Disclaimer: Do not own. No money being made. A/N's available at the end. Enjoy!


Chapter Six: Addiction

The Sniper was not prone to panic. He was a calm man with often sedated emotions. Even in the heat of a fire fight, he was known for keeping his calm. Only in the tightest of circumstances was he known to lose his temper and, even then, he was only known for his vicious shouts promising pain and vengeance. Knowing this about himself, the Sniper was surprised to find himself pacing, nervously, through the upper levels of the base.

He had sprinted from the make shift prison cell at first, his long legs carrying him up the stairs three at a time. When he found himself far from the cell he had slowed, regained his breath, forced himself to slow his sprint to a walk. He was pacing the hall of the barracks, the sleeping quarters of the RED team, and trying to decipher just how dangerous this new situation was going to be for himself.

He had committed treason, there was no denying that, no way to call it anything less damning. He knew the bases of both teams were wired with microphones, cameras and God only knew what else. Had his actions already been reported to the RED team's superiors? Was it only a matter of minutes before unnamed agents swooped in, dragged him away and made him disappear?

However, as the moments ticked by with no masked men descending on him, the Sniper began to suspect that his superiors knew nothing of his actions. Or, if they did, they simply did not care. Perhaps, somewhere, an unnamed corporate bastard was laughing softly to himself, amused at his employee's situation. Whatever the truth may be, neither option gave the Sniper much peace of mind.

He had been trying to gain her trust, and he was certain he had succeeded. These new circumstances, however, made his certainty self destruct. For all he knew, she had played him with cheery stories of a fake family, had managed to weasel her way into his mind and get him to trust her as he had wanted her to do for him. Then she had seduced him... But if she had seduced him to get him to lower his guard, she surely would have killed him. Wouldn't she? Or had her actions been spur of the moment, unplanned and ill-advised just like her escape attempt?

The Sniper removed his hat, ran his hands through his short, sweaty hair. Tried to shake the seductive, haunting image of the beautiful woman writhing beneath him. It was a difficult image to forget... if he even wanted to forget it. No, he would. Had to. He would go on, just as before, with no one the wiser of his mistake.

The Sniper slipped into his sleeping quarters, a room almost as small and as spartan as the prison cell he had just visited. He grabbed a clean uniform from the short locker that sat in the corner of the tiny room. He needed a shower, needed to wash the scent of sweat and sex from his body. Perhaps with the evidence washed away, he would have an easier time keeping the gorgeous prisoner from his mind.

It was wishful thinking. Even as he allowed the scalding hot water rinse away his transgressions, more treacherous images crawled into his mind's eye, teasing him. The steam of the hot shower only reminded him of her pale flesh, hot and wet with desire. The beads of condensation on the shower walls were just like the droplets of sweat that had formed along her neck and slid, tantalizingly, down her chest between her breasts and down her thick torso.

"Bugger all," The Sniper cursed quietly, his fist slamming into the hard tile wall. He couldn't escape the sensual thoughts that slithered into his conscience. A part of him wondered if he even wanted to stop them.

But he was a professional, a talented assassin who never shied away from a job or a challenge. He was not a coward, not an easily controlled man. He wouldn't let this vixen play him. She may have ensnared him with her body, but he would fight her to the very end. Two could play this little game she had so unwisely started.

The Sniper left the showers a clean, determined man and worked his way through the base back to the yard where his teammates were relaxing in the afternoon sun. The RED Pyro and Demoman were having a one-on-one game of baseball, with the Pyro bunting the baseball to the Demoman. In the haystack sat a very dazed Scout, with the monstrous Heavy sitting next to him, who was cutting a steak apart for the young man. At the top of the staircase sat the Medic, who was so engulfed in his book that he barely glanced sideways as the Sniper sat down next to him.

They sat in companionable silence for ages before the curses of a drunken Scottish demolitions expert erupted in the courtyard below them.

"Yer out matey! I tagged yer arse before ya set a foot on that base!" The Demoman was shouting at the RED Pyro.

"Mph mmrph mrph! MRPH!" The Pyro was gesturing wildly between the base and the Demoman, "Mrr mprh mrrnp mr mprh!"

"'Sma turn to bat, ya great muffled dandy!" The Demoman attempted to snatch the baseball bat from the Pyro's hands. The Pyro, determined to prove his 'safe at base' refused to release his grip on the baseball bat. This began a less than mature tug of war between the men.

The Medic, who had finally glanced down at the situation unfolding beneath him, snorted and muttered, "Kinder."

The Sniper didn't turn to the Medic, didn't ask him to translate his derisive word. A fact that did not go unnoticed by the Medic.

