Hey. This is my first attempt at a TF2 fic, as a kinda warning ahead, so the characters are probably really raw. It's supposed to be a two-parter and this is the first one. I'd very much appreciate constructive criticism, so I can file on all the glitches. Does there need to be a kink warning? It contains spanking. ---------------- It was a perfect day in Teufort. The sun was shining, not too bright, warm enough to balance out the wind that carried dusty particles across the soil. It was more of a soft breeze, very comfortable as it brushed across the Sniper's face while he sat in his nest. The rifle steadied on the old, split wood of the lookout and the fingers caressing the trigger, yet without pulling at the metal, he watched, studied, his surroundings. The RED team was weirdly lazy today. Not lazy as normal people would picture it. They were moving, running and swinging their weapons over their heads with angry howls, but there was a drag in those movements. Maybe it had been the heat that haunted Teufort since two weeks now. It made the limbs heavy and the heads weary, the mind too numbed by the pressing sun to care much for another Respawn, or two. The Sniper himself had almost been a victim to the heat too what with the unbearable temperatures in his nest, closer to the sky than the dry earth beneath. But today was a good day, a day to collect some headshots and bath in the sight of his enemies falling to their knees as lifeless corpses. “There you are, wankerâ€, he mumbled and followed the slow path of the RED Heavy as the man made his way across the bridge. Or attempted to, because in the next moment he slumped to the ground and blood soaked into the dry underneath. Quickly, Sniper reloaded, already searching for his next victim. The RED Soldier, who had been standing not too far from the Russian man, whirled his head in various directions, trying to make out the spot the bullet came from. A hoarse chuckle broke the comparative silence in the marksman's nest. This was all too easy. But just as he focused the spot between the Soldier's eyes, or where he thought them to be, a rush of blue blocked the sight and then the RED went down. Sniper cursed and gripped his rifle in an attempt to calm himself and not just shoot at his own teammate. It hadn't been the first time that Scout took his golden shot and instead maltreated the enemies' heads with quick, blunt hits. “Just doing his jobâ€, Sniper reassured himself silently. Though he could swear to have seen a toothy grin thrown into his direction, right after his enemy went down. But, it wasn't like the Scout wasn't grinning all the time. Like the obnoxious little bastard he was. The heat was just playing with his head. They were teammates, after all, and the boy couldn't be that stupid to step into the Sniper's sight. Oh well, maybe. He decided to not waste another thought on the little brat, it was better for his angrily pumping heart anyway, and searched for the next target. That Pyro was really brave, standing in the middle of the field, without any protection by it's teammates. Or, and the Sniper deliberately tugged at the trigger, just overwhelmingly stupid. /Bonk!/ “In God's bloody name!†He almost jumped up with a curse, hissing maledictions through his teeth as his eyes followed the fading blue into the enemy's base. “Now he's just asking for it.†For a moment Sniper's eyes rested on the form of the dead enemy Pyro, his neck twisted at an unnatural angle, before he gripped his rifle, and made his way towards the ladder. He was too old for those games. If the Scout wanted to screw their strategies over and play it solo, so be it, but he had a job to finish. Even if that required to give up his perfect lookout and move to closer combat. After the recent events, Sniper was just in the mood for some slashing with the ol' chop chop. “Victory!†The Announcer's voice bellowed over the field, followed by screams of joy and horror. Sniper harshly pulled at his Kukri and finally released it from the RED Medic's ribcage. Blood spurted out and drew a quick spotted line on his shirt. His last good shirt, now he had to do laundry. Sniper hated laundry. He pretty much hated everything that required elaborate attention to bodily care. Like, showering, or brushing his hair. Why would he brush his hair? He was wearing his hat most of the time anyway. With a gravelly sigh, he wiped the knife on the dead Medic's uniform, just before the body disappeard and only the print in the sand reminded of it having ever been there. As he stood, his