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“What were you thinking?” Sniper demanded, flipping through a book of exotic plant life, trying to locate a plant Spy had only been able to vaguely describe.
“I wasn’t. I should have known better.” Spy furiously blotted at his forehead with a towel, though it did little to help, seeing as how it was already drenched in his sweat. His restless tossing and turning amidst the sheets did little to ease his discomfort, and the gradual removing of all of his clothes (including his beloved mask) seemed to only make it worse. He had certainly learned his lesson from this little attempt at petty thievery, and that lesson was: do not trifle with a wizard’s things. Even if that wizard was grossly incompetent and a moron. Because in said moron-wizard’s possession might be a strange looking plant that emitted a golden pollen at high speeds that would make you… well. It would make you feel increasingly hot, itchy, and sensitive. And that heat might spread throughout your whole inside until you knew what was happening… but didn’t dare tell anyone. Until it became so painful and uncomfortable that there was only one place you could turn, and that was to the one man who would help you without making it worse.
“Listen, I don’t know what the hell that plant was, and neither do you. It clearly wasn’t a normal plant. I think we have to—“
“Non,” Spy hissed, sitting up in bed and immediately feeling a new wave of euphoria sweeping over him. “This doesn’t leave this room.” He flopped back down and curled up, trying to hide himself (and his erection) from Sniper’s gaze.
“It’s too late, I called him already. He should be here any minute.”
“You. Did. What?”
“Mate, he’s the expert in supernatural mumbo-jumbo. I know plants, but this wasn’t a normal plant, so I can’t help you! Believe me, he’s seen everything, he’ll know what to do.” Sniper held his hands up defensively and made a point of keeping his voice from shaking. He didn’t know precisely what that plant had done to Spy, as the rogue had refused to be specific, but he knew it couldn’t be good.
Half an hour ago the man had stumbled into Sniper’s private quarters asking for help, which in and of itself was enough to make anyone stop and pay attention. But the fact that the spy didn’t look at all well was cause for even greater concern. The fact that the cause of his ailment had been a strange, mysterious and magical plant made Sniper very, very nervous. He hated Merasmus, he hated magic, he hated anything haunted, charmed, cursed, bewitched, or jinxed. But Demo thrived on this stuff: he was their only hope, short of going to Merasmus for help and hoping he didn’t kill them on principal.
And right on cue, a boisterous voice boomed from beyond Sniper’s door. “Micky, lad! Your expert has arrived!”
Dashing to the door before the Scotsman woke up the whole base, Sniper let him in, giving a cautious glance up and down the hallway before locking the door again.
Demo dropped several massive, dusty books on the foot of the bed and gave Spy a once-over. “Ach, you look like you’ve been through a wringer, mate.” He rolled up the sleeves of his comfy-looking flannel shirt and organized his books on the foot of the bed.
“Merci,” Spy sneered.
“Be nice,” Sniper demanded, jutting a finger at the ailing Frenchman. “Was some kind of a Venus fly-trap looking thing,” Sniper explained, relief easing his mind now that the resident magic buff had arrived. “Blue, though. Shiny on the inside, leathery on the outside. Gold pollen shot out of it’s maw, got him in the eyes.”
Demo tutted and immediately went for the largest book, flipping through musty-smelling pages filled with ancient notations written in languages that probably weren’t spoken anymore. It was a credit to Demo’s expertise and familiarity with the tomes that he produced answers after not more than an hour’s research. By the time that hour had passed, Spy had begun to softly moan with discomfort.
“It’s between three right now; course they could be hybrids or mutations. It all depends on the symptoms.” He turned to Spy. “You growing fur or horns on any part of your body?”
Spy was still coherent enough to look horrified. “NO.” From his fetal position on the bed with only a thin sheet around his waist, he flailed out weakly for the towel again and gave up after a few feeble grasps.
Demo turned to the second bookmark he’d placed. “Seeing the future at all?”
Spy curled up tighter, fighting the urges bubbling up from his chest. “No… Demoman, for the past six hours I’ve felt increasingly like I must ravage any man I see. My insides feel like they’re on fire, and my blood feels like sandpaper in my veins. My muscles ache like I need to run a mile, but any movement hurts. I’ve been aroused to the point of pain for hours and no amount of… self abuse has given me any sort of relief. It’s all I can do to keep myself in this bed and I fear I’ll lose my mind any moment. My heart is pounding, my adrenaline is pumping, and my self-control is waning. You wanted my goddamn symptoms? There they are.”
Demo made a small, concerned noise and turned to the third bookmark with a grim look. “Actually, that sounds about right. Lad, I don’t know how to tell you this…”
“Oh, mon Dieu,” Spy moaned. “I’m going to die.”
