimes and it sucks so I really try my best not to fuck it up like that anymore y’know because uh—“

She rolled her eyes lightly at his shenanigans, moving to stretch briefly, taking a deep, satisfied breath.

“—because y’know heat of the moment stuff I kinda end up just goin’ on and on and on about shit and I don’t just mean in like a dirty talk kinda way even though it’s also that too I just mostly mean like in a sorta just rambling about like—

She reached back over to the strip of foil squares, snapping one off and shifting a short ways further down the bed—not that there was much room, but she managed.

“—like just kinda how gorgeous y—people—uh, girls, I meant girls—!”

She raised an eyebrow at him, but otherwise let him keep babbling, just pulling his pants and briefs a short way down his legs and ripping open the foil square with the help of her teeth.

“—uh y’know just how fuckin’ good-lookin’ girls will be because like holy shit y’know? And it’s just like y’know I’ve gotten like compLAINTS—“

His voice rose up into a yip for a moment as she rolled the condom on in a swift motion and squeezed on the upstroke, and he swallowed hard to get his voice back to slightly less shaky, needing to glance away, face flushing at the way the noise had made Sniper grin.

“—uh like about me talkin’ way too much so I figured just better safe than sorry and I’ll just shut up to begin with unless I’m like makin’ sure everything is totally kosher but also you told me to shut up about that too and I didn’t w-w-woah, hah—“

He trailed off with a wheeze followed closely by a very embarrasing squeak as she started to sink down, and he promptly clamped a hand up over his mouth to prevent further noises and found that an added benefit his own shutting the hell up meant he could hear the way she hummed, her shaky breath, the soft sound that rose up in the back of her throat when she’d finally settled.

She finally took a short breath, hummed again, and looked down at him. Her face was flushed down to her collarbones, and her freckles faded into that flush, and she had that quirk to her mouth again. She took hold of his wrists, pulling his hand away from his mouth and where it tangled in the sheets, and instead set it against her chest, the other to her waist. “None’a that,” she murmured, and he nodded quickly, and then she shifted her legs, settled her weight, and started to move.

It took all Scout had just to keep his hands from shaking as he stroked at her skin in rhythm with her movement, watching her move with appreciative, hungry, slightly-awed eyes. His thumb rubbed circles around one nipple, and it made his breath catch seeing the way she bit her lip to keep quiet, the way her eyelids fell that much further, feeling her internal muscles fluttering.

“Fuckin’ gorgeous,” he breathed, honestly and enthusiastically, and she looked up at him, and the quirk of her lip seemed almost sheepish and so he continued. “So fuckin’ gorgeous, look at you. You’re fuckin’ beautiful.”

Her lip quirked that much further. “No need for the flattery, there,” she breathed back, voice similarly low. “You’ve already in bed with me.”

“Ain’t flattery if it’s true,” he shot back, and squeezed at her breast and made her jolt into a harder motion for a moment. “I’m serious, look at you! I’d sit here and watch this all day if I was allowed, you’re like every painting and sculpture and drawing all rolled up into one, and even then you’re better because those can’t drink me under the goddamn table.”

She huffed a laugh, thrown off her rhythm and falling still for a moment as she grinned down at him as if not entirely sure what to do with him.

“I’m not jokin’!” he insisted, and he was smiling too, even as his breath returned to him. “If I could just sit around with a view like this all the time, it’d totally ruin me. I’d probably sit there until I starved to death and then the last thing I’d ever do was thank you for the fuckin’ privilege.”

“You’re a sap, Scout,” she said, clearly going for a tone of vague disapproval, but she couldn’t quite wipe the smile off of her face.

“Guilty,” he shrugged, and was only a little surprised when she suddenly leaned down to kiss him, and he smoothed hands up her back to hold her there for just a few seconds longer when he thought she was about to pull back away.

“Well,” she murmured, half against his lips, and then sat back up and steadied herself, rolled her shoulders. “Bit refreshing to hear sweet rather than just filth, but either works for me, yeah?”

And she didn’t exactly give him a chance to respond before she was back in motion, so he just nodded again, head falling back briefly.

“God, you feel good,” was all he managed at first, drawing the nail of each thumb down her sides like seams. When that went pretty well, he continued down the outside of her thighs, then back up the inside starting at her knees. “All hot and—and slick—fuck—“

He took hold of her hips and helped support her weight, started rolling his hips along with her rhythm in increasing force until her breath caught alongside every thrust.

“That good, huh?” Sniper asked, and she was grinning again.

“So fuckin’ good,” he agreed, voice dropped, trying hard to keep his head on straight but finding it increasingly difficult.