other teammates approached him. Most of them were looking way worse than himself. Engineer gave him a pat on the shoulder, smearing some of the blood that had been clinging to his glove onto the Sniper's clothes. With a forced smile he returned the friendly gesture and made a note to himself to sneak into the laundry room when everyone else was asleep. He didn't exactly enjoy the thought of possible encounterings with his teammates which might and surely would end in a conversation about family, the war, women and guns. Not that he was completely opposed to the idea of social events – he just didn't need them as much as other people did. The short peace which had been given to his mind thanks to the laundry topic was sheer interrupted when his eyes landed on the Scout. The little guy was jumping around Demoman, arms wielding through the air in wild gestures, probably to underline his storytelling of a great kill he achieved today. Automatically, Sniper's body tensed and he swallowed the anger that gnawed on his nerves. Even if the Scout had deliberately jumped into his sight every chance he got, stolen his headshots and interrupted his concentration, forced him to go into battle, close combat and provoced the ending of his last shirt being dirtied, the kid was a teammate after all. Maybe it had been just one of those days where different happenings tend to mix together to a grotesque, misinterpreted situation which led to everyone feeling sorry for being a dick in the end. Though Sniper doubted that Scout would ever feel sorry for anything. He laid his train of thoughts down for the moment and followed the other BLU men back into their base. Today was Spy's turn to cook, and that usually meant minimalistic portions of something “green and healthyâ€. If he didn't want to go to bed with a rumbling stomach, he better hurried to get his hands on something slightly less rabbit-food-like. The thought quickened his movements, and the Scout and his behavior on the battlefield were forgotten for the moment. The inofficial diet the Spy had them all put on was especially hard today. Sniper looked at his empty plate, which had, just five minutes ago, looked not so much differently. The few pieces of broccoli and what the Frenchman had called vegetarian steaks were in the process of silencing the growl of his stomach, but without the satisfying feeling of having actually eaten anything. As he shot a quick look across the table, various faces mirrored his own expression. “Wellâ€, Medic started, “that vas... very nice, Spy.†With a wave of his gloved hand the Frenchman shooed the halfhearted compliment away. “Ah, it vas nozhing.†“Ayâ€, Demoman sighed, poking at a dry pea on his plate. “That the point.†“Come on, man, why can't you, like... cook real food, y'know? With meat, and potatoes, or something. Not this rabbit stuff!†Sniper took a deep breath, trying to steady himself for the discussion that would erupt from this comment. “And I believe you learned zhat from your mozher, non? Well, no wonder, she does seem to hav' a certain weakness for meat, of all kinds...†“What you just said 'bout my Ma, you sick frog?†The mood in the room changed from simply worn out and lightly annoyed to downright heated, and everyone who sat near to the two fighting troublemakers moved a few inches into the direction of their next neighbor. Before any of the remaining plates, of which they really didn't have that many anymore, fell victim to the fight, Sniper put a hand which was supposed to be calming on the Scout's shoulder. “Now, kidâ€, he started and gave an underlining squeeze, “that no way of talking here. We're all a lil' tired, so how about you two just drop it and save the messy callings, hm?†After a long day like this, after a /day/ like this, sympathy wasn't his top quality. It never really was, but the man knew when it would be better to forgo a conflict instead of running head first into it. Apparently, Scout didn't share this view. “Take ya hands off me!†With a harsh shrug he shook of the Sniper's hand, leaning away in what should be disgust. “It's not like you should care 'bout your ass getting shown off.†Sniper raised his brows in surprise. “What was that?†“Yeah, you heard me, ol' man. You're just too slow to grab ya own shots, instead have me running up and actually do something! Friggin' look at you – sitting in ya nest, like a crazed gunman and not even hitting anything. No wonder we never get to any results, what with you just wasting space up there! Hey, next time, just let me do the job. I'll show ya how real professionals handle this.