>>28 Exactly what I thought, the whole way through.

I love how you do this, Anne. It's like...a reading orgasm. You keep us from it for sooooo long, but it feels soooo good when you finally let us have it.

You're a terrific lover writer.

Thank you, all! Yes, this is the sexual frustration fic.

Ch.VI- Each Moment of the Day

Another week went by, of business nearly as usual. Usual, except for times when I let myself be caught, just for another slow death at his hands. Slow, at least, in comparison to some swift kills. It is a certain point of sick pride, to be the only one he kills intimately. No bullet through the skull from miles away for me, only a punishing grip and hard impalement on whatever large, utilitarian blade he’s strapped to his thigh for the day’s work. The kukri is my favourite—that awful wooden thing hurts worse, not so sharp or so clean going in—and I think his as well.

The only scars he leaves are on my psyche. I find myself more and more fascinated. I have seen him, in evenings, stretched out on a roof across the way, absorbing the last of the sun as he reads, and I wonder if he enjoys the same passages I do. I have lurked in the entry to his nest and seen him lay his gun aside to stretch, heard the crack and pop of his spine in the brief reprieves he gives himself, before settling to his task again. I whisper ‘guess who’ and sink my knife into his back, when I need the kill more than I can afford another death, but I almost prefer being caught some days. Being thrown against the wall or down on the floor with his weight upon me, our dance growing ever more Freudian in my mind. All the panting and the penetration, I suppose.

I thought I could pull back from it… that if I did not draw it out, did not torture him-- gave him fewer chances to wrestle for his life, yes, but also give myself fewer chances to take in any details of him—I thought this interest would wane. No more stroking my weapon along his cheek, no more innuendo, no more tripping him and following him down when he falls, no straddling. My professionalism makes for an occasional palliative, but it is no cure. Maybe if I thought he was some idiot, it could be, but we’ve gone past that…

I didn’t expect to see him that weekend—there are few places we both frequent, and he hardly had need of the bookstore just a week after everything I left with him. I didn’t even go into the city… maybe that was my mistake. I only needed gasoline, and I only went as far as the nearest station, where I spotted his van before I saw him.

He was at the payphone, not the pump, his van parked against the side of the building, and he seemed equally surprised to see me, though he relaxed into the same easiness we’d been fighting.

“Does your base not have telephones?”

“Don’t be stupid.” Half a smile tugged at his lips, then disappeared. “Yeah, we do, but… dunno. Don’t like my business turning into everybody’s. You understand that, though, don’t ya?”

I shrugged. “I have no one to call. But certainly I understand. Bad news?”

“Never news, exactly.” He shook his head. “Just rows. Nothing new there…”

“Well why make the call if you know that is all you can expect?”

He blinked. “They’re my parents.”

“Ah.”

“Even you’ve got parents.”

“Not since the war.” I admitted.

Disbelief and disgust flashed across his face. “What, BLU makes you cut off all contact with your family?”

“Not this war. The war.” I waved away the new surprised horror and its attendant guilt. “I will admit, it makes my profession much easier, as it would have made theirs, had they not had me, or each other. Best to avoid giving your enemies leverage like that…”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t—“

“Of course you didn’t. I never told you. I never told anyone. My past is shrouded in mystery. Now stop apologizing. The wounds have long since healed over.”

The fact that I’d gone and told him now was a troubling itch, of course. It was too much, it was letting him know me too well.

“Right.” He blew out a hard sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose and looking at the dust that blew in little eddies around our feet. His own fit the scene perfectly, mine perpetually out of place, a strange little tableau as we stood facing each other. He seemed to struggle a moment, before settling on saying nothing more.

For a moment there, without breaking the near-perfect silence that had settled around us, I had a sudden and vivid fantasy, of grabbing his hand, of pulling him to my car, of driving off as fast as I could, leaving the road for the flat clay earth of the desert… the fantasy vanished, before it could progress to anything too foolish, too intimate.

“I’ll see you around.” I said. Dull in comparison, but real life almost always is, when stacked against fantasy.

“Yeah. Course. I’m enjoying those books.” He smiled, with the desperate gratitude of a man freed from a highly uncomfortable topic of conversation, and given a door out.

“Good.”

“Think the Wittgenstein is a bit beyond me, to be honest.”