"You seem far avay. Somezing on your mind, freund?" The Medic questioned.

"Nah mate. I'm just dandy." The Sniper answered plainly as he attempted to push his latest troubles to the back of his mind.

"I think I know vhat is troubling you so," The Medic said as he snapped his book shut and turned to his teammate.

"'Sthat so?" The Sniper almost growled, prepared to defend himself and attempt to weave a tale that would keep the Medic quiet.

"Of course. Your leg," The Medic nudged the Sniper's wounded leg with the tip of his boot, "You are bored, ja? You vant to be released so you can return to duty. You are not the type of man that enjoys these quiet days."

The Sniper felt a pang of guilt for judging his companion so quickly and gave the Medic a small smirk, "You hit the nail on the head, Doc."

"Vell then, I suppose I can clear you for duty. Your leg seems no vorse for vear," The Medic nudged the Sniper's leg, none too gently, to solidify his statement, "Though do be careful. My gun heals vell in the short-term, but I do not know the long-term effects it has on bones and ligaments."

"Wasn't planning on takin' up tap dance'n Doc. Just thought I'd throw my hat in for guard duty. Give me a change o' scenery," The Sniper explained on a whim.

"Vell I am certain the Soldier vill be pleased to here that," The Medic rose to his feet and extended a hand to the Sniper, "God knows he has been insufferable ever since he has been in charge of guard duty."

The Sniper took the Medic's hand and stood up with his offered assistance, "I think we all have been. But now I can give him a break in his schedule, eh?"

"A noble cause," The Medic chuckled, "Vhat vill be vorse? Dealing vith our guest or offering to be a stand in for our very boring vatch?"

The Sniper suppressed urge to answer defensively, and managed to mutter, "Like I said: I could use a change of scenery."


The Medic had been right: the Soldier had been all too happy to have the Sniper report back to duty. And the Sniper had been all two happy to take a handful of guard shifts from his various teammates. Guard duty was not a coveted position, even when the opposing team was willing to go on the offensive. Each shift was divided into eight long, boring hours of pacing back and forth along the deck overlooking the makeshift moat between the bases.

As boring as it was, it was still easy, quiet work. The Sniper had welcomed the silence, the chance to mull over his situation uninterrupted and come to a conclusion about how he would handle the BLU Pyro. The Sniper would wash his hands of it all, he decided, and set this new frame of mind within his conscience. If the Spy wanted his precious information, he could acquire it himself.

His subconscious, however, had other ideas.

In the three days he had been reinstated for duty, the Sniper had taken four guard shifts, two of which were back to back. On his thirtieth hour of his last shift, the Sniper began to feel his lack of sleep taking hold. He had leaned against the deck's warm, metal paneling when he felt himself falling. He jerked awake violently, glared at the metal paneling as though it were somehow at fault, and began to pace the wooden deck.

Walking kept him awake, but it was not long before he found himself resting against the warm paneling once more.

The warm metal became hot, porcelain colored flesh in his barley conscious state. He ran his gloved hand between her breasts and down the smooth muscles of her stomach. He grasped her thighs, gently pulling her hips to his own. He watched her face, then, as he thrust into her; reveled in the way she bit her lip to stifle her moan.

"Yo man, what's up?"

The Sniper's eyes snapped open and, without a pause, shouted, "Piss off!"

"Woah!" The Scout jumped, "Jeez, man, that's the last time I do somethin' nice for you!"

The Sniper blinked, focused his tired eyes on the Scout and saw, in the young man's hand, a cup of coffee.

"Awh, I'm sorry mate. Just startled me is all," The Sniper gave the Scout a reassuring slap on the shoulder, "Give it here, if ya don't mind?"

The Scout handed over the coffee without delay. As the Sniper sipped the scalding drink, the Scout reclined against the wall, "S'all right, man. Doc sent me as the errand boy anyway. He wants me to tell you 'You did not say zat you vould be on your feet for so long! Sixteen hours is a long time, even if it is just guard duty, ja? Remember vhat I told you about long-term effects!'"

The Sniper chuckled at the Scout's surprisingly accurate mimicry of the Medic, "You can tell the good Doc to stop worrying. Only way my leg is gunna give me trouble is if I fall off the deck in my sleep."

"Ha, right? Frigg'n boring up here," The Scout turned to leave, "Betcha' missing that crazy bitch down stairs, huh?"

"Not really," The Sniper shrugged and sipped his coffee, exuding unnecessary carelessness, "Glad to hand that job to someone else."

The Scout turned back, cocked his head, "What job?"