†Sometimes, different happenings tend to mix together to a grotesque, misinterpret situation, and then it's better to take the role of the adult and lay that conflict down. But, on days like these, there was just no sense in avoiding what had been building up inside of him over hours and days, had his heart racing and bile jumping up his throat in blinding anger. Sniper had standards, he was a /professional/ - but right now, he could spit on all of that. It was like the rest of the room didn't exist for him anymore, all he could see was the Scout's face and those annoyingly big buck teeth of his. His arm shot forward, too quick even for the Bostonian to realize what was happening. He tried squirming backwards, but fell against the hard shoulder of Heavy, who was watching the scene with slow dripping realization. That was when he had him. “Come here, ya little mongrel! I'll show ya how professionals handle little whimps like you.†His chair made a protesting squeaking sound as the metal slid over the hard floor, almost drowning the surprised yell of the Scout. With a last harsh pull he had the boy lose his balance, slipping off his own chair and landing chest first on the Sniper's lap with a choked “oomph!â€. The older man wasted no time in boring his elbow into the boy's back, raising a callous hand and letting it fly down onto his rear. Scout yelped. In the first moment of surprise he was too stunned to move, and Sniper used this to his advantage. His hand went down again and now the boy began to squirm. “What the--! Let me go, jeez, what the hell's wrong with you?†“You blocked my sightâ€, Sniper bellowed, pressing his elbow harder into the Scout's back and ignored the pained yelp this gained him. “You stole my shots! You made a fool out of me, in front of everyone! And you ruined my last good shirt!†Every word was punctuated by a hard hit across the youth's backside and after a while, the boy stopped squirming and clawing at the Sniper's legs, and instead just hang there, feet slipping over the floor in finding no purchase. “You. Little. Bloody. Mongrel!†The cap fell of Scout's head, the ear piece making a clacking sound as it hit and that's when his teammates freed themselves from their stunned state. “Herr Sniper!†Medic called and reached out to grab the furious man's hands just as it went up again. “Stop zhat, you're hurting him.†“Like he wouldn't deserve itâ€, Sniper hissed, trying to yank his hand free. “You know how he is, that little rat face! Don't tell me ya never wanted to give him a lecture now and then.†“Team knows how Sniper feelsâ€, Heavy interrupted and put a large hand onto the Sniper's back in an attempt to calm the man. “But leetle man does not deserve this. Lecture, yes, but humiliation, no. Let him go, had enough.†He felt his teammates' eyes on him, some filled with honest disapproval, other's looking like they would like to switch places with the Sniper. His gaze was switching between the different expressions, chest heaving with bowling anger and his hand still raised. The silent form of the boy on his lap was not moving an inch, only the little hitched pants coming from him reminding the men of his presence. A last look into the Medic's face convinced him to finally let his hand, slowly, drop. With his jaw clenched in frustration, he took his elbow from Scout's back and shifted to help him back onto his feet. His blond hair was ruffled and his cheeks as red as the enemies' shirts. Without the cap to hide his eyes Sniper could see the blunt expression in them, staring down at the floor. “What ya waiting for, kid?†he growled. “Go.†Scout flashed him a hateful look, lips pressed together so tightly they turned white, but then he whirled on his heels and stormed out of the silent room. His cap with the ear piece laid forgotten on the floor.
Well done! I absolutely can't wait for the continuation. SOme parts made me as frustrated as Sniper, other humiliated as the Scout, and the rest threw me torn between laughter and awe. Your writing is very smooth, and you know well how to build interest and action into your work just as you mend and boil the plot whenever it needs some action. I'll definitely be expecting to hear from you soon. The only note I'd give you is to perhaps a bit more thinking or emotion on the Sniper's part. Anger is easy to work with, but know that not always anger is the only thing whirling in one's mind at moments like this. But other than this, you did a marvellous job! TBC, I hope? Keep writing!