“I found it a bit of a bore.” I agreed—well, to a point I suppose I agreed. I was not really willing to admit to finding the philosophy impenetrable… “Then again, perhaps it should come as no surprise that I prefer the French philosophers.”

“Sure. Descartes and all that. I…”

“Have places to be, of course.” I nodded. “Myself as well. I shall let you go.”

I should have let him go five sentences ago, after all…

The tension is so delicious!

sexual tension fic
fFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF these are ALWAYS the best kind. i think it'd be AMAZING if one ficwriter decided to write a fic with NOTHING but tension and only after like 10 chapters of just them dancing around each others they are finally gonna do something...

AND THEN IT ENDS.

Dull in comparison, but real life almost always is, when stacked against fantasy.
ISN'T it, though? You're definitely a bright spot in MY mornings.

You are such a tease, Anne! I love you for it though.

>>35

And then the news the next day would be full of reports of spontaneous human combustion - with the only links amongst the cases being that each was on the same website at the time of occurrence.

Thanks, all! Well... here's something of a climax for all that tension, if not the most preferable type of climax...

Ch.VII- Look What Has Happened

“We can’t keep doing this.” I said, and there wasn’t near enough room to pace, but I didn’t exactly want anyone walking up on this conversation, so inside the camper it was. “I can’t keep doing this.”

“You think it is my choice?” He spread his arms, glaring at me. “My fault?”

“I didn’t say that.” I held a hand out. Maybe I should have. We’d gone on weeks like this. Seeing each other outside work. Trading books and talking about them. Apologizing, for things we never should have felt guilty for. A solid month I’d armed myself with my submachine gun, even though it’s about the worst weapon in my arsenal and no good when you get set on fire, just because of him. I ought to say it’s his fault and send him packing, not spare his bloody feelings.

“Well I never wanted your friendship.” He bit the words out, ugly sneer twisting up his face.

“Yeah? Seemed pretty eager to be pals not ten minutes ago with your damn book club!”

“When we are talking about ‘Picnic at Hanging Rock’, it is your damned book club!” He snarled, picking the book up and hurling it at me. “And your friendship was the last thing that I wanted! I do not want it now!”

“So how’d we end up like this, then?” I shouted, setting it down carefully on the bed.

“I don’t know.” He moaned, that brief bit of anguish giving way to heat again as he stepped up to me. “But I would rather you stab me in the belly now and let me bleed to death than hear you talk to me about friendship.”

“Yeah, maybe I oughta.” I crowded him right back. “That’s what I should be doing with enemy spies in my home.”

“Home.” He snorted. “Yes, a charming home you have here.”

“Well no one’s making you stay, sweetheart.”

The look he gave me was wounded in a way I’ve never seen on him, no matter how he dies. “I see.”

“Well?”

“Fine.” He closed his eyes. I watched him struggle with composure. “I will go. And since this ‘friendship’ is so distasteful to us both, I will murder every last ounce of goodwill you may have felt towards me. You can keep the books, or you can give them away, or you can burn them. I have lost my taste for literature. You wish to hate me?”

“I been trying to figure out how to do that for yonks. You been holding out on me?”

“I will let you despise me. I will give you a weapon to use against me, because it is the only way I can think of to end this. Is that what you want? No forgiveness? No amiable discussion and no mercy?”

I felt twitchy and hot. Mercy, he says, like it’s been any kind of mercy the way we’ve gone at each other even since becoming friends. Friends or something like it. Worst, I couldn’t think of a damn thing he could do that would drive me off, when the first slow death didn’t do the trick.

“Close your eyes.” He whispered.

I did. I waited for the pain, for him to murder me in my own home, rob my last little sanctuary of any illusion of safety and laugh in my face while I died over me being fool enough to let him in. I felt the soft touch of warm leather against my cheek and waited for the knife to slice into the other side of my face as he held me still, leave me choking on blood and grinning ear to ear.

When it came, I didn’t recognize it, not at first. No cutting, no stabbing, no cold steel edge at all. And even after the beat passed and I knew what was happening, there wasn’t a damn thing I could do in response.

He knew. It was all I could think. And how long has he known? And why was he willing to keep his mouth shut and let it slide? And no wonder he said ‘friendship’ like a dirty word, when coming from me it was.

I was leaning into him on instinct before I could make myself push him off.

“Get out.” I said.

“I thought so.” He nodded, twisted satisfaction and disgust on his face.