To the side of the bed, Sniper looked a bit sick.
“Well not necessarily. There’s a cure. And an illustration.” Demo pointed and showed the page to Sniper with a slightly raised eyebrow. Was that a hint of a smirk?
Sniper leaned over to look at the page and for a moment, his expression didn’t change. “What am I looking at here?”
“Ye know.”
“What is it?” Spy looked almost hopeful, but feared the worst.
Sniper grabbed Demo by the elbow and escorted him into the hallway as quickly as he could, shutting the door firmly behind them to block out Spy’s protests at being kept in the dark. “Are you fuckin’ loony, Tavish?”
“I didn’t write this book, mate! This is the flower, yeah?” He stabbed at the page with his index finger. “Then this is what the cure is.” He stabbed the illustration of two human-shaped individuals clearly having enthusiastic sex and pushed it at Sniper’s face.
“Why does this bloody flower exist?” Sniper hissed, pushing the book away and burying his head in his hands.
“Well, less-than-moral witches and wizards would sometimes use it when they felt it was time to sire an heir, but mostly they’d gift the flower to someone who had wronged them as a magical ‘get fucked you barmy cunt’.”
“Enough, Tav, I’m thinking. Can’t he just, you know, take care of it himself?” Sniper gave the classic ‘beating off’ gesture.
“Not gonna work, you can’t just… trick magic. This is a very specific spell, no cheating. Has to be penetration from another live human body part until the deed is done.” Tavish examined the ancient scrawl a bit closer. “Fingers and a tongue works if that’s all you got, but it’s more likely to work the first time if you use the ol’ tallywacker.”
“Of course it does. That makes sense. This all makes perfect sense.” Sniper sank to the ground and rested his head against the wall. “He can’t use his own fingers then?”
Demo rolled his eye and gave Sniper a hard stare.
“Well… what if… he doesn’t?”
“Then it gets worse. Much worse. He feels bad now, but… according to this book he’ll be begging for death if 24 hours goes by with no cure.”
Sniper gulped. “Respawn?”
Demo sighed, he honestly did feel bad for Sniper, and worse for Spy (even if this scenario would surely make a good story later). “Respawn puts you back together in the condition you were in before you died. And like I said: you can’t trick magic.” He slid down the wall with a flourish to sit next to Sniper in a cross-legged position. “Don’t hate me for sayin’ it, but this isn’t quite the reaction I would have expected from you… given the circumstances.”
“This… is FAR from what I wanted, Tav.”
“I know, Micky. But… blessing in disguise?” Even he didn’t sound convinced.
Sniper sighed. Good ol’ Tavish, he tried to find a silver lining in every motherfucker of a black rain cloud. “No blessing about it, mate. He’ll hate me for this and that’ll be that.”
“Ach,” Demo clapped a hand on Sniper’s shoulder.
….
Sniper sent Demo back to his own quarters with promises to return his books at a later point in time. That was fine with Demo, as he was in no hurry to get back in the room and explain what exactly would cure Spy of his insatiable horniness. Since he trusted Sniper, they bid each other a nervous farewell and Sniper took a deep, calming breath.
You’re friends, he reminded himself. You’re just doing it to help him, he’ll understand that. Things have been fine between you lately. More than fine. He’ll understand, and forgive you. Maybe he’ll even talk to you again one day. Not like this was your fault anyway. He’d do the same for you…. probably…. right?
He knocked before opening the door and immediately felt stupid for knocking on the door to his own damn room. He straightened his shoulders and walked in, bolstering his confidence for what had to be done. Jesus, how was he supposed to get it up under these conditions?
His carefully cultivated confidence was immediately shattered when Spy charged him, grabbed him by his vest and slammed him against the back of the door.
Sniper coughed and heaved as the wind was forcefully knocked from his lungs and Spy pressed up close, wild-eyed and soaked with sweat. He grabbed Spy by the wrists, intending to free himself, but he couldn’t overpower the Frenchman in this state. He could only strain against the formidable upper-body strength and gulp when he felt every sinewy outline of Spy’s naked body against his fully-clothed one.
“Fuck me,” Spy growled, grinding his hips up hard into Sniper’s. “Help me, save me, fuck me.”
Sniper tripped over his words, sputtering as he tried to explain or stall or whatever he could say to make this somehow less fucking weird. “Wait, wait a minute now, mate, you’re not thinking clearly—”
“Can’t think, no thinking, je ne sais pas… just… give, give me. Now, need you, Sniper. Micky,” Spy clawed at his clothes, snatching at any fabric he could grab until buttons began to pop off and fly across the room, leaving more and more of Sniper’s flesh exposed to air. The sound of his real name wrapped around Spy’s destroyed vocal cords and thickened accent seemed to grab him by the throat. He felt himself growing hard painfully quickly.