One thing I liked about this fic was the way you captured the two characters emotions. I was actually feeling sorry for the both of them by the end! Sniper, because he has to put up with Scout being a git, and Scout because Sniper's patience finally broke. Something you should consider in the future is perhaps getting the help of a beta. There were a lot of mistakes in here attributed to not proof reading enough, or just not having a clean pair of eyes look over your work before it's posted. The characterizations were well done, though the one thing that threw me off was Medic's concern for Sniper hurting Scout. Unless this is the motherly version of the Medic that a lot of people have come to characterize him as. Glad to see that you're asking for concrit, and hope that you'll take what you can from mine! Looking forward to the second part.
Nice to see a fic where spanking is actually humiliating and upsetting, and not just arousing. (Of course, if it is arousing, that's nice too.)
>>2 Thank you so much. And I tried to vary Sniper's feelings in this part (hopefully without turning it into a clusterfuck). >>3 Yes, a beta! Sadly, I've never been very lucky with finding one. But if you had any idea, suggestion, where to look, then I'd be really happy. English isn't my first language and in the heat of the moment I tend to forget how to grammar. And, Medic - it is true, I grew fond of the motherly fandom version. But I'll watch to make him not too much of a hen next time. Sadly, I didn't have much time to work on the second part this week. But I didn't want to leave this fic unfinished, so. Thanks for the concrit, I tried to work with it and hopefully somewhat succeded. Well, anyway, here it goes. ---------------- Night had fallen upon Teufort. The heat of the day had worn off and Sniper suppressed a shiver as he made his way over the silent field. Luckily, his broken down van wasn't standing too far from the entrance, it took him barely some minutes to cross the dusty path, slip through the paled gate and down the silent corridors of the BLU base. At night, everything was different. The life that wired through the building like an invisible electricity line was reduced to a soft vibe. The only sounds echoing off the cold walls were snoring noises slipping through the gaps of the doors and a constant humming from Engineer's workshop down below. The sea bag with the pack of dirty laundry hung off his shoulder, it's weight pressing into his flesh. When he stood at the steps to the laundry room Sniper considered just throwing it down the stairs to ease that burden off. But he's come this far without stumbling upon any of his teammates, so better not tempt Lady Fortune any more than necessary. With a small sigh he climbed down the crooked steps. The laundry room was, regarding the number of men who would make use of it, markedly small. There were three washers, one dryer and an unstable looking ironing board with a cover. It's pattern consisted of playing kittens. Unceremoniously, Sniper dropped the sea bag to the floor and started looking though his laundry. For a second he thought about sorting it by colors, but since most of it was blue anyway he just pushed the whole load into one washer at once. Another moment of consideration, and then his current shirt followed, quickly pulled over his head and squeezed to the already big bundle inside the machine. As the machine started to pump water into it's barrel, Sniper sat down on the bench. It was an odd feeling being alone in the dimly lit room in the middle of the night, his sleeping teammates right above his head. Sniper rubbed his stubbly chin. After the incident with the Scout during dinner he had spent the rest of the day in his van. It gave him time to get away from the judgements of the other men, and a chance to sort through his own thoughts. At first, Sniper was more than convinced to have been in the right. The kid had provoked him and questioned his authority. They might be equal by rang, but Sniper was of the rather conservative type when it came to age and experience, both of which he had a lot more than the squirrelly little git. He deserved his respect and if anyone refused to show some, Sniper never shied away from getting it another way. Also, there was nothing wrong with a clap or to onto the backside. His own father used to do it every so often, and the Scout was a tough kid – he could handle it. But the memory of the boy's expression brought just the faintest gnaw of guilt. Sniper knew how hard the youth tried to earn his teammates appreciation, saw it every day on the field and back in the base. It wasn't easy to be the youngest among a group of way older men, each of them skilled by