“I said get out!” I grabbed the front of his suit and started for the door, didn’t take more than two steps. “I didn’t let you in so you could mock me. You think I asked for this? Wanted it?”

“Mock you?” He shrieked. “I know you did not! There was never a point in our association where we should have been happy!”

“OUT!” I wrenched the door open and shoved him, and he landed in the dirt.

“What, not going to finish the job?” He sneered, picking himself up shakily. “Not going to go ahead and kill me for it like a real man?”

“Don’t you dare—Don’t you dare,” I hissed, down the step and on the ground before I even knew it and hauling him to his feet. “I’m every inch the man you are.”

“So do it. Murder me. Finish us.” His chest was heaving. I never even told myself to go for a weapon, but I was holding my kukri on him then… “Then it will all be done. Over.”

I turned, without loosing my hold, slamming him against the side of the camper and scoring his side with the kukri’s edge. “Who knows?”

“Who knows what?

“ABOUT ME!” I roared, slamming him back again, digging in. He writhed and sucked in air, pain flashing across his face. “Who did you tell?”

“As if I would tell anyone. And damn myself? Have you finally baked all the sense out of that brain of yours?”

I faltered. “Then why…? Why—why any of it?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” He gasped, twisting away from the blade.

“You lying snake…”

“Ah--! Make sense if you want me to understand you, then!”

“You swear you haven’t told anyone?” I dug in again, my face even with his, close enough to hear each pained gasp and feel his breath in my face.

“Why would I do that? Damn you, end me! End me and it’s over!”

I wasn’t sure what to believe, and the doubt was starting to muddy my head, but I let go of his jacket, slid my hand around the back of his neck to hold him in place.

“All right, spook. I’ll end ya. Why don’t you take this to the grave?”

I worked the kukri in deeper even as I kissed him, my tongue pushing into his mouth, more anger and hurt maybe than lust. Hard to say, it was all mixed up. I kissed him hard and tasted blood and felt him sag against me, whimpering pained moans into me.

“A peculiar act of mercy for the dying man,” He gasped, when I finally pulled away.

“Mercy?” I blinked, kukri falling as I caught his full weight. His blood seeped out too warm and wet over my arm.

“You are… killing me for kissing you,” He laughed—or tried to, only it bubbled red over his lips. His eyes were dimming, amused more than angry, and sad more than that even.

I shook my head, feeling it swim thick and heavy as I did. “For mocking me.”

“How did I mock you?”

No… Oh no. “You knew.” I knelt, lowering him down, holding him. “You knew somehow.”

He didn’t know.

He never knew.

“Oh, hell. Oh, damn me… Fuck. Why didn’t you just say something, you bloody fool? I thought you knew. You said you did it to hurt me!”

He swallowed, whole body shuddering, no comprehension in the foggy gaze that met mine.

He didn’t say it was to hurt me… he said it was so I’d hate him.

“I’m sorry,” I said, or tried to, choking too much on the words and my mouth against his skin.

He gasped and convulsed again. “Finish,”

My hand scrabbled for the kukri I’d dropped, trying to reach it without letting go of where I held his head up, cupped the base of his skull and pressed my cheek to his.

“Course I will, darling, of course I will. You’ll be back home in half a tic. Promise, love, I promise.”

I found his heart this time, the cleanest kill I think I ever gave him if it hadn’t been so late.

I held him until he was gone. Not dead, gone. Respawned. I wiped my face on my sleeve and told myself it’d only felt wet because he’d bled on me first.

He didn’t know…

I don't comment on stories nearly as much as I could, not really having anything constructive to say in the way of criticism. (Okay, and I'm lazy). That said, I have nothing technical I could say about this chapter, but it made me go "D'awww..." I love this stuff.

I actually squealed in sick, delighted joy andhugged my computer when I read the lastest chapter.

Anne, you are the BEST.

That was an excellent use of different POVs. It's a single series of events, but it reads completely different depending on whether you go with Sniper's pov ("I've been an understandably paranoid and probably self-hating closeted homosexual for so long and this guy, whose job it is to uncover secrets, said he was going to do something terrible to me and then he kissed me! Clearly that means that he has found out what I am, which could get me fired or arrested or worse, and is now taunting me and insinuating I'm not a real man!") or with Spy's pov ("I have to make him detest me somehow, and since homosexuality is widely considered a vile unforgivable abomination if I kiss him then he'll surely find me loathesome and disgusting! Ah-ah! Indeed he is reacting with anger and hate, my plan was a complete success! I will now claim that a real man like him should want to kill a pervert like me, so we can go back to being enemies!").