"Feeding her?" The Sniper stopped in mid sip of his coffee, "Ah, bloody hell, don't tell me no one has fed her these last few days?"

The Scout shook his head, "I don't think so, pops. You never asked any of us to do anything. Spy's always sayin' she tolerates you best and to leave her alone. 'Sides, no one cares enough to mess with her."

The Sniper pinched the bridge of his nose, attempted to rid himself of the migraine that was beginning to form.

"Hell, man, don'tcha worry. Go take care of her now and take the chance to sneak off early for some sleep. Doc was right, you've been out here awhile. See if someone else'll take your place," The Scout shrugged, "Or screw 'er. I'm sure she can go a day or two more without food."

The Sniper growled, frustrated with himself for letting such a large detail slip his mind. She would hardly starve to death in three days time, but if no one else would take over the task then she would eventually. That, at least, was the story the Sniper was telling himself.

"'Course," a dark smile spread across the Scout's face as he spoke up again, "If you're in a real jam, I can do it for ya."

The Sniper had an all too realistic vision of the RED Scout and BLU Pyro tearing each other limb from limb. The RED team couldn't afford to lose the Scout, nor could they afford to lose their high-priced captive.

"No," The Sniper muttered, "I'm on it. Get one of the boys to take over for me."

"Right'o," The Scout nodded, "And get some rest, man. You haven't been right in days."

The Sniper scoffed, "Needn't tell me that, mate."


It was the RED Pyro who agreed to take over guard duty, and he gave the Sniper a cheery "Mmmph mph!" as they passed in the hallways of the base.

"Thanks, mate, g'night to you too," The Sniper answered his teammate without breaking his quick stride.

His mind was preoccupied with the task at hand. He would simply drop her food and leave her, he decided. No questions, no interaction beyond that of a prisoner and a warden.

The sentry gun outside the cell gave him a somber, beeping welcome. Seeking any excuse to delay his entrance into the cell, the Sniper gave the sentry gun a pat as one would pet an obedient dog. For an instant, the Sniper felt the gun might bark in appreciation. To his disappointment, it merely beeped in acknowledgement of an allied presence.

Out of ideas to stall his inevitable task, the Sniper slowly unlocked the cell door and stepped into the warm cell.

To the Sniper's surprise, the BLU Pyro was awake and standing in the center of the tiny room. She had heard him, of course, and had risen to her feet to face him as he stepped inside. Her arms were at her sides, fists tightly clenched. She was without her flame retardant gear, and wore only her protective body suit. The pale blue, flimsy cotton suit hugged every curve of the Pyro's body.

The Sniper inhaled deeply, steadying himself. He knew that just beneath the thin layer of linen was the body that had haunted his psyche for days. Though painfully aroused by the mere sight of her, he was still determined to walk away.

"Here," He grunted as he held up the plate of old food he had brought for her, "Sorry. Thought someone else would feed you."

The BLU Pyro slowly stretched out her hand, and her fingertips brushed his as she took the plate from him. With his task done, the Sniper turned to leave.

The sound of the plate full of food being dropped, carelessly, onto the old mattress made him turn back. He instantly regretted his choice.

The Sniper stood stalk still as the Pyro drew closer to him. Her steps were confident, almost predatory as she approached him. She stopped when their bodies were mere inches apart, and her slim fingers began to unbutton her cotton suit.

The Sniper groaned as her suit slipped from her body to the floor; it was such a simple act, but now he knew he could not leave. Whatever resistance he had believed he had fell away at the sight of her naked body.

She was more sensual, more arousing than anything his mind had fabricated over his days away from her. Even the angry scars from her countless battles were beautiful against her ivory skin. He wanted to gaze at her, to take her in and memorize every inch of her, but she had other plans.

As he had been transfixed by her naked body, her hands had explored his. Her hands massaged the wiry muscles of his chest and arms before sliding down his torso to his groin. He groaned and tilted his head back as her nimble fingers stroked him through his pants. She demanded more of him, then, and unbuckled his belt to free him from his jeans. Her warm fingers wrapped around him and stroked, just once, from the base to tip.

And then he had to have her.

Without a thought or care, the Sniper seized the Pyro's hips and lifted her into his arms. Her legs wrapped around his waist in an instant, and he carried her to the cell's adjacent wall. With more force than may have been necessary he threw her against the wall and, swiftly, thrust himself inside her.

The Pyro gasped in surprise and pleasure at the suddenness of his actions. She closed her eyes and chuckled softly, "Now that's more like it."