season in their job. Thus the lack of a role model. Sniper knew about the boy's family story, heard of it during flight conversations, so his behavior just fitted his past. Still, it was far easier to look down on the boy and judge him by his big mouth and obvious lack of life experience. Guiltily, Sniper admitted that he had reacted with the same hotheadedness he so much despised about the kid, and that it had led to the worst decision he could have made in that situation. Though, maybe, stabbing him may have been worse, a little. After what happened, apologizing to him would probably just make it worse, poking a wound in Scout's pride he better left untouched, but he would treat him more nicely. Maybe even actually listen to one of the Bostonian's stories, with attention. He ran a calloused hand over his face, feeling the tiredness of the day pulling at his muscles. A night spent with laundry instead of sleep, that would require a doubled amount of coffee in the morning. It was when his eyes began drooping, the washer in front of him starting to blur, that he heard the sound of steps in the distance and then the door to the small room opened. Sniper looked up, and met the figure of Scout standing in the doorway. He seemed just as unpleasantly surprised as the older man. With his hand still on the doorhandle, he snorted, ready to turn around and muttering something inaudible under his breath. “Wait!â€, Sniper called, out of reflex. Scout turned around and Sniper realized he hadn't been counting with that. He scrambled his brain for a clever thing to say and settled on: “What are you doing here? It's the middle of the night.†He leaned against the cold metal door, the hairs on his arms standing up in a shiver. “Well, duhâ€, Scout commented and crossed his arms in front of his chest. He was dressed in a slightly oversized shirt, the emblem of a high school decorating the front. Sniper immediately remembered the day he got that package from home. The kid had seemed honestly and purely happy, not the smug or arrogant kind of joy displaying on his face, but a warming one as he pulled a shirt from between self-made cookies. He said it belonged to one of his older brothers. Sniper saw him sniff it when he thought no one was looking. That day he decided the little brat wasn't as bad as he always seemed. Too bad he didn't think of it this afternoon. “Could ask ya the same tho'â€, he muttered as his eyes wandered over to the empty sea bag in front of Sniper's feet. “Doin' laundry in the middle of the night. Ya real strange, koala humper, ya know that?†Sniper swallowed the salty comment dancing on his tongue and settled on a crooked smile. “Better than gettin' your ear talked off by Soldier for one an'a half hour.†“Yeah, whateverâ€, Scout grunted and turned to leave once again. “Won't disturb ya any longer, not that ya start hitting me again.†That sent yet another spark of guilt, accompanied with the usual tug of annoyance, through Sniper's system. He suddenly stood. Scout froze and they awkwardly stared at each other for a moment, waiting for the other one to make a move. Sniper was torn between lecturing the kid about his failure of the day or screwing his previous plan and just apologizing to him. He went for a middle kind of thing. “What happened earlierâ€, he started, “I shouldn't have done tha'. Wasn't right of me.†He let that statement hang in the air. Scout wasn't looking at him, he was weighing back and forth on his feet, eyes going into the distance again. “Damn rightâ€, he said finally. “Shouldn't have.†A sigh left the marksman's chest. At least he was listening to him. Could have stomped off just the same, but the Scout staying and listening, that was an achievement. He hurried to make a next step, knowing how quickly the boy could change his mind. “So, what were you doing down here? Not seeing any laundry in yer hands there, mate.†Scout pursed his lips, as if thinking his next words over. “Havin' a wankâ€, he stated bluntly, and now he was looking at Sniper. For a moment, the other man just stared in confusion, but then a smile began to crack on his lips. “Okay, kiddo, now really.†“I mean itâ€, Scout started to defend himself and took a small step away from the door. “It's farthest away from the rooms. Heavy's Commie snoring's not exactly tha' much of a turn on, ya get me? Not everyone's havin' such a grotty creeper van like yours. Gotta help me out another way.†It wasn't like he had a problem with talking about another man's junk business, they did that often with a round of beer, but it felt wrong talking with the Scout about it. After all, he was so /young/, barely of age there, and he had this look that reminded Sniper, every time, of how green the kid had to be. He was shifting on his spot, not sure of what to say next. Make a joke? Send him to bed? Maybe forget about his stuff and just walk past the youth to let him have his alone time? “That makes ya uncomfortable, hm?