I've actually read this chapter several times, sometimes imagining it from Sniper's pov and other times imagining it from Spy's, and it really works great.

Damnit! Now I have to wait an ENTIRE day for more. I should have saved reading this for later in the day, instead of hopping on my computer the moment I woke up. Anne-- you are the reason the time machine will be invented.

That said. This chapter had me super worried. I've read fics where the respawn gets turned off at night, and I was literally shaking my head with a mantra of: 'no, no...nooo' the entire time I read the last quarter.

So very, very glad to see you approve of nightly respawning. Made this chapter all the sweeter!

Fricking fantastic as always. i cannot wait till tomorrow morning to read more! did sniper say that stuff cause he hopes spy will not remember most of it? spy is most likely sill going to be the one who pushes them apart because of their job. tomorrow needs to be here faster.

OH MY GOD ANNE, OH MY GOD.

This is delicious. I love the slow build up you're giving us here, nnngh.

Please please PLEASE tell me Spy heard those last words! And somebody keep me away from the computer today so I'm not checking every (insert embarrassingly short interval) JUST in case there's maybe an extra installment because it's the weekend or something.

I do not want to wait till tomorrow! I almost want to say I NEED the next chapter! This story is amazing and I was hooked at teh first paragraph! Do not ever stop your amazing talent Cat! Never.
I will sit at my lap top... waiting patiently((impatiently more like it)) for the next installment.

cat bountry you have whipped this chan into a damn frenzy

i await the next update with froth and turgid vigor

>>48

What? This cat is no Bounty-- this cat is a Detective! Huge difference.

Thank you guys so much-- your comments are incredibly gratifying.

>>42
I'm so glad it came across well! I was aiming for that exactly and praying it would read the way I wanted it to.

>>46
Hm... for that to be true, I would need to be not evil...

>>43
But don't worry-- I'm not quite evil enough to kill Spy. At least this time.

>>48
Wrong Cat (sorry, it's confusing), but I'm very flattered.

And everybody else, thank you, thank you, I absolutely love you, I brought you a chapter.

Ch.VIII- Never Knew That I Could

I avoided him assiduously after that. I couldn’t even look at him, not after what I had done and what we had said… and the kind of anger I’d gone so long without seeing even in our most vicious fights…

I did not weep over him. He was never mine to have, and I have born losses before without tears. I am not the crying kind. Even so, I mourned the death of what I did have. It was only the pale shadow of what I wanted, but still so much more than I ever should have asked for.

The rest of that weekend, I spent in my quarters, and none of the others on the team saw me, if they were even spending their time hanging about the base. When the week began, I was barely more than a ghost on the battlefield. I did my job by rote, taking on the sentries, and sometimes I was successful. Other times I was not. I no longer felt the difference.

Perhaps it was not quite accurate, to say his friendship was hateful to me. It fell short of what I came to want, but… he was still the only true friend I had had, for years. I was still happy to think of him as one, even as I tried to keep my thoughts of him from turning too carnal. I missed him. But I could not go after him again. The wounds were too raw.

My track record suffered, though not for lack of trying—well, not for lack of attempts. I had done little but go up against the RED Engineer and his buildings all week, but I had lost sleep and some small amount of will. I knew the rumours were already circulating, most revolving around some phantom lady love running off with a rival. I heard the sudden hush come over the whole of the canteen when I joined the team for dinner on Thursday—the first meal all week I’d actually appeared for.
“Yo, Spy!” The Scout jogged in from outside—the boy had wolfed down his food and run out when the rest of us had barely begun. Well, when I had barely begun. When the others were no more than halfway through their meals.

“What?” I asked, though I made it clear I would rather kill him than listen to much of his prattle.

“You got a beef with the RED Sniper or something?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” The BLU Sniper laughed. “He’s been going for their engineer all week. I’m the only one who’s taken their sniper out of commission since Wednesday last.”

“Yeah? Well it sure looked like he was messing with your car.” The Scout shrugged.

Lovely. Bad enough he should break my heart, if he has keyed any slurs on my sexuality into my Deesse, respawn will not even be able to find all of him. Damn it all, in the wake of this disaster, that car is all I have left.

I drew out the Ambassador, loading and polishing it carefully before getting to my feet.