“Spy, hold on, just answer me something.” Sniper clutched at Spy’s face, trying to steal some eye-contact though Spy seemed to look right through him with blown pupils and a watery gaze. Spy’s pupils were lined with a thin strand of gold that definitely hadn’t been there before. “This will cure you, Demo says. If I… If I fuck you, you’ll be cured.”
“Yes, yes, fuck me, fuck me—”
“You get it? You understand?”
“Sniper, it burns. It burns inside me, please. Put your cock in me before I am ashes.” Spy looked to be on the verge of tears, leaning forward to kiss Sniper’s neck and just under his jaw in a way that would be sweet if not for the near-constant thrusting of his hips.
“Alright… okay.” And with that, the switch had been flipped and Sniper allowed himself to become unglued. Shrugging out of his shirt and tossing it away, Sniper dove for Spy’s mouth, licking and plunging his tongue downward to explore and taste. Spy practically cried out with relief and his hands went right for Sniper’s belt, walking backwards and leading them back to the bed, snapping the leather free from it’s belt-loops with a deafening crack. Sniper felt his heart rate triple and pound like thunder in his ears as his whole body grew hot.
Spy fell backwards with his arms out, beckoning for Sniper to follow. Sniper took in the view for only a second before he was prying off his boots and wriggling gracelessly out of his jeans, so turned on he could hardly think. This was like something from his deepest, most secret fantasies laid out in front of his eyes and now that it was actually happening, he was half terrified and half giddy.
He knelt on the bed and sunk into Spy’s waiting arms and kissed him, hands groping at any flesh he could find in an attempt to memorize Spy’s body before this was all over. The rogue was already slippery with sweat and his skin was hot to the touch, a cloud of heat hovering over his body and making Sniper dizzy.
But he was given a firm jolt back to reality when Spy spit into his hand and reached down to grab him by the dick, stroking firmly. Sniper broke the kiss with a surprised gasp. “God, Spy…”
“Now, do it now, maintenant, s’il te plait, maintenant.” Spy swallowed hard, a desperate look on his face. “I’m ready.” He directed Sniper’s cock, hard and wanting, downwards.
“Wait, no, I…” Sniper dragged his fingers through Spy’s salt-and-pepper hair as if it would help him think, ground him somehow. “You— I have to… prepare you? I can’t just—” he grappled for the right words, fighting every instinct his body had to drive his cock into Spy’s ass that very instant. The room around them felt sweltering, and Sniper wondered if whatever magic Spy had coursing through his body was rubbing off on him.
Spy leveled a hard stare right into Sniper’s eyes. “No, now. I’m ready. Now, christ, please.” He plunged his fingers into Sniper’s hair and gripped, as though to make his point clear. “Fuck me.”
Sniper released Spy’s hair and spit into his palm a few times, trying to gather as much wetness as he could as fast as possible. He knew, in the back of his mind, that it wasn’t enough. Spit was never a perfect substitute for lube, no matter how much of it there was.
But he couldn’t refuse Spy like this, naked and slick with sweat: he was weak, God help him, he was weak.
Spy chanted a steady manta of “yes yes yes” as Sniper slicked his straining, hard cock with all the saliva he could muster and leaned back just enough to direct the head gently, gently inside of Spy. At the first tight grip around the head of his cock, Sniper couldn’t contain a high whimper. Spy was so tight. It was then Sniper realized that Spy felt slippery inside. So much so that it was as if he’d prepared himself already with some heavenly slick substance that was cool and comfortable for both of them. Was this some sort of mad side-effect from the plant? Sniper couldn’t dwell on it too long, because Spy was scratching down his back like a wild animal.
Spy tossed his head back and screamed, actually screamed, startling Sniper half to death. He would have pulled out again, fearing that something was hurting Spy terribly, except for the strong pair of legs that instantly wrapped themselves around his hips in a death grip. A cascade of mile-a-minute French poured from Spy’s mouth as his eyes rolled back as a purely, hilariously satisfied grin spread over his face. Spy held him tight and pulled with his legs, insisting on more, harder, faster, now. In that moment, they fought each other; Sniper to slow down and Spy to speed up.
Still worried he’d hurt the man if he went too fast, Sniper firmly pinned Spy’s hip with one hand and gripped his hair tighter with the other in a clear show of dominance. The marksman pushed in, slowly, feeling his heart pound harder with each excruciating inch. And all the while Spy wailed under him, babbling in French and undulating in the most shameless way.
