I must have submitted this by text a million times to the sniper/spy blog I follow, but tumblr ate it every time and they never got it, so here’s another shot. When I wrote this story last fall, my intent was to write some good old-fashioned PWP with Engineer and Sniper. Then a story started to happen. Its main focus is a relationship between those two characters, but Spy features prominently in the plot as well, and there’s a part where he approaches Sniper with a proposition…

After the day’s battle was lost and won, after the innumerable bloody wounds were banished to memory by the arcane workings of modern science, and the smoke had cleared from the barren desert where these men’s lives were as fleeting as their deaths, Sniper looked down from the battlements and lit a cigarette. Evening was coming on quickly. The sun had started to retreat behind the RED base, and the building cast deep shadows; a black chasm cut across the landscape between Sniper’s perch and the battlefield. Even though his instincts told him the battlements were a natural place to have your skull perforated by an enemy sniper, he couldn’t look away from the inscrutable darkness just below him. It looked like an honest-to-God bottomless pit.

“Suicide would only be temporary in zis place,” said a voice from out of nowhere.

Sniper’s whole body twitched, but he managed not to gratify the RED Spy with any other expressions of surprise. “Ain’t thinkin’ of it,” he grunted, frowning through a haze of cigarette smoke. “Just lookin’. …’ere, why don’t you stop hiding so I can give you a shove?”

Spy sniffed indignantly, transforming from a reddish visual distortion to a man in a pinstriped suit. “You ‘ave been so moody for ze past day or two, I was concerned you were planning to jump. It would make a terrible mess- for a few moments, anyhow.”

“Look, is there a reason you’re disturbin’ my peace and quiet?” Sniper asked, finally turning to give Spy a nonplussed look. He was starting to feel irritated.

“I don’t believe I’ve been forbidden from visiting zis part of ze base, bushman. I ‘ave as much of a right to be ‘ere as anyone.” He smirked at the other man. In the dim light, his cigarette glowed like a dragon’s mouth, throwing the angles of his face into harsh silhouette. Spy took a few steps towards Sniper, still smiling. “As for ‘why’, I ‘ad a question for you… a proposition, I suppose you could call it.”

The Australian’s body stiffened slightly, a wary animal meeting the gaze of a predator. “You sneaky bastard… what is it? What d’you want from me?”

Spy rolled his eyes dramatically, and gave a drawn-out sigh. “So misanthropic! It is no mystery zat ‘alf of ze people you work with can’t stand being around you, mon ami. Now ‘ear me out, I haven’t come to make enemies with you. I simply wish to ensure our… necessities are tended to, hmm? You are a practical man. You are also a man who enjoys ‘is privacy from ze rest of zese bêtes we deal with on a daily basis.”

“Get to the bloody point,” Sniper growled. His posture was rigid as before, but he could feel his heart pounding, and sweat creeping down his back. The tasteless mess-hall dinner he’d devoured thoughtlessly was churning in his stomach.

“I know what you are ‘iding.” The masked man’s lip curled slightly as a sound of disbelief escaped Sniper. “Don’t blame your friend ze Engineer, ‘e didn’t tell me. I just ‘appened to overhear your conversation.”

Sniper lunged for Spy before he could react, clamping a large hand around his throat and smashing him back against the wall. The cool demeanor that Sniper had maintained up until this point had evaporated, boiled away by an upwelling of blazing fury, and he gave his team-mate another slam before leaning in close to the mask. His face twisted with rage, lips pulled back in a wolfish snarl, fangs bared. It took him a moment to find words for the situation. “If you’re fuckin’ blackmailing me, stop prancing around and t-” He paused, wincing, then spat out the rest of the sentence. “Tell me what you’re after.”

Winded from the blow, Spy actually gaped wordlessly at Sniper for a few seconds before he recovered his composure. The smirk returned to his face. “Mssr. Mundy, zere is no reason to be losing your temper. As long as we cooperate, I can guarantee ze others will never find out. What I ask in return is nothing zat would effect your work… we are both professionals, oui? It will be a business arrangement of sorts, no more. Now…” He lifted a hand and placed it against Sniper’s forearm, caressing the tanned skin with a gloved thumb. “If you would kindly remove your ‘and from my throat, we can discuss ze matter in more detail.”