“I am going out.” I announced. “To check on my car.”

“Aw yeah!” The Scout laughed.

“Stay.” I snapped. “I do not want help, nor an audience.”

He settled back with a grumble, imprecations I did not care enough to try to make out as I left the base and he complained to our team about my moods or my unreasonableness.

I slipped through the gap in the fence and over to my little parking spot. The Sniper was leaning against her, but aside from that, he seemed to be doing nothing suspicious. Still, that did not mean nothing had been done.

“What do you want?” I demanded, doing my best to scan her paint job for damage, without taking my eyes off of him.

“I been waiting to talk to you all week.” He had a book in his hands. Seemed nervous. If any harm had come to my goddess, it was very well-hidden. “You never came around. You didn’t even stab me and run.”

“I was told you were messing with my car.”

“Well. I tried waiting. I been waiting. I thought—I was just looking—I was going to leave a book for you, if you’d had a window open.”

“I don’t leave my windows open. Too much dust. And I told you, I do not want any of them back.”

“This one’s mine.” He held it out to me. “Please.”

After some deliberation, I accepted it. I had nothing else to say to him, though.

“You had better go.” I turned to leave. “My colleagues expect to see blood on the sand. Lucky for you, I am tired. I would just as soon tell them that you ran off.”

“Sure. Just—“

“Goodbye.” I told him firmly.

I did not return to the remains of my dinner—by then, surely cold—or to the questions of my team. I went to my own quarters on-base, and it was only then that I even saw what book I was holding. True, it was not one of mine. It was dog-eared, the edges all softened with age and much turning, the corners battered. The Collected Works of Elizabeth Barret-Browning.

Funny… despite his habit of turning down corners whenever he wished to mark his place, this one had a bookmark.

Sonnet twenty-eight…

My letters! all dead paper, mute and white!
And yet they seem alive and quivering
Against thy tremulous hands which loose the string
And let them drop down on my knee tonight.
This said- he wished to have me in his sight
Once, as a friend: this fixed a day in spring
To come and touch my hand… a simple thing,
Yes I wept for it—this… the paper’s light…
Said, Dear, I love thee; and I sank and quailed
As if God’s future thundered on my past.
This said, I am thine—and so its ink has paled
With lying at my heart that beat too fast.
And this… O Love, thy words have ill availed
If, what this said, I dared repeat at last!

I took several breaths, rapid and then deep, and tried to stop my hands from shaking. With all the little folds he left in books, the scrap of an envelope that marked the page could be no coincidence. There was no damage done to my car and no guile in his approaching me. All the evidence I had pulled me in two very different directions.

I went and let the trembling take me. I let tears come that never fell when I first destroyed us. I was no pretty sight, but my mind was no pretty place to be, with fresh confusion pressing in on me. Either I had misread our fight badly, or this was a new and unforgivable torment. I was trained to expect the worst, but oh… oh, I prayed for the best. For the first time in so many years, twenty-three or more, I prayed for the best. And when I knew the base was sleeping, I collected myself to go for an answer.

Man! what a moment to end it on! every morning i am so excited then to be teased! i love and hate it! do continue.

Oh mannnnnnnnnnnnn, what a slip-up. Sorry Anne.

Fantastic as always, though.

Damn, a death scene should not be that sexy. I've lost track of how many times I've thought that while reading this story.

I love the last chapter. How Spy comes undone at the very end.

I... I CANT! This is so amazing i found myself litterally in tears... TEARS! when i read the poem... im sorry but i just have to say from all the fictions i have read in my entire life in any fandom this has to be the one that got me the most worked up in the emotional department you my dear cat have me on the edge of my seat and ready to fall off into the abyss... please. i beg you ... never stop.

It is really very strange to feel oneself doing handsprings when (A) one has never done them before and (B) visual confirms one is still sitting quietly in a computer chair with a lap cat undisturbed.

I am sitting here, flailing a little, and making little 'HHNNNNG' noises, because I know something good is coming and I cannot WAIT.

Your stories always make me feel fluffy and giddy inside, Cat, and I thank you for them.

Cacha: $5,501,221. I think this fic is worth more. Splendid chapter yet again and I hope you update soon.

You spoil us too much with your daily updates, Anne.

I was wondering if you had anyplace online where you collect all your work? I'd like to reread it all again and I'm afraid I'll miss some if I go digging through the archives.

