So Bed Winner was a procrastination fic to take a break from other wips, but also I wrote some small side bits from Sniper's pov to procrastinate on the procrastination fic as well. You know how these things go.
anyway. Please read Bed Winner first, these are just random bits from Sniper's pov. Please excuse the rough draftiness of it.
red spy/red sniper - rated M (nsfw)
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The blood barely has time to rinse off before Sniper has himself in one hand, soap lathered just enough for the glide to be smooth but not too slippery. Like in most other things, he likes a little friction, a bit of roughness to feel good. It'll get him off quick, in any case. The hot water running down his back gets him nice and hard in half the time—along with Spy being just outside the bathroom. Despite Spy's dry remarks, there'd been expectation in his eyes. They're going to fuck, no doubt about it, and it's going to be more than pressing and rubbing against each other on a small bank with the ceiling too low to get a good, proper buggering.
Sniper braces one hand against the shower wall, hanging his head, shivering in the hot steam.
He wants to know what Spy is doing outside the bathroom. If Spy is staying with the towel on or lounging completely naked in the room, waiting for him. Maybe he's wanking off like Sniper, black gloves and long fingers playing over his cock. Spy likes to tease, both his partners and himself, and it drives Sniper mad to see anyone be that dripping and hard, quaking from just a wristy. Worth it though, if only to watch Spy's pretty hands at work. They're even better ungloved, with the right amount of scars to make Sniper remember what other things those hands are capable of, other than holding his aching cock hostage. Soft skin, except for the callus between the juncture of his thumb and forefinger from holding a gun, holding other things, rubbing up and down with that familiar friction Sniper likes—
Sniper abruptly comes between his fingers, the suddenness making him sputter a quiet gasp through the stream of running water. His thighs flex, the pooled heat from his groin running free, as does the cum from his dick, down the drain.
Too quick. Thank fucking god he's gone and done it in the shower first. He shakes out his hand, get the spunk off under the water, and lets his forehead rest against the cool tile of the wall for a moment. Soap's nearby and still waiting, so he idly suds up, checks his ass with a swipe down the middle, though it's a fifty-fifty chance Spy's going to use it later.
Might be nice though. And Sniper does have the habit of being prepared.
He reaches for the lotion.
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Now thoroughly cleaned and prepped, Sniper steps out of the bathroom, ready to play. Wanking off in the shower has done half the work of keeping him composed, but only by so much. He's still wet from the shower, not even properly dried yet, but he can't help it. He's already half hard again from playing with his ass.
Spy is already on the bed, a handsome silhouette in the lamplight, laying there with his eyes downcast and an intent expression that Sniper likes. There's a pen between those long ungloved fingers and that really sends Sniper's mind into somewhere eager and wanting—until he realizes that Spy is on the bed writing a report.
Not hard. Or posed seductively.
Working.
Sniper is so stunned by the whiplash he has to turn around in order not to stare incredulously at Spy. He continues to dry himself with his naked ass and dick out for lack of anything else to do, thinking back on whether or not Spy did confirm wanting one of the beds for fucking.
Thankfully, his time on the field makes him very aware of when eyes are fixed on him. Especially spies.
Sniper dries himself in record time.
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In the morning, Sniper is the first to wake. It's much too early for him, but having a bloke rub his stiffy into your hip would probably wake anyone up. Sniper lays still for a moment, mildly confused and surprised, and then curiosity overtakes him and he turns his head.
Normally, Spy is so poised and controlled. Every action, every word. Sniper watches, fascinated by the open-mouthed drooling and panting, the soft moans in his ear. They're both still naked. Sniper can feel every inch of Spy's cock dragging over his skin, seeking more warmth and friction.
Far be it that Sniper would deny it from Spy. He ain't even mad. This is a fucking treat.
Sniper carefully turns, angling himself so that he can slot a thigh between Spy's legs, timing Spy's unconscious rocking to every shift of muscle. Slowly, he brings himself closer, wondering how far he can get away with having Spy like this.
He probably doesn't have to worry too much. Spy presses against Sniper all on his own, hips rolling. Spy's hands are gripping the bedsheets. Sniper tries to guide his hands away, but Spy's elbow ends up poking him, arms in a rather awkward embrace.
Spy tucking his face into Sniper's neck is nice though. Sniper can't fault that. He can hear Spy's nonsensical mumbles, more noise than actual words. Even in the middle of having wet dreams, Spy's probably good at keeping a tight lip.
Sniper lifts the blanket. God, if he can take a picture now, he would. What a pretty photo for the books. Spy's thick cock on his leg, completely wet with itself. Sniper can feel it throbbing hotly, and Spy's moans have taken on a more desperate tone, almost turning into whimpers.
Their positioning isn't right. Sniper would love to take it in his hand, but he isn't above petty revenge, especially for Spy's insistence of no fucking in the sleeping bed. In fact, this gives him the idea to stroke a finger up the underside of Spy's cock, getting it real slicked up, and have Spy's moan turn loud and broken.
Then, with professional aplomb, Sniper starts patting Spy awake. At the cheek, naturally.
Spy starts awake with a groan. It takes a quick moment for the unfocused look in Spy's eyes to sharpen to full consciousness, and Sniper pretty much grins the second he can see Spy start to realize the situation, legs flexing around Sniper's thigh. The back of Spy's shoulders and front of his chest go from a gently aroused pink to the blazing red of mortification.
Still, not even embarrassment or shame seems to overcome the natural exhaustion of coming hard enough to pass out with only a shoddy wipe down.
Spy blinks and says, tiredly, "Putain," with his own cum on his face.
Sniper sits up, amused to see him still shattered from last night. He's not the only one feeling like he's all wrung out and left to dry, but Sniper's not going to miss the opportunity to keep his promises when Spy has already worked himself up.
Spy will last only a minute with the right amount of tongue. Maybe even less. Easiest gobby Sniper will have to do yet.
"Sounds like you had a nice dream," Sniper says, smirking. He starts pulling the blankets off Spy.
"I'd rather not say," Spy mutters, almost giving Sniper pause, but he lets himself be tugged from the sleep bed.
"Suit yourself," Sniper says, happily, and makes sure he'll have Spy saying better things soon enough.
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