The aviators Sniper wore had slipped from their place, and he glared murderously over the dark lenses, breathing heavily. He felt as though he was being torn apart inside, mentally more than physically; his self-control was dangerously close to lapsing. There were a dozen unpleasant things he wanted to say, but he couldn’t seem to find his voice, couldn’t articulate himself. Spy arched an eyebrow and clicked his tongue impatiently, and that was what did it for Sniper’s temper. A rush of adrenaline flooded his body, a burst of energy that spurred him to lift the other man off his feet and bodily hurl him from the ramparts. Spy’s wide eyed expression of shock seemed to linger in the dying light, a ghost-image of the man’s face hovering before the landscape’s red rocks, haunting Sniper like ‘The Scream’.

The dull crunch of a body hitting the ground below was telling- Spy was dead, at least for a minute or two. As he came down from the rush of animal fury that had driven him on, Sniper turned back and leaned against the wall for support, feeling sick and light-headed. (What the hell have I done?! He’s gonna’ have me by the cobblers now… Christ, I’d better get to the respawn chamber before he can tell the whole base about this.) Choking down the bile that stung at the back of his throat, Sniper scowled and hurried inside.

* * * * *

Spy emerged from respawn just as Sniper arrived, looking much less friendly than before. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but before he could get a word out Sniper shoved him back into the room, following right after and securing the door behind them. It felt like Sniper’s heart had become a permanent fixture in his trachea, but he did his best to swallow the knot away and prepared for some world-class groveling.

(No,) he thought anxiously as he considered the word. (Not groveling. …bargaining. Right, that’s what I was thinking of. Bargaining.)

The expression on Spy’s face was souring as the moments ticked by, and when his patience ran out he grabbed Sniper by the collar and yanked him forwards, striking the Australian hard across the face. “Fils de putain! I come to you with a perfectly reasonable business proposition, and you throw me off a fucking balcony?! ‘ave you lost your mind?!” He gave Sniper another open-handed slap, which seemed to jostle him back to his senses; he stared raptly as Spy continued his tirade. “If I were a less reasonable man, our negotiations would be over! I promise you zat in ten- no, five minutes, I could see to it zat every man on zis base knows about your depravity…” The red mask hovered inches away from Sniper’s face, hot with anger and the lingering odour of cigarette smoke. Spy’s voice was low and deadly serious as he released the other man, and straightened his tie. “I own you now. You should consider your next words wisely.”

“You’re- I- I j-just lost me temper, that’s all!” Sniper stammered, and immediately regretted it. (Nice going, Mundy, I’m sure you could’ve done better than that.) The RED Spy appeared to be nonplussed by this explanation, which didn’t do much for his confidence. Wringing his hands together, Sniper tried to think of ways to talk the other man down, and did his best to ignore the darkness creeping around the edges of his vision. “Look, mate, h-how ‘bout we have a smoke and talk this over, okay? You’re, uh, you want me to pull some sorta’ favours for you, right? And I- well, I…”

“You don’t want to zese men to know you are a ‘omosexual,” Spy sniffed, reaching into a pocket for his cigarette case. “Come. We will discuss zis somewhere less public.” He sidestepped Sniper and opened the door, then gestured for the marksman to accompany him; Sniper did wordlessly, shaking one of his own cigarettes out of its packet and lightning it with an unsteady hand.

* * * * *

Nobody saw them on their trip through the base, and when they arrived at a neatly decorated room in the dormitory wing, Sniper realized that it was Spy’s bedroom. There was no paraphernalia relating to his line of work in here- presumably that was all kept somewhere much more secretive- which left room for a tea-table and some other personal effects. After locking the door, Spy pulled out a chair and sat, then cleared his throat, waiting for his guest to do the same. Sniper stood like a lost child for a moment, dazed and confused, then hastily took a seat across from Spy.

“It seems you ‘ave yet to fully appreciate ze situation you are in, Mssr. Mundy. Take your vest off. Out ‘ere in ze desert, away from ze comforts of a more civilized setting, per’aps some men would not be so disgusted by ze likes of you. Zis is practically a prison, after all! Why, if you were fortunate, zey might just see you as an outlet for ze…” Spy lingered on that sentence and drew in a lungful of cigarette smoke, watched it hang in the air as he exhaled. “…frustrations a man experiences, when zere are no real women to speak of. Now ze shirt. Remove it. Even if zat were ze case, though, would you honestly want to be objectified by everyone? To be seen as ze designated group bitch? I wasn’t making a joke, mon ami- take your fucking shirt off. Ze pants too, while you are at it.”