You spoil us too much with your daily updates, Anne.
DO NOT TELL HER THAT. NO NO NO.

>>58

Totally seconded. Could you be on ff.net or tumblr?

Thank you so much, you guys. You continue to make me go asdfghjkl; at all the attention. I'm ferklempt. I almost feel like I should apologize for the massive case of blue balls this fic is giving everyone...

Ch.IX- I Never Want To Let You Go

I just about jumped out of my skin when he knocked at my door. Don’t know why—I’d been hoping for him to come, hadn’t I?

“You left your bookmark.” It was all he said when I opened the door.

“Never use one.” I shrugged, stepping to one side.

“I thought so,” He rushed in, his arms around me the second the door was closed, and then my back was up against it and my front was up against him.

“I thought you found out about me,” I gasped the words out between his lips.

“I thought you hated me,” Spy swallowed them.

I shoved us off the door, wasn’t barely two steps from there to the foot of the bed and then we were falling onto it.

“Heaven help me, I tried.”

I could have laughed. I could have cried. It all wanted to come at once and maybe it all cancelled each other out, because I didn’t do either, but somehow even though I’d landed on him just a second ago, I was on my back and him on top of me.

He kissed me like I was the answer to something and I kissed back even though I didn’t rightly know what the question was. His hands were shaking on the front of my shirt, fabric stretching and bunching in tight fists and I could see the flex of tendons through his gloves.

“Please,”

“Yeah.”

“Please.” Again, like a prayer. Again, with hardly any sound, and again with none, until it was just the puff of his breath and his lips moving, and my hands were everywhere, unsure, but I nodded and promised all the same.

“I thought it was a joke.” I admitted. “Or a threat. I’m sorry.”

“Do not make me leave this again.” He whispered, ragged, into my throat. “Because I will not. If you touch me like that… I will not. How did an outback survivalist assassin ever develop a taste for Barrett-Browning?”

“Lot of time to read in the outback.” I shrugged and stroked his face, petted over his back and shoulder and arm, touched his leg. “What will they do if we’re caught?”

“We won’t be.” He promised, as if it was ever a promise we could make for certain.

“You don’t know my name.”

“You don’t know mine.” He looked down at me, eyes serious. “Is that a problem?”

I thought about it. I didn’t know his name… but I knew what it felt like to coast across the desert over a hundred miles per hour with the wind in my face, and I knew the ending of The Mousetrap, and I knew he was a war orphan. I knew the scent of his aftershave and the taste of the barrel of his gun and I knew what he looked like when there was half a moon out and loneliness written in the lines of his frown.

“I don’t know what you look like under there.” I said, fingertips brushing his cheek.

He smiled and caught my hand. “Not on a first date, cheri.”

“Yeah? Seemed like you were ready to go pretty far for a moment there.”

There was a little out-of-place shyness to him then. “You know… this weekend, I think the Engineer has got his hands on something with Harold Lloyd. And no one will be looking at my car. If you were interested, in a proper date.”

“Sure. Wouldn’t say no to an improper one, course…” I left his mask alone and ran my hands up his arms.

He let me reel him in for a kiss, and this time… this time it was perfect.

Maybe my frame of reference isn’t so big, but I thought so, anyway. There was no pushing away and no anger in it, and that was enough for me, and if I was rubbish at kissing, he didn’t mind it.

“Filthy bushman…” He chuckled, his mouth wet against mine, and I licked at his bottom lip, bit down just enough to make him swat at my shoulder and laugh and kiss me back, push me down and kiss me…

“Bloody spook.” I whispered.

When he caught my eye, I could almost read his intent. It was some nebulous sexual thing just past the edge of my understanding, whatever he meant to communicate. It made me feel like a cornered rabbit and happy to be one.

“There are things I might do, on a first date. If it is an improper one.” He teased.

“Yeah?”

He slid down, crouching over my lap, his hands on my belt, his lips forming a single word with a tortuous careful slowness.

“Oui.”

“Well if you like,” I said weakly.

“Of course… once I have a taste for you, you might find me very difficult to get rid of.” He warned me with a smirk. “Do you still want me to… taste you?”

I nodded, lightheaded. I’d never had another man between my legs, much as I might have fantasized from time to time. Well, no one can prove a fantasy, you can’t be prosecuted for… for a wet dream now and then or the kind of things that come to mind when you’re having a wank. Even if you’re in bed with a girl and you think of someone else—someone less girl—As long as it’s all in your head, no one has to know. This is real.