Once he was all the way in, a ridiculous sense of joy washed over Sniper and he couldn’t stop a breathless, shaky laugh from rushing out. Gathering the writhing Frenchman in his arms, Sniper buried his face in Spy’s shoulder and started pumping his hips, drinking in Spy’s wanton noises. A filthy gasp of pleasure punched its way from Spy’s lungs with every thrust and Sniper wanted to see just how much he could get in the limited time he knew he would last. It had been a while for Sniper and he knew his stamina wasn’t the best, but by God he was going to give it all he head and at least show Spy a good time.
Though it didn’t appear as though Spy had the highest of standards at the moment: he looked so steamrolled with pleasure at Sniper’s mere presence inside him, that Sniper was actually a little afraid to give it his best.
“Deeper, harder, please. Feels so… it feels amazing…”
Sniper peeled himself from Spy’s chest and kneeled, pulling Spy closer by the hips and lifting one skinny leg to rest on his shoulder. Wide-eyed, Spy barely had time to voice his appreciation before Sniper was pounding into him as hard as he could, reaching new depths with this position. Spy arched his back, pushed his hips up towards Sniper as best he could, and froze there as gold overtook his vision. He came harder then than he’d ever come in his life… and then it kept going. The rush and high didn’t wear off, but zipped through his body like electricity, unendingly. Weakly, he reached out for Sniper, for anything to reassure him that he was still on Earth in one piece. Sniper grabbed Spy’s hand and, without breaking his rhythm for an instant, held the hand tightly to his chest.
“C’mon, there’s a beauty…” Sniper panted hard, sweat beading across his brow. He leaned more weight onto Spy, fucking him mechanically through his orgasm. The heat, by God, the heat was almost unbearable to say nothing of the tight, unrelenting grip around his cock. Holding Spy’s leg securely to his shoulder with one hand, Sniper left Spy’s hand on his chest and reached out to jerk Spy’s cock as the man came, knowing it would be much more satisfying to come into a hand rather than just the air. Spy bucked and grabbed his forearm but didn’t stop him, gasping and clenching his teeth through the longest, most life-changing orgasm he’d ever had. “Give me all you’ve got, love. Waited so long for this…”
Sniper marveled at the amount of come spurting from Spy’s cock, amazed and turned on by how filthy they were becoming. Sniper felt the edge of his control getting closer and closer, and he rushed towards it with everything he had. He put all the power he had into his hips and thrust his cock as deep as he could into the warm, amazing body below him. By the end of ten thrusts, he was coming; cock twitching and balls pulled up tight to his body, emptying themselves.
By the time Sniper felt the last zings of pleasure ebb, he was amazed to see that Spy’s orgasm had waned as well. They both panted and gasped for breath in a room that felt 50 degrees hotter than when they’d walked in.
It was all Sniper could do just to keep from collapsing on top of the poor man. And Sniper knew as wrung out as he felt, it was nothing to what Spy must have been feeling. They stilled, frozen in place, Spy with a leg on Sniper’s shoulder, a hand on Sniper’s chest and around his arm. Sniper with a steady grip on Spy’s knee and a gentle palm over Spy’s now-limp cock.
Spy had a pained grimace frozen to his features as he gulped down air, chest heaving, every part of his body slick with sweat and some with other fluids. His hair was plastered to his forehead, his cheeks bright red, his mouth hung open. Finally, after several moments, Spy seemed to relax, and released Sniper from his grasp like an octopus taking mercy on a fish. Sniper braced himself and pulled out of Spy, both mercs letting a small noise of disappointment out. For a moment, they made eye contact. The gold in Spy’s eyes had gone.
Sniper turned to sit on the edge of the bed and reached for his discarded shirt.
Spy, through the haze and fog of his ravaged perception, was familiar with this part. Sniper would get dressed and escape, maybe with a kind parting word or a compliment. He was almost okay with that; he was grateful for what Sniper had done for him. His body felt like his own again, comfortable, familiar, without a trace of discomfort besides the throbbing in his backside that actually felt good in a way. Tonight, he would sleep for 12 hours after a long, thorough shower. And he hoped that Sniper would speak to him again after this, maybe he would forgive Spy for forcing him into this tryst. For forcing himself on Sniper. It would probably be best if Sniper dressed and left without saying anything.
Sniper leaned over and used his shirt to gently clean the mess from Spy’s skin, starting with his arms. He had his work cut out for him; beyond the whirlwind of pleasure and orgasms was the gritty, dirty, and sticky reality of a magic-infused orgasm and there was a lot to clean up. But Sniper continued down each arm with his now-ruined shirt and moved onto Spy’s chest, dabbing sweat in some places and wiping away come in others. Spy felt almost human again after a few minutes.
“How are you feeling?” Sniper’s voice was soft and earnest and saturated with kindness. His face was hopeful.
The fluttering in Spy’s heart this time was not due to a magic plant.