The room felt sweltering, and the heat alone was making everything spin. That, combined with the heat and weight of another body on top of him—

“Fuck,” he swore again from behind clenched teeth, rhythm faltering as suddenly he felt just a little too close for a moment, and she echoed the sentiment, reaching a hand down between her own thighs, eyebrows all screwed together and thighs trembling. “Wait—“

He brushed her hand aside and found her clit within a moment, rubbing firm circles against her and feeling like the king of the fuckin’ world at the way that made her cry out, rhythm ticking up in speed.

“C’mon,” he urged, and she panted, choked on a moan, and that was it for her, making a series of bitten off noises.

He clenched his teeth and tightened the muscle in his thighs and held on and held on, and only once she was back to limp and out of breath did he slide out and tug himself over the edge. He would’ve been embarrassed about how loud he was as he finished, but it was soothed pretty quickly by the way Sniper settled forward to lay against his side, pressing a brief kiss to his temple and another just below his ear.

“Holy shit,” he breathed in a very unsteady voice, and managed to get his arms to move to lie more comfortably, an arm over her waist. “You’re fuckin’ incredible.”

“Not bad yourself,” Sniper murmured, voice a hum, sounding much more relaxed and much less grumpy than usual.

“Again soon?” he managed, tilting his head towards her.

A hum of affirmation, a pause. “You’re sleeping here, by the way,” she informed him, squeezing with the arm around his chest.

“Hell yeah,” he murmured. “Uh. I wake up kinda early, just so you know.”

She hummed again. “You gonna do the whole nine yards, cook breakfast and all that nonsense?” she mumbled in a deadpan.

“Well usually it’s ‘cuz I go for a run in the morning,” he explained, “but sure, if you want. Got plenty of exercise already, huh?”

A light smack to his flank only made him giggle more, and he felt her shaking her head at him. “Hooligan,” she chided like a term of endearment, and that was when he became certain that he hadn’t fucked everything up.

Well, yet, but he figured if he made it this far, maybe he really did stand a chance.

#//sniperscout #//fem!characters #//tenderness #scout tf2 is a simp #all i could think art when writing this was that one post like #'writes m/f ships but in a distinctly bisexual way'#anyways

33 notes · View notes

phobiadeficient · 4 years

Note

engiespy w/ vibrators? except this time engie has the vibrator in him

spy tf2 treats his boyfriend well i don't take criticism

(no warnings)

He inhaled and exhaled in great tremors and hoped that he didn’t look too ridiculous.

It wasn’t often that Spy decided to turn the tables. He enjoyed being pampered and draped in attention and affection, enjoyed soaking up the pleasure and compliments and satisfaction that came with being beneath Dell Conagher in bed. More often than not, he was willing to lie back and let Dell have his fun, and then other times he would simply take a more active role in that fun.

The days when he wanted control were far and few between, probably because he took such full advantage of them when the whim arose. Tonight was no different.

Dell, if he were being completely honest, would admit that he wasn’t sure he was entirely comfortable with the way he was laid out. Flat on his back, arms crossed at the wrist up above his head and cuffed down, a blindfold fitted snugly to the lines of his face.

The thing that both comforted and riled him further was the plug gently buzzing away from within him.

It wasn’t overlarge—not like the toys he rarely (but less rarely than Spy topping) would have the other man play on. It was just big enough to feel plenty nice on its own, all the more so with the buzzing that it was doing just then.

He felt good, certainly. The cuffs were comfortable with just enough slack to let him feel contained but not truly trapped, the blindfold soft enough to very clearly be meant for play, and he wasn’t being teased as much as he assumed he’d be, not outright.

It was just that Spy had slid the toy into place and then promptly laid himself out next to the Engineer and set to gently playing with the hair on his stomach and chest, kissing at the freckled skin of his shoulders like he had absolutely nowhere else to be.

He was waiting for the catch. For the part where Spy started messing with him, teasing him. But it wasn’t happening.

Spy’s hands finally paused against him, and after a moment Spy spoke. “Mon cher, why are you so tense?” Spy asked, voice gentle in a way that sounded almost carefree, one hand rubbing up over one of his biceps. He realized as Spy ran a hand over it that indeed it was holding an awful lot more tension than normal. “You should relax.”

“And what’re you gonna do to me when I do?” he asked, tilting his head towards Spy.

Spy chuckled. “Make you feel good, of course. What else?”

He was quiet for a bit, but not quite as long as he’d expected to be, embarrassed by the noise of the toy. “Not be a tease?” he pressed.

“Mmm, no,” Spy purred, and there was a hand smoothing over his lower stomach, tracing at the space between his thigh and his hip. “Perhaps take my time, but no teasing.”

He shifted. “And you expect me to believe you on that?”