Sniper’s awkward hesitation turned to alarm as the Spy’s intentions began to crystalize; whatever he had in mind, it was going to be humiliating at best, and painful at worst. Anger surged in his chest, and he found himself glaring at Spy, even as he started half-heartedly unbuttoning his shirt. “I don’t trust you one bit, you horrible little wanker. How’m I supposed to believe you won’t out me after you’ve ‘ad your fun, eh?”

Ever the chameleon, Spy transformed before his eyes into a picture of bonhomie, of interested glances and a familiar sort of grin. He shivered, even as some part of him was put at ease by this change. “Mon cher, whatever would I ‘ave to gain from doing zat? Look at me, you know I am a man of ze world, a man who ‘as seen more, tasted more forbidden fruits, than even ze likes of you could ever dream of. Yet ‘ere I am, pursuing you.” Spy set his cigarette down in the ashtray, then rose to his feet and came closer to Sniper, an alluring smile still playing across his lips. “Why would I be doing such a thing? I know you and ze other men on zis base are satisfied to pull-off and look at dirty pictures, but I ‘ave so much more taste and self-restraint.” He reached into Sniper’s open shirtfront and started tugging the garment down, even before it was completely unbuttoned, entangling the tall man’s arms in the process. As Sniper cursed and wrestled with the fabric, Spy pressed a fingertip into the wiry hair over his breastbone, and traced a cool line up until the gloved hand was at his chin, tilting his face to meet its owner’s.

“You are ‘ere because I want you, you crass, rugged man. Ever since ze first day we fought alongside each other, I ‘ave wanted you,” he said, his voice husky with desire.

“Jesus flippin’ Christ,” Sniper whispered, staring over his glasses frames at the shape-shifter, his expression one of utter disbelief. He hadn’t been interested in Spy when they first met, and his feelings on the matter were still the same- while the Frenchman was not exactly unattractive, he was a deceitful bastard by his very profession, and even when off the job his behaviour was marked by snobbish secrecy and a disinterest in doing any more than the bare minimum required of him to keep the base running. Even if his flowery story of harbouring an unrequited infatuation with Sniper were true, this was still extortion of the basest kind. Thoughts and feelings surrounding this betrayal were twisting like a knife in Sniper’s chest. (Any way I look at it, this is rotten business! Blackmailing a co-worker is low, even for a professional bloody backstabber. What the hell am I going to do?!)

Trying to consider his alternatives sent pangs of hopelessness through Sniper’s body- the only superior they answered to was the Administrator, and she seemed even more dodgy than Spy. Moreover, explaining his grievances while keeping face would be impossible. (Being a fairy can get you put away back home, and I’m pretty fucking certain it’s frowned on here, too.) While the RED company had enough legal heft that local governments politely ignored the organized bloodshed their employees engaged in on a daily basis, it seemed unlikely to Sniper that his employers would care to shelter him from persecution- if they didn’t just fire him on the spot. He sagged in his chair, feeling powerless while Spy undid his belt buckle and started unzipping his pants.

(And Spy, that damned Spy…) Whatever his personal feelings for the secret agent were, Sniper knew the man’s touch was starting to get to him. It had been so long since he’d been with someone like this, too long for his body to resist temptation and the promise of someone’s hot breath against his bare chest. Spy pushed the table away and kneeled before him, then grazed an exposed nipple with his teeth, caressed Sniper’s flanks with those leather-clad hands and gave a quiet chuckle as his captive groaned.

“You are… what is ze expression, ‘going commando’? I shouldn’t be surprised.”

“Dunno what the hell you’re talking about,” Sniper growled and glared at the ceiling, but he was panting now, his body aching with need. The open front of the marksman’s trousers revealed his naked penis, which was rising now from a thatch of dark hair, all ruddy and turgid with interest; Spy grasped it in a hand that was suddenly ungloved, and lovingly teased it with the light touches of fingertips and the edges of manicured nails. “Ah- God, mate, be careful w-” An undignified cry escaped Sniper as he felt Spy’s tongue explore the slit at the head of his cock, which was already growing slick with precum.

