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No. 2672
probably the last part and it's sort of more about the fluff than the porn... oops!
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When Scout had asked Spy to teach him how to dance, Spy could hardly bring himself to believe that he was being serious.
"Well," he said, running through all the dances appropriate for a young American man. "What kind of dancing were you thinking of, minou?"
He blew some smoke out the window in one of the more secluded rooms of the BLU base, sitting on the windowsill and sifting through a stack of records Scout was kind enough to bring him. Scout was busy shrugging to himself and staring at the ground, undoubtedly trying to think of just /one/ dance he had heard of. Though Spy wasn't fond of indecisive men, he was willing to make an exception this time. It was always possible he'd be able to break Scout of this habit (not to mention countless other undesirable ways of life), if they kept meeting. Spy considered, for just a moment, that maybe he'd like to tell Scout that they were...
No. He was unable to think of a reasonable time to tell Scout that he had been in the company of his father, and Scout wasn't about to forget their sexual encounters any time soon. Though he was no genius, he was smart enough to be able to string those two things together. The thought of losing his son again was enough to make any man cry, and Spy only noticed he had started kneading his temples with his free hand when Scout pointed it out to him.
"Hey, man, you okay?"
"Hm? Oh, oui, I am fine," Spy said, quickly removing his hand and returning it to the records. He flipped through a few quickly to make it look like he had been concentrating on the task at hand. "You never answered my question, by the way, Scout."
"I don't wanna sound like a dork or nothin'," Scout said, pulling the bill of his hat over his eyes and glancing away. "But I kinda wanted to learn some fuckin' ballroom dancin' or somethin' like that. You know, like how they do it all cool in the movies."
Spy grinned as he tapped some ash out the window, standing and walking over to Scout, quickly masking his smile for a more authoritative expression; he was looking the boy up and down, pretending to size him up, and felt himself begin to smile again when he saw Scout suddenly became very serious about the whole thing. Spy circled around him, appearing more predatory than normal, until he reached Scout's side. He put an arm around the boy and gave his shoulder a little squeeze, gazing outside wistfully.
"I am not so sure you can handle such a thing, mon puce," Spy teased, though his tone let on none of his playful intentions.
"Why the fuck not?" Scout crossed his arms and looked up at Spy, chewing on his lower lip. "It's not like I'm not good with coordination' or nothin'."
"This is true, but dancing is hard work," Spy said. "Not unlike a sport."
"But I'm fuckin' good at sports!" said Scout, bumping Spy in the chest with his hand agitatedly. "You know that. I'm not any lame quitter, if that's what you're thinkin'."
After a thoughtful pause, he added, "Hell, I bet I could just jump straight to the hard shit and I'd be awesome."
Spy, more than willing to take Scout up on the offer, returned to the stack of records for a final sift through them. By the time he had turned around and reached Scout again, the jaunty sound of a waltz was floating through the air, setting the pace for any, as Scout put it, "hard shit". Scout wasn't looking as confident when Spy took his hands and raised them, shoulder level, and gave the boy a short briefing.
"This should be appropriate. You're a fast boy, a Viennese should be nothing for you," Spy remarked, tapping one of Scout's legs with his foot. "Now, this foot first..."
Scout was relieved to see that Spy wasn't moving all that fast, just a simple forward and back motion, not unlike the dancing Scout had done at his high school prom. Much like then, he kept his eyes focused on their feet, unsure of what would happen if he were to scuff one of Spy's shoes. And, also much like prom, Scout was quickly bewildered by Spy's sudden change in pace as the music swelled to something cheerful, and as he Frenchman spun them around, Scout felt as though he were going to be sick.
Spy moved his legs without any hesitation, guiding Scout this way and that at an alarming rate ("Hey, man I thought waltzes were supposed to be slow!") and as the Boston boy began to trip over his own feet, Spy couldn't help but laugh.
"Je ne comprends pas! Your mother was excellent at this!" he said, his mouth running before his brain had the chance to realize what he had said. He cursed under his breath as Scout suddenly looked up, his brow furrowed intensely.
"What about ma?" he asked, stumbling into Spy's chest.
"From what I have heard of her from you," he said quickly, shifting his hands to Scout's midsection and lifting him up gracefully, continuing the dance as normal. "She sounds like a very good dancer."
"Yeah, I guess she was," Scout replied, looking back to his feet and trying desperately to keep up, more walking quickly alongside Spy than anything. "Fuck! What is with this stupid dance?!"