It could be worse than everything I’ve spent my life being afraid of, if anyone found out about this, this concrete thing I’m doing that’s against all the rules.

But the shyness is replaced by a far more Spy-like overconfidence and he looks me up and down and licks his lips like he knows he’s worth the pains, chuckles soundlessly and runs a fingertip along the seam of my fly.

“Oh yeah.” I said.

His fingers closed on the zip.

(Oops! and I meant to say up there, I just got signed up with AO3, I haven't uploaded anything yet. I'm a terrible procrastinator with archiving... Anyway, eventually it'll all get sorted and posted there. All of it...)

And you're stopping there?! What am I gonna do with this lady boner now Anne?
I am loving this story. You really are very, very talented Anne. Thank you so much for writing for us!

The time is now 9:35 in the morning. I am super tired-- but I feel like a kid who stayed up all night to catch a glimpse of Santa. Oh-- how Santa has delivered! Thank you, Anne!

I'm on the edge on my seat. Know why? Because the rest of that seat is soaking wet.

HUUUURRRG.

I cannot wait for more. But I swear, if we don't get at least one written-out sex scene, rather than 'AND IT WAS SEX AND IT WAS MAGICAL', I will be very, very sad in the pants.

AAAAAAANNE Y U GIVE ME SUCH BLUE BAWLS?

SCREAMS

>>62

When it is uploaded, I know what I'll be doing for the next long while.

What are the female equivalent of balls? Ovaries, yes? Well, my ovaries are as blue as bilberries and it's all your fault.

Okay, here's the last chapter-- it's not the sex I cut away from, but it is sex, so... the horrible edge of sexual frustration has finally been crossed. Oh, and because I forgot, like, twice in a row-- for anyone who wanted to know, I'm AnnetheCatDetective on tumblr as well.

Ch.X- I Only Want To Be With You

“Thought you didn’t do this to your seats.” He smirked.

“Shut up.” I rubbed against him with the heel of my hand, feeling him grow harder, more insistent, grinding back up into my touch.

Too risky, sadly, to try it at the little ‘drive in’ my team had created against the wall of the base—they rarely looked the other way, but if they did it would be disastrous enough just having him in my car. Too risky to go into the nearest city large enough to have a real theater—suppose anyone who knew what either of us was saw us there together? And no telling where the companies’ eyes and ears are…

In the middle of the desert, though, parked out on a lonely cliffside to watch the sunset… well… who would be the wiser?

“Yer teasin’ me,” He groaned, his hand grabbing mine when I provided too little stimulation.

“Your accent is always so atrocious when you get like this.” I said lightly, but I was nice enough to cup the bulge firmly, to start a rolling sort of massage.

“My accent? Least I don’t forget what bloody language I’m speaking.”

“Because you only speak one.” I pointed out, abandoning my efforts long enough to get his pants open.

“You’re downright impossible to understand when you’re getting a proper fucking.” He leaned over to whisper against my ear. “Half the time I don’t know what you’re begging me to do… Seems like I usually manage a pretty good job of it anyway.”

I pulled my glove off, slowly, with my teeth. I couldn’t help grinning a little as I did it, either… the way his eyes were glued to me was nice enough, the strangled little groan was heaven.

“Oh, you like that?” I slipped a finger into his mouth, to let him tease me back a little, with his tongue and the edge of his teeth, and long pulls of highly suggestive suction. “Mm… I do have my upholstery to worry about, though…”

“Don’t you dare,” He huffed, pulling my hand away from his mouth. I extracted it from his gentle-enough grip before he could try guiding me where he wanted me, and he whined, a sound of pure frustrated lust. “So help me, you bloody spook, if you say another word about your upholstery I’ll drag you outside and fuck you over the bonnet…”

“Oh no.” I smirked, pulling a silk handkerchief out of my pocket. “Then I should worry about my paint job. Suppose someone saw?”

He snorted, and I trailed the very edge of the handkerchief over the head of his cock.

“You’re gonna be the death of me…” He chuckled, turning to kiss me.

“Just a little. I suppose if I am very careful not to make a mess, I can help you with that…” I stroked him through the silk, a few long, steady pumps to get him nice and ready, just until I could feel a spot of dampness spreading through the fabric when my thumb swept circles over the tip. Enough to save me a little time and trouble of being twisted around in the seat to reach, but once he was leaking, I did manage to get into a good position to suck him off.

