You found yourself on all fours, and suddenly wondered if this was such a good idea.
This had nothing to do with you, after all. No, you were just the innocent messenger sent up to Sniper’s nest to call him down for dinner. You only opened the hatch because you assumed him to be alone, like he always claimed he was. You didn’t mean to catch him and the enemy Spy together, tangled up within each other in a heated make-out session. And you certainly didn’t mean to sit there staring for the next few minutes with your mouth agape and a funny tingling in your pants.
Spy was the first to make mention of the unwelcome audience.
Sniper dragged you up from your spot on the ladder, letting loose with every insult and threat in the book--you didn’t bother defending yourself, because really, there wasn’t much of an excuse for your behavior. Yet, when an unfazed Spy suggested another method of persuasion to keep you silent, the coy smirk tugging at the edge of his lips didn’t leave you all too reassured.
You agreed, though, to your own surprise. Not because watching them tear at each other’s clothes left you hot and bothered, or anything. No, you were just curious.
“Of course you are,” Spy replied, voice smooth as silk.
With vague force, Sniper pinned your wrists behind your back and guided you to your knees, shooting off a quip about your apparent fondness of keeping low to the ground. Before you knew it, Spy was unbuckling his pants in front of you, the masked man’s shameless arousal tightening the fabric around his crotch. It didn’t come as a surprise, of course--you had interrupted an intense moment--the only thing that startled you was how huge and obvious and right in your goddamn face it was.
Not expecting you to just sit there and look at it, Sniper released his grasp so you could reach up rather shyly and pull Spy out into the open. The head of his considerable length was already slick with clear fluid, and you gave the glistening substance a lick, growing brave as you brushed your tongue along the bottom of his shaft and got yourself used to the taste of his skin. Spy tilted his sympathetic gaze as he watched your eager tongue go to work on him; twisting his gloved fingers in your hair, he pressed his hand lightly against the back of your neck, a polite implication that he was growing impatient with your teasing. Happy to comply, you took him fully into your mouth.
“Ah, mon Dieu ...”
You enjoyed the way Spy’s accent draped over his gentle imploring, loving how the small thrusts his hips made grew more erratic and uncontrolled, and when you glanced up at his flushed expression, the room around was suddenly way too damn hot. Sniper’s hand trailed across your back; just as you pulled away from Spy to see what he was up to, Sniper pushed to force you down on your hands. His rough nails dragged against your skin as he shoved his fingers down your waistband with little caution, yanking your pants and underwear down to pool around your knees. Sniper knelt down and busied himself with a bottle in his pocket, and the grim realization dawned upon you that they both expected to be satisfied at the same time.
Before the cold drop in your stomach even managed to settle completely, Spy traced a curved finger down the side of your jaw, fingertip resting against your chin and tilting your head up to redirect your stare onto his half-lidded gaze. “Did I say you could stop, mon amour ?”
Spy slid his shaft past your lips again, and you welcomed the distraction, taking in as much of him as you possibly could while darting your tongue beneath him, around him in time. Sniper pushed his hand against your tailbone once more, making you form a deep arch with your back as his slick fingers worked their way inside of you, preparing you for the inevitable.
Everything was sending you spiraling into a daze. The very feel of Spy moving in and out of your mouth was indescribably intimate, considering it was you pleasing him with upwards glances and an agile tongue. The pleasure building from Sniper’s constant motions was getting intolerable--every so often, he touched against a spot that made you shut your eyes tight and hold back whimpers, and you were almost sure he was doing it on purpose.
Sniper removed his busy hand from you; he took himself within his other hand and positioned himself behind you, not wasting a second before burying himself inside of you. The surface of his thighs hit your rear end as he forced himself in to the hilt, and the sensation of being filled so completely overcame you, your whines eliciting an incredible moan from Spy as your voice vibrated against him.
Unable to restrain himself, Sniper kept a one-handed grip on your waist and cursed, withdrawing himself before ramming into you again so hard you saw stars. His free hand slid around your thighs, bare fingers quick to stroke you between your legs; he was nearly bending over you, now, the leather caress of his gloved palms creating friction upon your skin. The combination of pleasure from the waist-down was overwhelming, making your legs tremble beyond your control as you sucked Spy off, your tongue swift and desperate against the agent’s aching member; the smooth lines of French spilling from Spy’s lips were growing hurried, and even if you couldn’t understand what he was saying, it was obvious what he was trying to.
Spy’s release was salty and bitter, but you let it wash down the back of your throat, savoring the surprised expression forming beneath the man’s mask as you finished off every last drop.
You swallowed hard, only so you could breathe again.
Spy pulled himself away from you and you nearly collapsed in turn, pressing your forearms to the floors to keep steady. Now that your mouth was freed, your breaths were painfully audible, your stretches of heavy panting broken only by embarrassing, drawn-out moans of pleasure and sharp whimpers of Sniper’s name. The huntsman’s pace was growing deeper and faster by the moment, reaching and hitting that spot he teased against before, over and over and over; you tried to make sense of it all while biting back the pleasure, refusing to let it all be over so soon.
“Hell...” Sniper growled. “Stop holdin’ back, ya bloody weasel, you’re almost there.”
“Oh, don’t be cruel.” Spy lowered to sit on the floor in front of you, looking completely casual. He rested his chin upon the back of his hand in nonchalance while leaning in to speak--you tried to keep staring at the ground. “You must forgive ‘im, ‘e cannot finish unless ‘is partner does first.”
“Piss off, y’wankah,” the other snapped, sounding much less intimidating out of breath.
“Ah-ah, ‘e denies it now, but...” Spy took your face into his hand, brushing his thumb feather-light across the surface of your parted lips. “You just need a little more encouragement, non ?”
When your mouths met, your inhale was deep enough to make you light-headed. Spy’s tongue was masterful against your own, twisting against yours in confident longing, gliding against the roof of your mouth to swallow your every moan; his kiss combined with the repetitive strikes against that marvelous spot inside of you made the entire world around you collapse in on itself.
You broke the kiss with Spy, clenching your fists while moving in perfect rhythm with Sniper, forcing yourself back as he pushed forward; another thrust ripped a cry from your throat before you climaxed, hard and fast, causing a sticky mess all over his fingerless glove, but he certainly didn’t seem to mind.
Sniper retracted his hand from between your legs and grasped the other side of your waist, pulling you onto him even harder. “ There ya go...”
One final push from his end, and you felt rushes of hot, sticky fluid erupting inside of you, viscous and warm and oddly satisfying. The taste of Spy was still on your lips, and though your body was perfectly still save for the breathy rise and fall of your heaving chest, you felt as if you were still moving in time with Sniper. You were a heap on the floor, now, a complete mess, both mentally and physically. Not only had you just received the most mind-blowing sex of your natural life, but it was sex involving Sniper and Spy. At once , for Christ’s sake.
As Sniper rose to his feet, Spy glided behind him, lifting the Aussie’s hat from his head and donning it in his place.
Breaths still slightly shallow, Sniper shrugged his pants back on, tugging up his zipper. “Maybe next time our friend here’ll think twice before entering a room without permission.”
“Mmm...” Slipping a cigarette between his lips, Spy wrapped an arm around Sniper’s neck, flicking on a lighter with his other hand. “I’m certainly ‘oping not.”