Spy slowed, heart pounding from the accident that almost just happened, but still kept a firm grip on Scout's hands. They were dancing at a more reasonable pace now, Scout leaning his head against Spy's chest more out of exhaustion than anything, and Spy desperately hoping his heartbeat wasn't as loud as it was in his ears. He scolded himself inwardly for being so careless, taking a moment or two to gather his composure.
"This is what happens when you are cocky, cheri," he said quietly, now rocking the boy to and fro more than anything. Scout grumbled in general disapproval, and said nothing.
The record had stopped, but the two stayed there in silence a while longer. Spy became aware, very suddenly and uncomfortably, that he was a bit overheated. He wasn't surprised, as it was a typical sweltering day out, and he was wearing a suit. The leather gloves didn't help much; at least they were preventing Scout from realizing how sweaty his palms were.
"Scout," Spy said suddenly, causing the boy to jump. "Go put another record on, will you?"
Scout nodded and let go of Spy, soon going through records he knew nothing about. Spy figured this would give him enough time to air himself out a bit, as he hated feeling anything less than squeaky clean. He loosened his tie and took off his gloves, letting those fall to the ground, and, tentatively, pulled his mask off. He ran a hand through his hair, looking into a mirror to his right and trying to find the styling where he looked sexiest. His eyes quickly wandered back to Scout, who was muttering darkly under his breath and was, no doubt, worried about his selection of music. Spy allowed his gaze to slip from Scout's shoulders down to his back and to his ass, to his exquisitely muscled legs and back up again. Spy clicked his tongue quietly as he realized what a terrible thing it was that he was jealous of his son's perfect rear.
While he was pondering this, Scout turned around. He looked at Spy, swore loudly, and forgot all about the record.
He rushed over to Spy, taking his face in his hands and staring at him, wide-eyed, as though he had only just noticed other human beings. To make sure he was real, Scout ran his fingers along Spy's face, tracing his jawline with a few and gently running a thumb over his lips. Spy said nothing, unable to produce a sentence even if he wanted to. His cheeks were slightly flushed, the only real indicator of how nervous he was feeling. Surely, the boy would realize...
"Holy /fuck/," Scout finally said, staring Spy straight in the eyes. "You're..."
Spy gulped loudly, and prepared himself for the shitstorm that was inevitably going to follow. Scout would never want to talk to him again.
"You're fucking gorgeous, man."
Spy opened and closed his mouth uselessly a few times, surprised more than anything, and put a hand on Scout's. When he finally managed to murmur a soft "merci", Scout began again.
"Shit! You look like one of those European models! Goddamn it, you probably are one, you frog, how the fuck can you not masturbate to yourself everyday? I mean-"
Spy had put a finger to the boy's lips.
"Scout, please," he said. "That is quite enough."
Scout smiled a bit bashfully and shrugged in apology. He studied Spy's face for a few moments more, gears working in his head as fast as they could manage, his eyes narrowed and his lips pursed ponderously.
"You look really familiar, too," he said, running a hand through Spy's hair.
Spy looked at the boy sadly, wiping his eyes preemptively before any tears had the chance to form. Scout, confused by this display, took Spy's face in his hands again and tilted it slightly, so they were looking at each other again.
"Spy? What's wrong, man?" he asked. Spy looked at him, failing miserably to reply "nothing" when he noticed how earnest his son looked at that moment, how genuinely concerned he was.
"Je t'aime, mon ange," Spy murmured, drawing Scout into his arms and hugging him tightly. "I love you so, so much."
Scout smiled gently, kissing away the tears that Spy hadn't noticed he was crying.
"Hey, don't get all weird about it," Scout said, touching his nose to Spy's. "I guess I'm not a good dancer after all if I brought you to tears..."
Spy shook his head and smiled weakly. "Non, that is not it at all."
He leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on Scout's lips, pushing against his chest until they reached the wall a few feet away. Scout grinned and took Spy's wrists in his hands, turning the tables as he quickly switched places with the man, pinning him against the wall.
"No way, man," Said Scout, already at work unbuttoning Spy's jacket. "It's my turn."
Spy cursed under his breath, almost afraid at what this would entail. Scout hadn't heard it, and was feverishly picking at the buttons on Spy's shirt now, breath quickening. Spy was attractive enough to him on a normal day, but there was just something about Spy without his mask that made Scout want him even more. He couldn't shake the feeling that he had seen Spy another time in his life, and it was precisely this air of mystery that Scout so admired in the older man. Finally undoing the last button, Scout pulled Spy's shirt open and ran his hands along his chest, fingers splayed and still a bit sweaty.