†Scout mused and smiled when Sniper just shrugged. “'s not what I expectedâ€, he admitted. “Wouldn't think of the laundry room to be the best room to do... to have one, ya know.†“Better than to be fed with witty comments the next morningâ€, Scout mumbled. “Not having a real problem with it, or anythin', but that French... always acts like he's been right there with me, it's creepy.†“You two really don't go along that wellâ€, Sniper stated. Scout nodded. “He's bringing up my Ma every time. That's low, even for a frog like him.†He remembered countless times when the boy had reacted very dramatically to one of the Spy's comments, most of them circling around his mother and her private activities. Now that he thought about it, Sniper probably wouldn't have reacted much different from the youth, maybe even worse. It's his sweet ol' Ma after all... “Next timeâ€, he suddenly said, “I'll lay him over my knee, what d'ya think?†He tried a small smile and Scout chuckled. “I'd like ta see thatâ€, he mumbled. They stood in comfortable silence for a moment, both of them letting the happenings go revue inside their heads. Then: “Ya got a good grip.†“What?†Sniper tore himself from the image of the French and looked up. The younger man just shrugged. “Usually, people are too shy for that. Like the doc, afraid to hurt 'n' stuff. Somehow thought of you to be the ruthless type of peep, but... was surprised ta see ya having the balls to actually do it.†The sound of the washer in the background filled the sudden silence in the room. Sniper blinked, made an unsure step, and blinked again. “You meanâ€, he started, “you planned all this?†Scout puffed. “Yeah, well, not in front of the whole team, y'know. Thought you'd be more of a creep and do it when no one's looking.†Sniper called up the picture of the Scout after he had let him go. The brutal blush on his face that had even flushed the skin of his neck, his gaze that had gotten into the distance, wearing a familiar bluntness... Sniper felt the anger starting to bubble up again. “Wankah!†he called out. “Ya used me, you little git.†“Uhm, if I remember right, it was you who all but dragged me into his lapâ€, Scout reminded him, but couldn't hide the tug at his lips while he spoke. Sniper just gawked, mouth slightly hanging open and staring at the face of the kid he had just thought of to be innocent and green and just not really /like/ that! “What's wrong, mate?†Scout asked, imitating Sniper's accent very poorly. “Feeling tha' twitch in your fingers again? I'm right here, everybody else's asleep, no one ta hear or see us. I can see how it gnaws on you.†“Yeah, gnawing to hit you in the faceâ€, Sniper growled. “Just, what is wrong with you?†“Hey, you started itâ€, Scout argued and took a step into the man's direction. Sniper didn't retreat, but he straightened his position, out of sheer habit. He didn't think of the Scout to start a fight in the laundry room, but, on the other hand, just a minute ago he thought of him to not be that... kinky. He had no other word for it. When it came to laying one over the knee, Sniper thought of blond girls, dressed in school uniforms with the skirt slipped up to expose their blank rear, their faces displaying an expression of surprise. He just couldn't fit Scout in there. Though it was tempting, somewhere. It belonged to the corner of the bedroom no one would talk about or even admit to liking it. The whole thing had a rawness to it Sniper sometimes lacked in his sexual encounters, especially lately, since there were no encounters at all. He looked at the figure in front of him. Scout tilted his head in a silent question, that small smile still lingering around the corners of his lips. “Ya little mongrelâ€, Sniper mumbled. “What else is going on in that tiny head of yours?†Scout didn't answer. He walked past him and sat down on the bench. “So, what'cha say, man?†he asked, leaning back on his hands and tipping his head up a little. “That's a once in a lifetime chance right here. If ya not too rusty for round two, that is.†Sniper raised an eyebrow. “Ya really want this? Doesn't matter you're getting it from me, not some nice girl to carry into marriage?†“Last time I checked there no girls aroundâ€, Scout shot back. “Besides, they're missing that grip o' yours. I'm not havin' a problem with it if you don't.