1 . Name: lawlspy @ 2012-11-24 22:45

Something I wrote as a gift for Des and was inspired by one of her Spoovy pics as found here:

http://donc-desole.tumblr.com/image/35265205593

Since there's not enough Spy/Heavy in the world, I figured I'd share here, too. I can't porn my way out of a paper bag of dicks, but oh well.

Warning: This story contains references to Russian literature. Brace yourself.

-

Spy’s nearly asleep when someone knocks on the door and opens it without waiting for a response. He rolls onto his side, yawning, and squints when harsh fluorescent light floods his bedroom. There’s no need to complain. Everything plunges into darkness again with a soft click. Spy listens to the other man’s breathing for a moment before he reaches for his disguise kit. If he shows any hint of impatience or irritation, it will be all over.

“So,” he tucks a cigarette between his lips, “care to ‘ave a seat?”

There’s a long pause. “Spasiba.”

Heavy approaches the bed hesitantly, hands clutched in front of his waist like a timid schoolboy. He sits down tentatively on the corner of the mattress, stealing furtive looks at the Frenchman’s exposed chest. Spy fishes out his lighter and holds it in front of his face to highlight his features. The rush of nicotine is soothing and he sits back once his cigarette’s lit, elbows propped on his knees, and regardes his visitor cautiously.

“Smoke?” He holds out the cigarette, already knowing the answer.

“Doctor says it bad.”

“Ah.” Spy tosses the covers back as an invitation. “Is dat why you’re late?” He tilts his head, balancing his cigarette between his fingers. “More conversations with Doctor?”

Heavy shakes his head. “Leetle Engineer needed help vit Alarm-o-Tron.” At Spy’s frown, he shrugs. “Is broken.”

“I’m surprised Soldier didn’t draft your services to protect de base in de meantime.”

“He tried,” the Russian replies with grim satisfaction. He puts his hands on his thighs and bends forward, eyes fixed on the door. “But man who burns my books does not get help from heavy veapons guy.”

“I remember.” Spy takes a long drag on his cigarette. “Velik telom, da mal delom, da?”

Heavy’s lips twitch upward. “Da.”

Neither one speaks for a while. Spy dawdles with his smoke while Heavy inches towards him. Both pretend not to notice. When Heavy is nearly hip to thigh with him, Spy reaches over and puts his disguise kit on the dresser. When he leans back, the Russian tips over like a chess piece and lays his head on Spy’s exposed chest. Arms large enough to crush a full-grown man curl around his waist.

Spy rests his chin on the vulnerable curve of Heavy’s head. “So,” he murmurs, “what will it be tonight?”

“Journey Beyond Three Seas?”

“Again?”

“Mm.” Heavy’s hand migrates south. “Is favorite.”

Spy’s face warms when that hand strokes his inner thigh. “Nikitin it is.”

Heavy is not a man to be rushed. His fingers are large and calloused, and push into every crease of Spy’s pajamas like an iron. As Nikitin travels south, so does Heavy’s mouth. Spy tries to concentrate on the story, which he memorized as a PoW in Vietnam, while his pants slowly slide off of his hips. Heavy’s stubble rasps against his belly as the Russian leans onto his right side and yanks them off. Spy’s right stocking garter nearly follows.

“Mm.” Heavy forces Spy’s leg to bend forward. “These also favorite.”

Spy pauses in the middle of the third verse. “I knew you’d appreciate dem.”

Heavy chuckles and rolls right so his weight pins Spy to the mattress. He removes a small tube from his pocket and sets it by the pillow. “Da,” he grunts, “Heavy appreciate.”

It’s the moment Spy has waited for. The crush of warm skin against his cock is amazing. The only light in the room comes from underneath the door, but he can see the change in Heavy’s face. The set of his shoulders. The increasing strength of his grip. He’s himself again and all the pent up anger and frustration is surfacing.

Spy grabs his ear and hisses, “Get undressed.”

“Hmph.” Heavy’s nostrils flare, but he sits up and obeys. “Little man is testing my patience.”

Spy doesn’t reply. He only has a limited time before Heavy’s attention hits him full-force. He takes Medic’s liberated medical lubricant and prepares himself. It’s ungainly on the bed, like trying to wipe his own ass lying down, but necessary. He manages to loosen himself up for two fingers when Heavy gets off the bed, grabs his ankles, and drags him towards the edge of the mattress. Cold air hits his wet skin. He’s exposed. Helpless.

Heavy rubs lubricant up and down the length of his cock. “Keep going.”

Spy grits his teeth, but it’s his turn to obey. “I departed from de golden-domed Cathedral of our Savior….”

The blunt tip of Heavy’s erection presses against his ass. All of the muscles in his back are poised.

Spy shivers and Goosebumps ripple down his arms. “‘aving taken leave of de Grand Duke of Tver.”

Heavy thrusts into him without warning. Spy shouts before he can help himself and digs his fingers into the mattress. Heavy leans over him and begins in earnest. It hurts. Each stroke tears a little more flesh. But his cock bobs between their bellies. The bed groans while Spy smothers his voice into Heavy’s shoulder.

The Russian pushes him back down. “Keep going.”

“I travelled down de Volga and arrived at Kal, ah, Kalyazin.” Spy gulped air as heat spread into his neck and belly. “At de Monastery of de ‘oly Trinity and de Martyrs….”

Heavy’s thrusts kept sawing at his insides, but once he found Spy’s sweet spot, he hits it mercilessly.

“And, ah, obtained blessings from de Father Superior and…and….” Spy reaches for his own cock, but Heavy grabs both his wrists and uses his weight to pin them against the bed.

“Keep going,” he says.

“From Kalyazin, I sailed to Uglich and from, ah, Uglich I was allowed to depart unhindered.” Sweat soaks Spy’s mask, stings his eyes, but he feel the intensity of Heavy’s stare. “Den I arrived at Kostroma and, bearing, ah, a passport from the Grande Duke, ah, I was allowed to leave untroubled.”

“Keep going.”

Spy grimaces. He can’t hear himself think over the slap of Heavy’s hips against his ass.

“I, ahh, sailed down de Volga, passing Kazan with no trouble, and entered de, ahh, river Buzan. I met dree pagan Tartars, who falsely informed, ahh, me dat de Sultan lay in wait with 3,000 soldiers.”

Heavy hefts Spy’s legs over his shoulders for a better angle. “Keep going.”

Spy reaches for his own cock and begins to stroke. “Dey, pagan Tartars, took de craftans, ahh, and betrayed us, ahh, to de Khan. And my companions and I, ahhh, left our boat and….”

The tension in Spy’s belly snaps. He comes in gouts against Heavy’s stomach, who leans forward and thrusts hard enough to make the bed thump against the wall. He braces himself with his right knee, tilts Spy’s hips upwards, and finishes with four mattress-shaking strokes.

Spy doesn’t move when Heavy rolls off of him. They just lay side-by-side panting in the darkness while the air cools their skin.

“‘eavy?”

“Mm?”

“Would you like to finish dis book tomorrow?”

Heavy laughs quietly. “Da.”