Spy was doing unspeakable things with his mouth, wearing away at Sniper’s objections to this arrangement- for the time being, at least. As he paused to catch his breath and disentangle the bushman’s hands from his shirt, Spy looked up, his face smouldering with arousal. “Whatever ‘appened to all ze ‘arsh words you were giving me earlier, mignon? Look at me when I talk to you. You will enjoy zis. Hmmmhmhm, I can practically taste ze neglect your body ‘as suffered…”

Weak words of dissent started from Sniper’s tongue, and died as he looked down to see Spy devouring his length without a moment’s hesitation. He bit his lip hard and tried to stifle the noises that rose in his chest, as each bit of movement from the masked gentleman sent waves of pleasure through his body. Spy’s hands wandered the sensitive skin of his throat for a while then crept lower, kneading the sore muscles of his back, pinching at his nipples, before tracing a path down his ribs and attending to the marksman’s inner thighs. “Hnngh- awfuck, just… lemme off this chair, and, and do whatever it is you wanna’ do t’me,” he growled, digging his fingers into the arm-rests. “Enough with th’bloody teasing…”

“You are in no position to make demands,” Spy murmured, his lips and breath brushing hotly against the peak of the other man’s erection, drawing forth a shuddering groan from overhead. Clear beads of precum leaked from Sniper’s dick, and he lapped them up, rubbing the tip of his tongue firmly against the sensitive opening and eliciting some stifled sounds of enjoyment. “Zis just ‘appens to be ze first of many things I want to do to you. Mmmmmh, mon cher… I would love to violate every part of you, and make you scream in pleasure as I do. I believe I will…”

* * * * *

While Engineer was succumbing to insomnia in the seclusion of his workshop, Sniper was losing a battle with another affliction- his libido. He was bent over the table now, face-down, groaning and sweating as Spy dug bony fingertips into his back. His muscles and sinew were like knotted steel cable, slowly yielding to the insistent prodding of Spy’s hands, each jolt of pain followed by dizzying warmth that slithered down his spine and fed the growing heat in his belly. Sniper felt like his head was spinning, but despite the overwhelming pleasure he was receiving, he couldn’t still the thoughts raging in his mind.

(He could’ve fucked me and thrown me out by now, if he’d just get on with it. Why the hell is he taking his time? Is he just trying to put me guard down before he pulls something nasty?) It occurred to Sniper that Spy’s prose about his exotic sexual conquests and long-running desire for the Australian may have been more than just bluster. Even so, he couldn’t feel any sympathy for the infatuated Spy. (If he wanted a shag, I can think of a dozen different ways he could’ve propositioned me, and none of them involve threats to ruin my life. He knows I hate his guts, but everyone here’s bored and lonely. If he’d been persistent enough, I might’ve even agreed to something as long as there were no strings attached…)

A firm slap on the ass brought Sniper’s attention back to his surroundings, and he yelped in surprise. “If I didn’t know any better, I would think you’re trying not to enjoy zis,” Spy purred. Peering back over his shoulder, Sniper could see the chameleon looming over him, naked aside from the red balaclava. Spy’s hands had migrated from Sniper’s back to his buttocks and were kneading the firm flesh, pausing now and then to lightly rub the cleft of his ass. Sniper pressed his face into his forearm and grunted, sucking in air between his clenched teeth. An appreciative moan came from behind him; Spy was admiring the view, and tormenting his guest with soft, teasing strokes of the puckered skin around the marksman’s exposed anus. “Ohhh, mon petit faucon, you are so beautiful like zis… Your desperation is like a fever, you are writhing from ze heat. Whatever could I do to alleviate your suffering, cher? ‘ow can I bring you an end to zis torture?”

Sniper growled a reply, but it was muffled and unclear. He could feel a wandering fingertip push inside him for just a second, and a surge of mindless lust gripped him; lifting his head from the table, he snarled, “Stop your bloody yammering and fuck me!”

“You ‘opeless romantic,” came Spy’s sarcastic reply. “Very well, since you asked so nicely… I will give you what you want.” A faint, spicy fragrance pierced the fog of sweat, sex, and cigarettes that lingered in the small room. Sniper squirmed impatiently as the masked man dipped his fingers with massage oil, then began the deliciously drawn-out process of slicking his guest’s nether regions with the stuff. After a wanton cry escaped him, Sniper bit down on his forearm to muffle any further sounds he might make, and shivered as Spy’s fingers slipped inside him, gently stretching the ring of muscle, coating his tight passage with that tingling lubricant. Even though he was hardly a blushing virgin, this was the first time in months that Sniper had someone else stimulating that part of his body, and Spy seemed to know exactly what he was doing.