†For a second, something like insecurity lit up in the youth's eyes. About what, Sniper couldn't quite muster up. He didn't know much about the kid, less his field of sexual experience, or his orientation for that matter. But who was he to care? He had had a few experiments of his own, most starting around Scout's age. They weren't all that bad and the memory lit a spark inside of him. “Awrightâ€, he mumbled and approached the bench. When he sat down, Scout swallowed and just the faintest hint of nervousness crept over his features. “Ya got any 'safe word', or something?†“Pffâ€, Scout made a derogatory sound, “I'll just bite ya if it gets too rough. But you'd probably break your rheumatism wrist first, so.†The snarky comment reminded Sniper of the opportunity this situation held: to blow off some of that steam that had built up over the few days. And the kid was /really/ asking for it this time, so he wouldn't have to feel bad for it either. With this pleasant thought in the back of his mind, Sniper said down next to the Scout. “Hop on thenâ€, he growled, opening his arms in fake invitation. Scout licked his lip once, gaze wandering over the man's clothed thighs before he leaned forward. It was just like during dinner, the kid's chest pressed against the Sniper's lap, legs hanging off and arms gripping the fabric underneath for balance. Sniper tilted his head to give the view in front of him a good, long look. “Ready?†“Do it, old manâ€, Scout taunted, and hissed when he felt the flat hand go down on his ass. “Aah, yeah, like that...†The marksman laughed low in his throat. Leaving the strangeness of the situation out of the picture, this day took a really good turn for him. He felt the boy jerk a little with every smack, the muscles in his tight backside twitch when his hand went down again and again. He had never done this before, and soon his own flesh began to prickle from the harsh contact, but Sniper kept going, somewhat reveling in the noises that came from the young man in his lap. They were just so incredibly /needy/. “Slowerâ€, Scout suddenly rasped, words slightly muffled by his mouth pressing against Sniper's leg. He could feel it dampen with the youth's hot breath, so close to his hip and a familiar stir began to spread through his groin. He slowed his rhythm and dared to let his hand linger just a little longer than necessary on the hot flesh. “Like that?†Scout just nodded, lips pressing against the rough fabric of Sniper's pants and his breath hitching slightly after every new flick. “Yeah, that's good, just... -ah!†The rest got cut off when a particular hard smack caught him by surprise. His toes curled at the slow retreat of the burning sensation and when the pain finally decreased, Scout glared back at the smug man. “Motherfuckerâ€, he hissed. Sniper chuckled and gave the sensitive flesh a playful squeeze. Damn, those wide pants surely hid just how tight the kid really was. “How about I take those off?†he mumbled suggestively and lightly tugged at the waistband of the Scout's briefs. There was a moment of hesitation, but then the runner nodded. When the fabric slipped over his thighs and exposed his reddened skin to the cool air, Scout hissed, partially because of the pain, but mostly because it felt just really, really good. He stilled when Sniper ran a rough finger over the crack of his ass. His flesh was so sensitive by this point every touch send another spark up his spine. “Ya surprise meâ€, Sniper admitted hoarsely, and massaged the spot on the runner's leg where ass and thigh met. “Would have never thought of you to swing that way.†“Seems like ya don't kno' much 'bout me, geezerâ€, Scout commented. “Now, wanna let this go cold, or?†“Nahâ€, he whispered sharply and lifted his arm again. The next smack pulled a moan from Scout and his blunt nails buried into the flesh of the Sniper's leg. “Yeah, that's good, now do it harder. C'mon, old man, show me what ya got!†Almost ruthlessly, the Sniper let his hands go down, again and again, hissing when the young man's voice slipped higher and he began to squirm in his lap. He felt something press against his other leg and suppressed the chuckle that threatened to leave his mouth. The boy was so utterly lost in the sensation right now, he didn't want to disturb that. It was too much of a pretty picture, having the noisy little runner in his lap, reduced to a moaning and whimpering mess. It really was a once in a lifetime experience, and Sniper would make sure to remember the picture for the rest of this war. He shoved the wide shirt over Scout's back and pressed his other hand onto the flushed skin. The hot touch went through his arm like a spark. “Don't stopâ€, Scout panted and shot him a quick glance over his shoulder. A visible blush had spread across his cheek and his pupils were dilated with lust. Sniper could have taken and bent him over right on the spot, but instead he kept on working his ass with repeating hits, rubbing over the reddened flesh and earning a loud hiss for that. “Look at youâ€, he growled and leaned forward, closer to the Scout's ear. “Taking it like a good boy. Ya know you deserved it, and ya know you like it. Ain't that right?