“Non, not particularly,” Spy admitted, and his fingers brushed feather-light over the modest erection the Engineer was sporting, drawing a soft noise from him. “But I do expect you to relax.”

And he did, slowly, over the course of the next several moments, both consciously and through the help of Spy’s hand moving against his skin, coaxing him to full hardness with well-practiced squeezes and tugs and just the right amount of pressure. Spy could be called a lot of things, but a bad lover was far from one of them. Even before he’d gotten properly familiar with the Engineer, the first few times they’d slept together, he did an excellent job reading his tells and drawing heat to well up within him, leaving him helpless to his pleasure.

He heard Spy hum near his ear and was sure the man had to be smirking, and bit back a remark on it. He was rewarded by Spy capturing his mouth in a sweet, surprisingly chaste kiss for a long moment, after which his hand drew away at the same moment as his lips.

He had half a mind to protest and was trying to get the sense back into his head to get some words together when he heard a little click and the buzzing of the plug intensified, only slightly, only enough to drive that sense back away again. His mouth fell open around a noiseless gasp and he fought hard to choke back a noise. Spy chuckled at that, muffled against the front of his hip alongside a brief peck, which the Engineer could only wonder at for a moment before Spy drew him into his mouth.

It was blissful, the wet heat, the buzz, the fancy silk sheets against his back. He couldn’t hold back his quiet groan, couldn’t help but tug at his bonds just to do something. And that earned him a series of sweet little licks against the head, a prod to the base of the toy, and he groaned again.

And Spy really wasn’t teasing him so much as taking his time, taking it easy. It was just that the Engineer wasn’t the most patient man, and so halfway through a blowjob like his he generally would slide his fingers through Spy’s hair and urge him to move faster, harder. As it was he couldn’t even buck properly the way Spy’s weight was resting on his thigh, and that threatened to very well drive him up the wall.

But it didn’t. The buzzing of the plug brought him that extra little distance and made this leisurely stroll towards him finishing feel satisfying as all hell, even as some part of him cried out for more, more heat, more wet, more buzzing, more anything. So he did struggle against where his hands were tied, did toss his head what amount he was able, did flush straight up to his hairline at the fact that now that he was blindfolded he was so much more aware of the lewd sucking noises that Spy was making, probably just about par for the course but still enough to embarrass him a bit.

“Spy,” he gasped, and felt all the more embarrassed at the way his voice wobbled, the way his thighs were trembling with effort. “I’m close, just—just a little more, I, I need—“

The toy clicked upwards in intensity once more, and Spy’s hand promptly moved to press at the base, giving it even that much more movement, and that was it. He spilled into Spy’s mouth with a sound that sounded far too much like a whimper for his own liking, and the rogue just wouldn’t let up, kept sucking and rocking the toy until he gave the very last he had to give and all but collapsed back into the bed, panting like he’d just sprinted a mile or six.

He groaned at the toy being pulled free, hummed as he felt a kiss against his cheek, listened idly with what brains he still had left in his head at the sound of some things moving around. Finally he felt his hands get released, and relaxed for a moment longer before moving to nudge the blindfold up.

His eyes adjusted right on time to see a blanket get tossed over him, and Spy moving to get into bed with him, kissing affectionately at the underside of his jaw.

“No teasing, mon cher, just like I promised,” he murmured, and there was an easiness to his tone and movement, an amount of sweetness in his expression that made the Engineer aware that somewhere along the line he must’ve gotten himself off, although he couldn’t for the life of him figure out exactly when. “How do you feel?”

“...Outta words,” he admitted, and that just made Spy’s smile widen.

“Good, then I’ve done my job well,” he said, and kissed him again, and he really had. He really, really had.

#//bondage #//engiespy

22 notes · View notes

phobiadeficient · 4 years

Note

under-desk blowjobs with medispy or engiespy?

medispy because i don't actually think i’ve written that before??

(warning for potential voyeurism, what with the prompt and all)

Medic was fairly sure that the main reason Spy was doing this was because he was angry with him.

The mere suggestion was enough to make Medic sputter, there hummed under Spy’s breath casually, as though they didn’t have teammates mere meters away from them. The offhanded suggestion that maybe if he couldn’t possibly take time off from his assorted paperwork to see to his lover, maybe he ought to leave a space beneath his desk so that his lover could see to him.

He’d sputtered (in German, all too aware of how his general fluster drew the eyes of those nearby) that that was ridiculous, that it would be suspicious to have the door to the Medbay locked for the first time maybe ever, and that anyone could just walk on in—

And see a desk, Spy cut in (also switching to German), with maybe a centimeter of clearance between it and the ground and therefore no ability to see beneath, and no reason for anyone to step around to Medic’s side of it regardless.