“So,” Sniper panted, “Do all you frogs practice anal, or am I in the company of a-” He paused to choke back a whimper; Spy had just hit his sweet spot, and his struggle keep quiet prompted the other man to rub it again, chuckling softly. Stars flashed before Sniper’s eyes, and before he knew it he was in the throes of orgasm, bucking his hips against the edge of the table as thick ropes of semen spurted from his swollen cock.

When the world came back into focus, Sniper could taste blood – he’d bit his lip as he came. Behind him, he could hear Spy walking to the bedside, clicking his tongue in a chiding manner. (Serves him right for being such a cock-tease. Bah, don’t have to be hard for him to bugger me, anyhow. Maybe I’ll get out of here soon, then I can just forget about the whole thing.) He sighed and sagged over the table, stretching his arms behind his head for a moment, then letting them flop down onto the table. “Sorry ‘bout that, mate,” he grunted. “Couldn’t expect me t’hold back forever, could you?”

Spy returned to his guest after a moment, humming quietly. “Perhaps I am a little disappointed, but… I cannot be surprised. You ‘ave clearly been deprived ze attentions of a skilled lover for a very, very long time. I suppose you are feeling restless now zat you ‘ave found release, but-” Too quickly for Sniper to evade or even react, Spy pounced on the captive and cuffed his hands behind his back. “I’m afraid I plan on keeping you ‘ere a little longer.”

Raw panic exploded in Sniper’s chest, launching his heart into a mad, painful gallop. “Wait, what the fuck are you- lemme go, you backstabbing son of a bitch!” Sniper stood up, shoving the Spy back as he did, then turned to face his host, even as some inconvenient facts were making themselves clear in his mind. He was naked and handcuffed, which put him at a disadvantage for fighting or fleeing the scene. Moreover, he had yet to secure a promise of secrecy from Spy, who was currently observing him with the skeptical smirk of a man that knows he’s got the upper hand.

“You know zat you ‘ave no way out.” Spy approached his guest and seemed to transform again, from cold-hearted captor to lovestruck admirer, the sarcasm melting from his face to expose an expression of intense desire, of heart-wrenching tenderness and animal lust. He softly clasped his hands against Sniper’s waist, and leaned in close to the man in spite of his wild-eyed alarm. “…why all of zis panic, mon petit con? Do you think I would gut you? Gouge your eyes out and rape ze ‘oles? Feed you poison? I would find no pleasure in zat, and besides, death would take you from my quarters.”

“A bloke can live through a lot of things. I ever tell you ‘bout the time I spent workin’ in Borneo?” He recoiled from the Spy’s approach, but didn’t really have much room to move. The look on his face grim and distrusting. “…I’m absolutely pos’ you know how to make a man wish ‘e was dead.”

Spy seemed almost hurt, and lifted a hand to the back of Sniper’s neck, pulling him in until their noses were almost touching. His gaze was disarmingly soft, eyes half-lidded and smouldering with want. “I know you ‘ave no trust in me, Mssr. Mundy, but if my plans for you were something ‘orrible you would be bound by more than ‘andcuffs.” Holding Sniper’s head in place, Spy finally pressed his lips against the other man’s and kissed him firmly.

A grunt of objection escaped his throat, but… (God help me, that poncy bastard is a good kisser.) The warmth and softness of their exchange sparked a new fire in the pit of his stomach; as Spy turned up the heat with a flick of his tongue, Sniper groaned and pushed back. He felt those manicured hands slip under his arms and dig into the muscles of his lower back, firing off sparks pain and pleasure that left him weak in the knees. Sniper soon realized that he had leaned against Spy of his own volition, and was grinding into him, hip to hip. His returning erection rubbed sluggishly between the Frenchman’s thighs, while Spy’s own hard-on was trapped amidst the friction between their bellies. Muffled sighs and moans filled the room’s heady air, and Sniper’s apprehension was smothered under the weight of his sexual lust. He didn’t care where he was or who he was with anymore; all he wanted was to be pinned down and fucked until all of these unwanted urges were drained from his body.