†He let his breath ghost over the Bostonian's ear, and that's when the boy arched his back, fingers digging painfully hard into Sniper's leg and his mouth opened to a silent scream. Next thing the older man noticed was the dampness against his other leg. Great, now his pants were ruined too. As Scout laid still stretched out across his lap, trying to catch his fastened breath, Sniper ran a soothing hand over his back. His skin was so wonderfully smooth and soft, and he could feel the muscles move underneath. If the Scout did manage to keep his mouth shut he was kind of a good looking mate. “Ah, man, that was...â€, he started and made an attempt to lift himself off of the Sniper's lap. “Yeah, that was good. Thanks, Snipes.†“What?†Sniper laughed. “So, we're done now?†Scout bent to pick up his briefs and quickly slipped them over his hips, hiding the picture of his spent cock. He shrugged and stretched to let the bones in his back pop. “Yeah, guess we are, but, if you feel like it, you can drop by another time. What d'ya think?†“I think you ruined my pants and leave me sitting here consumed with lustâ€, Sniper blurted, trying to keep the pout from his face. But the little git just laughed as he strolled toward the door with slightly unsure steps. Before he left, he gave the man sitting on the bench a last long look. “Well, apology accepted, koala humperâ€, Scout said smugly and added: “And as I said, my door's open, in case ya need to kill some time during... laundry. Maybe I could return the favor then?†With that he left, leaving the door gently fall shut and a confused and still hard Sniper to sit in front of the turning washer.
Ah! Fantastic! It's nice to see this turn of events. What I really liked about this, oddly enough, is the fact that you did not forget the place they were in and the reason for Sniper's arrival to that place: to do laundry. I like how he's very displeased with his own shirt that he actually takes a moment to consider whether to throw it to the laundry, it adds some comic relief! And of course, the pants by the end- it reminds you why he's there in the first place! It's very ironic, and of course made me laugh. Also, Scout and Sniper discussed shortly whether having a code-word for this. It was amusing to see that in the end Scout said "...in case ya need to kill some time during...laundry." It's like this word became the code-word, which was noticeable and very in place. Apart from that, I like this a lot. It's nice to see someone's who's not afraid to wait a bit with the serious stuff, and lingers about the limit between kinky and hot. Thumbs up for that. I hope you continue to write, and you have my full and honest support. Well done!
"Laundry" was the code word my first roommates and I used for sex (we were not having it, but we would certainly joke about it). This is fantastic, I also support this fic, and do hope you continue! :D
This was awesome! Scout does need to be spanked. Often.
This was simply amazing! I love the idea of Scout being spanked (he really does deserve it) and it just seems so right for Sniper to be the first one to lose his patience and do it, hehe. I really liked the flow of the story and the beginning was very well done, you described Sniper's feelings really well. The both of them were very in-character as well, and I can't quite believe this is your first TF2 fic since it's just so well done. Your writing style is great and seems so real, not too much, but not boring either. Just perfect. I could go and and on about how well you described all the scenes, especially the last part was great. But now I'd like to ask if you still need a beta, because I wouldn't have anything against doing that! If you would like me to, of course. I detected a few mistakes here and there, but nothing grave. Like a word or a letter missing, that's all. It would still be great though if I could help you, maybe with the story itself, too (like the characterization and everything). Don't know if it's of any help, but my first language is German, so if you ever wanna write something with the Medic, or if he shortly appears like here, I could help you out if you want to write something in German. Anyways, I think that's all... it's fine though if you already found a beta or don't want one anymore. If you do, I can give you my e-mail adress or something :) So, all in all, great job and please keep writing!