He firmly grasped her thighs, certain he would leave bruises on her pale skin, and pressed her hips against the wall as he drove in and out. She was so wet, so tight around him that he felt he would lose control at any moment. He pressed his face into the crook of her neck and shoulder as he continued to pump inside her.

He felt her lips against his ear and she whispered in a hoarse, lust filled voice, "Harder."

He obliged, driving himself deeper at an almost frenzied pace. She whimpered, and her nails dug through the fabric of his shirt to scrap the flesh of his shoulders.

"Don't stop!" She begged breathlessly. A rough, animalistic laugh escaped the Sniper's throat: he couldn't stop if he wanted to.

Her moans, her sweat dampened flesh and the mere scent of her finally overtook him. He gave one last thrust as he reached his climax, and remained deep inside her as he emptied himself.

He took deep, heavy breaths against her neck as he recovered from his efforts. The heat of their flesh fogged up his sunglasses as he regained his breath.

Then he was overwhelmed with exhaustion, weakened by what had transpired and his lack of rest. His arms were shaky beneath her weight and she sensed it. She unwrapped herself from him and he gently lowered her down the wall. She stepped away, laid down on the old mattress and stretched lusciously.

The Sniper fastened his pants and belt as the Pyro reclined on the mattress. She was flushed and smiling, totally satiated.

The Sniper turned, wanting to race from the cell as he had before. She was dangerous, a grievous craving and he had to be rid of her. A siren with a hellish power over him and he hated himself for his own weakness, his lack of resolve. She made him a lose all that he was, made him a traitor, and for that he hated her. Yet he knew somewhere, deep in his exhausted conscience, that he would have to have her again and again. He had been kidding himself for days, thinking that he would be able to stay away. Somehow he had known that all along.

Even knowing that she was a venomous harlot did not stop him from lowering his lanky form on to the foot of the old mattress. His exhaustion overtook him and he rested his head in his hands, lost in his own self reprimanding thoughts. He stayed like that for some time before he sensed movement on the mattress.

The Pryo slid her arms around his torso, caressed his chest and arms as she had moments before. He almost melted into her embrace as she began to massage the thick muscles of his back and neck.

"Mmm," She murmured against the side of his neck, "Why so pensive?"

He said nothing; he was too wrapped up in his own thoughts and her massage to respond.

She laughed, and her laughter was callous, "Feeling guilty, are you? Married?"

A dry chuckle escaped his lips, "No."

"No? Well then… It must be the fact that you feel so out of place as a double agent, " She asked as she kissed the side of his unshaven cheek, "You must be hoping I'll spill company secrets while you fuck me."

It was the way she said it, not necessarily that she knew the truth, that caused him to turn his head and stare blankly at her.

"That's what I thought," She laughed her cold laugh once again, "Do you think you're so hard to figure out?"

He returned his head to his hands, rubbed his temples in frustration, "I'm not an interrogator."

"Or torturer," She purred, slid her hands down his torso, "Because if this is how you extract information…Well, you can try to make me talk as many times as you wish."

At that the Sniper stood, pulled away from the Pyro's seductive grasp, "Eat."

She took the plate he had brought for her and began to unwrap it's contents. The Sniper walked to the door and his hand had barely grasped the handle when she spoke again, "Get some rest. You have to bring me breakfast tomorrow."

The Sniper gave a terse laugh at her statement, knowing full well he would be back and wrapped in her arms by morning. He walked out of the cell, torn between hating himself and hoping that dawn would arrive sooner than later.


A/N: Well hey there! I'm back, baby! Probably not for long though. You should know how I work by now, ha. So… what to say, what to say?

Yes, I saw Meet the Pyro! The Pyro is… Well, uh, holy shit: beyond crazy! He/she is completely delusional. Thanks to that new knowledge, it appears that I'm being a bit reserved with that character. And here I thought I was going to have to turn down the crazy to make my Pyro more accurate. Clearly I've got to up the insanity somehow… But really, her character is set at this point. They all are. So… My liberties have been taken and my characters aren't as close to the original Valve characters as I had hoped they would be. Oh well, I tried right?

Poor Sniper. He can't really help himself, can he? Can you blame him, though, what with the smoking hot red head that can't seem to get enough of him? I think any man would have a hard time doing the right thing in that situation. Think he'll ever be right again?

So, what is it about these two? What are they going to do? I think they're about to see some consequences for their actions, I can tell you that much! ;)

My story is a little over halfway done now. Do you still like what you're reading? Then hit me up via reviews or messages! You know I love it! As always, I do my best to respond ASAP, but if I've missed you I'm very sorry! Keep hitting me over the head and I'll get it eventually! :)

Until next time ya'll!

EDITED 9/17/2012