Scout continued like this for a bit, kissing Spy's chest and muttering his quiet approval, until he realized there had been no interaction on Spy's end. He looked up, about to tell Spy to get the fuck on with it until he saw his expression. It was something like sadness, Scout thought, or maybe regret. Then again, he looked a little relieved, too. It was just as hard to judge his mood as when he had the goddamn mask on.
They looked at each other, each wearing their own strange expression, until Scout slapped Spy playfully across the cheek. Spy jumped, swearing loudly and snapping to attention as Scout laughed and roughed up Spy's hair.
"Pay attention to me, goddamn it," Scout said. "I'll be rough with you like you like."
Spy could hardly refuse this offer.
Scout turned the Frenchman around, tying his hands together with none other than Spy's tie, before using one of his own hands to keep his head pressed against the wall. Spy was surprisingly calm in spite of all this, something Scout wasn't enjoying all that much. He reached around and unbuttoned Spy's pants, pulling them down just enough so that his ass was showing. Scout raised his hand, nearly giggling with glee, and paused a moment before bringing his palm down on Spy's ass with a loud smack.
Spy cursed loudly, his fingers clenching the same way his teeth did, a bright red mark appearing where Scout's blow had landed. Scout was surprised at this reaction: he had figured Spy had had his ass slapped at least /once/ in his life, but from the looks of things it was as though either Scout was the first or he had a very sensitive rear. Both of these possibilities pleased the boy, who brought his hand down swiftly again, groaning softly as Spy yelled in pain again. Admittedly, Scout did have a rather strong strike.
Scout paused only to run his hand up Spy's ass and under his shirt, traveling the length of the man's back. As he leaned forward slightly to accommodate these movements, his erect cock pressed against Spy's leg through his pants, a sensation that made both of them moan in a similar way. They glanced at each other - Spy turning his head as best he could - and laughed quietly, Scout quickly undoing his pants.
"I wish I could take your pants off, too," he said quietly, giving Spy's ass a firm squeeze. The hand holding his head against the wall swiveled slightly, in turn grinding Spy against the wall a bit forcefully. "But I just don't have the fucking patience."
"I am not surprised," Spy said, Scout's hold on him turning him on more than he thought.
Suddenly, Scout removed his hand from Spy's head and placed both of them on his hips. He lifted Spy' shirt up again and kissed his back as he began to fuck him, Scout's cock much bigger than it felt days before - Spy couldn't help but whine softly as it entered him, slowly the first time. Scout enjoyed this reaction, taking his sweet time as he went back and forth, Spy's noises nothing short of music to his ears, and soon he was becoming faster, his hands planted on Spy's midsection. It felt good to be the one doing the fucking, Scout realized, and wished greatly that he had tried this before.
He looked down at Spy's back, so beautifully white and defined with barely a scratch on it, the muscles tensing and relaxing along with Scout's movements. He sped up, going in all the way now, Spy growing louder exactly the way Scout wanted him to. Scout felt himself near orgasm, almost disappointed at how quickly he was progressing, but felt he could make up for it if he timed things correctly. Biting his lower lip and willing himself not to come just yet, he pulled himself out of Spy and turned the man around quickly and forced him to his knees, saying something not quite understandable about keeping his mouth open. Spy, bewildered and surprised by this sudden change of plan, was about to ask what Scout was doing when the boy came, hot and sticky, into Spy's mouth and onto his face.
Scout sank to his knees, smiling coyly and kissing Spy's lips, licking up some of his own jizz and swallowing it. Spy, meanwhile, was just as bewildered and not quite sure how he felt about this whole situation. He licked his lips, as well, grimacing as he tasted what was covering a good part of his face, and called Scout disgusting.
"It's not all mine, though," Scout remarked, pointing to Spy's jizz-covered chest, the source undoubtedly being his own cock.
"Merde," Spy said, wishing he hadn't come so early and feeling every bit embarrassed about it. Scout put his arm behind Spy, untying his hands before putting an arm around his shoulder, looking smug.
"Wasn't so bad, was it?" he asked.
"Non," Spy admitted, rubbing his forehead where it had come in contact with the wall. "But you were right about the wall, petit."
Scout laughed and nuzzled Spy's neck gently, running his fingers up and down his abdomen affectionately. Trying to be polite, Scout wiped Spy's face off with the first thing he found - which happened to be Spy's tie - and gave him another kiss. The boy studied Spy's features again, eyes glittering with nothing short of complete adoration.
"So, you love me?" Scout said, recalling words from earlier.
"I do," Spy said, pulling Scout close to him as he was so accustomed to doing.
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