I swallowed him down until my nose was pressed hard, flattening on the pubic bone, hair tickling at me but largely ignored. I guided his hand to the back of my head, to hold me in place, to use me as he saw fit… It was an awkward position, the two of us sitting side-by-side in the relatively small confines of my car, but I didn’t really notice the discomfort, not when I had the smell of him and the taste of him, and the sound of his breath growing ragged around harsh swears and gentle pleas. Funny how my name could sound like either one.

He came, choking on a breathy ‘fuck’, his hand holding me in place more gently than he needed to, until that became a gentle massage to the nape of my neck as I licked and wiped him clean, keeping every trace of my spit and his come off of the seat.

The handkerchief was soaking and musky, and I put it back in my pocket anyway—there was nowhere else for it to go. He slid a hand into my lap and nuzzled at my neck once it was put away.

“Can I return the favour?”

“I don’t have anything else to clean up with…” I said, although a good part of me was willing to ignore that.

“Aw, I’ll take good care of ya.” He squeezed my hip. “I could still lay you over the bonnet of your car, suck you off out there. No one around for miles… Promise I won’t make a mess of your paint job, love, I’ll swallow every last drop you give me…”

“Well…” I smiled, as if I could really refuse… my head was still buzzing with sex, and he was so good at convincing me…

I didn’t actually let him lay me down on the hood of my car, but I leaned against the door while he knelt, his mouth on me, eager, so eager… to please, to experience, to love… Kneeling on the ground meant bringing more dust into the car, but dust could be vacuumed out, dust wouldn’t cause any raised eyebrows at the car wash. Dust found a way in no matter what you did, and it was a very small price to pay for being able to watch his face as he moaned around me and grabbed my ass and squeezed, urging me to thrust into his mouth, his swallowing throat…

It was teasing and tenderness both, when after I spilled my release down that throat, he sucked me clean as he could and kissed the head of my wilted cock with that crooked little smile…

“How’d I do?” He asked, as if he didn’t know, and I offered him my hand as he pulled himself up off the ground.

I pulled my balaclava off, desert breeze chilling the skin that was never exposed to it, the day’s sweat evaporating instantly from my face but staying in my hair, keeping it spiked in awkward disarray.

I watched his eyes flicker across my face, hungrily memorizing details.

“Can I kiss you?” He cupped my cheek.

“But of course,” I’d never balked at it before, and he had sucked me off a few times, as I had for him. He was… unused to it, at first, but never what you could call fussy over such things.

I pushed into his hand, he leaned in to meet me, his tongue sliding against mine. I placed my hands on his waist and let him lean me back, let him kiss me for all either of us was worth.

“Glad I didn’t disappoint,” I murmured, laughing.

“Never.” He nuzzled at my throat. “Never.”

asdfghjk
my brain fried
you're the best Anne!

And the car seats are still clean. SO Spy.

If you will excuse me, I believe I require a cool drink and a fan now.

This is the end?
It was AWESOME, thank you Anne for sharing with us!

Best thing I could have come home to, for certain. It was a delight.

End? WHAT? NOOOOOO.

Tell me we will see more of your Sniper/Spy. I love them, truly I do.

it...it ended?

NUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU

It's over?! I wasn't expecting it to be anywhere near finished by a long shot!

I just...
Wow.
That was amazing.
You're really good at this. Really.
I mean.
You're very experienced, and you managed to hold out for so long! What stamina!

Seriously though, that was great. It was worth a million normal porn fics.
The sexual tension was almost better than the actual sex.
Almost.

I read this last night, pulling an all-nighter on a school night just to finish it. I mean, to say I was enthralled would be a total understatement.

Your writing style is rather unique among fan fiction; it's professional-level writing that flows. And I've been looking. Trust me, it's a style that is rarely attempted and seldom executed well. I also enjoy how subtle the homosexual tones are and how realistic the relationship is (well, as realistic a relationship between two mercenaries can be). I enjoyed the pacing; you didn't toss out the sex immediately, nor did you wait too long. To keep my rambling down to a minimum, you're good. You're very good.

I really loved this story! I too stayed up on a school night to read this, and I have no regrets. Please, dear god, PLEASE write more. My female ovaries love your stories.

People, for all the sake of the internet, STOP playing with my heart and SAGE!