But surely, Medic insisted, there would be—be noises associated with—

Not particularly, Spy reasoned, certainly not unless one was in dead silence and listening very closely, and Medic so often had a record of classical music playing regardless.

But surely, Medic insisted, now with a tone near to desperation, it would be visible, what was going on, in particular on Medic’s face.

No, Spy said, tone airy, and that was when Medic realized that perhaps Spy was annoyed with him, as he said that it didn’t tend to show much anyways even when they were alone, did it?

And there was an amount of accuracy to that. Medic did often try to keep himself under control, keep his reactions in check, in line.

He found it much harder to keep his expression neutral when his chair was pulled in to the desk and his pants were being pulled open.

He already felt heat rising in his face as he helpfully dropped his hands to open the front of his jacket, shedding it altogether as he realized that he generally did that anyways. By the time he’d folded that and set it aside, his pants were open and being tugged just out of the way, and he found his hands hovering, unsure.

Those deft, certain hands stilled against his thighs, and he felt tension jump into his shoulders at the feeling of Spy nuzzling the inside of his knee sweetly, as if this was a romantic evening and not simply a terrible idea, why had he even agreed to this—

“I believe you said you have work to do, Docteur, do you not?” Spy reminded, so very quietly, and Medic shakily picked up a pen and slid closer one of the many papers on his desk, blinking hard and adjusting his glasses to try and focus.

He was surprised to find himself largely left alone as he read the paper before him—order forms regarding some not-strictly-legally-on-the-market chemical substances—up until a moment or two after he started writing. Then he suddenly found an ‘a’ migrating into a ‘q’ as his hand jerked just slightly, fingertips having traced just so against his inseam unexpectedly.

He lightly cleared his throat and forced himself into motion, correcting the wayward letter and furrowing his brow against the feeling of the motion repeating more firmly on the other leg, from ghosting to pressing, hands smoothing all across the expanse of his thighs and lower stomach and hips and absolutely not touching the one place Medic was starting to dearly crave such a touch.

He found himself lingering on the page as Spy’s hands lingered at the waistband of his briefs, and he released a breath he hadn’t noticed himself taking as Spy pulled him free and gave him the first few firm strokes of the evening, at just the right pressure to make his eyelashes flutter.

He sank forward a bit over the desk as Spy finally, finally stopped teasing him, mouthing at the head languidly, his exhale tickling at Medic’s exposed skin. Medic managed to school his expression back into what he hoped was something like neutrality, managed to stop the noises from flowing from his mouth to echo out into the infirmary at large, managed to keep his hands above the desk and away from taking hold of Spy’s head to set a heavier pace, all the way up into Spy bobbing his head in a satisfying rhythm. But everything felt so much more pressurized, knowing that the team could in at any moment, and here he was, Spy working his tongue in absolutely filthy motions when he briefly pulled up for air—

And oh, Gott, he couldn’t help the husky, choked-off little groan that escaped from deep in his throat as Spy’s tongue teased at the edge of his foreskin, fingertips kneading the space just beneath his balls and making his hips jerk, chair squeaking with the motion. And he felt Spy’s answering little hum, and he dragged a hand up through his hair, finding it damp with sweat.

He’d given up entirely on pretending to look at the paper, was just trying to keep quiet and still, when he realized two things. First, that he’d forgotten Spy’s suggestion of turning on one of his records. Second, that he could hear something.

Talking, laughter, echoing down the hall towards him.

He found himself trying to hiss out two different warnings. Firstly that oh no, there was someone coming, Spy, get off of him, they needed to—only for it to rapidly transform into don’t stop, he was close, just a little bit, just a little—

He managed to muffle his sharp bark of pleasure by biting into the meat of his palm, hard, hard enough to really feel the give of it. And he breathed hard, and he spent himself in throbbing waves, and couldn’t muffle the weak sort of whine that tore free of his throat as Spy lazily licked up the last few drops of his orgasm and disengaged, gently tucking him back away and giving a parting pat that made several muscles in Medic’s legs jerk.

The voices and laughter receded, presumably as whoever it was continued down the hall towards their destination, and he breathed a sigh of relief, drawing a handkerchief and starting to dab at the sweat on his forehead and neck. He wheeled back enough to let Spy stand once he felt his pants being pulled mostly back into place, and Spy got up, looking rather pleased with himself as he lightly brushed off his lapels.

“Perhaps you’ll feel like returning the favor one of these days, mon Docteur,” Spy teased, and yes, he was smug.

Medic found himself nodding for reasons he couldn’t damn well piece together, and that smug grin widened, and what exactly had he gotten himself into?

#//medispy #//teasing

19 notes · View notes