Title: Blame it on the Hormones
Summary: Sniper has begun a strange practice during ceasefires, and Engineer isn't sure how he feels about it.
He frowned at the malfunctioning dispenser prototype and ran a gloved hand against his forehead, bumping his hardhat up a few inches before it settled back down against sweat-soaked skin. Jumpy and agitated, he set his wrench on the machine and stepped back. He wasn't exactly sure why he was bothering with it at this point - a ceasefire had been called. For how long, no one knew. No one ever did. What he did figure is that, now, it was only a matter of time. A matter of time until he arrived.
Why couldn't he get over this awkwardness? He'd never been shy before in his life, but now... Knowing what was almost certainly to come... Embarrassment flooded him and turned his face as red as his toolbox. Would it happen again? He could recall the words of his pappy... First time is chance, second time's a coincidence, and third time's a pattern.
A quiet knock on the door to his workshop answered his silent pleading, and it opened with only a slight hesitation. Booted heels clicked very, very softly against the tiled floor of the engineer's space. His back was to the newcomer and the Texan didn't move as the other man came closer. As the other man wrapped lean arms around him and tongued the soft lobe of his left ear.
"Ceasefire, eh?" came the heated whisper, "Game on, then..." Engineer closed his eyes tightly, stiffening just a little at the contact. His hardhat was removed and kisses rained down upon his neck. God did he want to turn and face the man seducing him, but that felt like giving in. A hand rubbed over his crotch and he grunted quietly. Not yet.
"Snipes," he said, and nuzzled his head backwards just a little. The older man turned him forcefully and leaned in to kiss him, passionate and insistent. Engineer couldn't help but moan into the Australian's mouth. This would be the third time.
He didn't understand how, or even why, it had happened. He was lonely out here, sure. They all were. It had been eight months that they'd been locked in this... simulation. Offered a ridiculous sum of money to participate in an experiment (the testing of new equipment, they said) and he'd accepted. The debt collectors were getting real fussy about the money they owed the hospital for his mother... A year's work in this secret research and they'd have those bills more than paid off, maybe with money left over for a new house.
Now here he was being felt up by an Australian like he was some sort of queer. And then he'd kiss back like a queer, and maybe suck Sniper off again like a queer, and...
He could remember his indignation the first time, the anger. Sniper had just stormed him like a hurricane, wrapping him up in those impossibly strong arms and fucking him like he hadn't been fucked since those lazy days of summer... Those days during his boyhood, when the air was warm and sweet and conduicive to a teenager's experiments.
Engineer's strong hands rested on Sniper's shoulders, rubbing and massaging thoroughly as their kiss continued. He could feel his coveralls being unhooked and then the material pooled around his ankles. Hands skimmed up under his shirt and he groaned as rough fingers toyed mercilessly with his nipples.
But this wasn't an experiment, was it?
"Snipah, please... ah can't take yer teasin'..."
"Is that so?" Quickly, he was divested of his briefs and then a firm hand wrapped around his already erect shaft, pumping him steadily as he was pushed backward. His ass met a counter and he was pinned hard against it before he was being spun and bent over.
This time was going to be quick. Like the first time Sniper had jumped him. But he really hadn't fought at all, had he? Despite his words of protest and his confusion, his body wanted it more than anything, more than any woman, more than his own wife.
Wet fingers probed into him, quick but successful in their job of stretching him open. Then the Australian's cock was sliding inside of him and he felt like he was going to scream from the delicious agony. His fingers scratched wildly over the metal counter, finding no purchase, and he cried out as the thrusts began. You'd think, for all his patience on the battlefield, Sniper would be patient in the bedroom. Slow and steady instead of fast and ruthless, brutal and greedy.
Quickly, almost but not quite painless, the slender cock fucked him with hard strokes. Sniper's hands clutched Engineer's strong hips, keeping him still. Engie could hear the older man grunting with effort. The metal was cold, so cold against the bare skin of his arms, but he barely noticed it for the continuous pounding that rocked his senses.
"Snipah..." he pleaded. It didn't hurt, no, it felt fucking wonderful and the Texan never wanted it to stop. Warm breath licked his spine as his shirt was pushed up his back, and hungry lips tasted each vertebra. He resorted to just shuddering in his lover's grasp.
"Y'feel so good, mate... 'mon, let me hear you cry m'name a bit more, ay?"
The thrusts of his hips mimicked the cadence of Sniper's words and Engie convulsed hard. He started to push back weakly against the cock inside him, groaning with pure bliss. He was so close but Sniper was holding back - purposely, he knew. By now he knew what the assassin wanted to hear; his own name.
But he didn't want to give in yet. As much as he wanted to cum, he couldn't deny the deliciousness of the pounding he was receiving and he wasn't ready for it to be over.
"Ah... motha of God... please," he whispered breathlessly, egging Sniper on subliminally by wiggling his hips just a little.
"Please what, ya mongol?" Teeth nipped at the sensitive neck and the Australian inhaled deeply. Musky, like sweat just starting to sour, and beer, and oil. Their engie was, as always, just on the decent side of filthy. The warm, clenching walls folded tightly around his cock, welcoming him with each thrust home.
Long fingers grabbed Engie's hips harder and shifted him up, higher onto the counter, opening him up for a new angle. All traces of self-control disappeared as new pleasure erupted within the prostrate American and he called out for more.
"Jus'... fuck me, Snipes. Fuck me hard!" that deep voice pleaded. There was nothing submissive about it, nothing sentimental. This was hormone-fueled rutting and nothing more.
Sniper didn't need told twice. The knuckles of his fingers went white as he slammed home again, again, again, Engineer wriggling and sobbing in his grip as he fucked the younger man senseless.
"Scream m'name, Truckie, c'mon."
Moments later Sniper's demand was fulfilled as his partner went over the edge with a howl. Engineer clamped down impossibly hard on his shaft as he came and for a moment the marksman thought he was going with. But no, he managed to hold on, and continued to fuck Engie even as the stocky man relaxed around him. An aftershock rippled the Texan's body and, at last, sent Sniper into the abyss.
He growled, long and low and punctuated with grunts, as he filled the engineer with his seed. Finally he was spent and he disengaged with a gruff sound.
Engie felt himself being scooped up, carried. Unexpected, considering how wiry the Australian was and how thick he was. He was carried into his adjacent quarters and softly deposited upon the bed. He heard the quiet shush of clothing being removed, and then the warm form slid in beside him, wrapping around him.
"Snipah..." he murmured as lips captured his own for a hot moment.
"Mmm?" was the other man's reply. Engineer sighed as he was snuggled up to the furred chest.
"Why are y'doin' this?"
"Might as well ask why yer allowin' me. Idn't it enough t'just accept it?"
The American was silent. Sniper had an excellent point. Dismissing the issue for now, he allowed himself to relax in the warm arms. They could blame it on the hormones, on the adrenaline, on the being-without-a-woman for eight months.
-_-_-_- Spah's sappin' mah sentry! -_-_-_-