Chapter Text
Sniper lounged in the cheap cushioned armchair, sitting in the dark, working through his second cigarette. The ember glowed brightly as he took another pull. He had already pulled the blinds on the windows closed, and his eyes had adjusted to the dark. The motel room was furnished with a bed, sheets still tucked in, a couple of armchairs, a coffee table, and a wooden work desk. The chair he was waiting in was just out of eyeline from the door, opposite the far corner of the incoming hallway.
Sniper heard rattling at the door as someone fumbled with the key to the room. After a few tries, the latch unlocked, and he heard the door open, then shut again. Shortly after came a few relaxed footsteps- then, they became lighter. The lights in the room flicked on, and Scout drew his gun on Sniper, quick as a whip. Scout was wearing a plain hooded sweatshirt, fitting loose on his upper body, and dark cargo pants. No doubt, he was trying to look surreptitious on his way back to base after his most recent mission.
Scout's expression was cold, but Sniper noted that Scout's finger still lay merely on the trigger guard of his pistol.
“Hell are you doin’ here?” Scout demanded.
Sniper leisurely set his cigarette down on the ashtray, raising his hands to show he was unarmed.
“Guess RED’s intel is just better, mate.”
“Screw you,” Scout scoffed, a sneer tugging at his face.
Sniper calmly rose to his feet from the armchair. Scout's pistol stayed trained on him.
“Your mates aren't expecting you back for another couple-a days. Ain't that right?”
He saw Scout's weight shift from foot to foot. He doubted the bugger would shoot him right now, but he was definitely getting twitchy. Sniper took a nonchalant step forward. Scout shifted his weight into his back foot. The look on Scout's face was tinged with fear, but the hands holding his pistol didn't shake.
“I ain't here to hurt you,” Sniper said.
He took another step forward. Then another, and another, until he was less than arm's length away from the barrel of Scout's gun. In a decisive movement, he grabbed Scout's wrist, pushing the gun’s aim to the floor.
He felt Scout struggle against his grip futilely. They stumbled a couple steps backwards together. Sniper used the momentum to push his other forearm across Scout's chest and securely press him up against the wall.
“Drop the gun,” Sniper chided.
Scout's eyes screwed shut, and his gun landed with a dull thud on the kitschy motel carpet. Sniper kicked it away, watching it slide under the bed.
“There's a good lad.”
Scout just glared at him.
“You're an odd little bugger, ain't ya?” Sniper pinned Scout's wrist to the wall above his head with middling resistance. By Sniper's judgement, Scout had a strange thing for being hunted down. Of course he had to make it some kind of odd game instead of using his bloody words. God knew how much he liked to talk, and the guy still couldn't just tell it to him plain and simple. Maybe it was an American thing.
Sniper let up the pressure on Scout's chest.
“Mmm. Cat got your tongue? Just want a little chat, mate.”
“Don't got nothin’ to say to you.”
“You had a lot to say when I was in your mates’ torture cell. Where's all your bravado now?”
He saw Scout worry at his bottom lip with his teeth, like he always did when he struggled to find the right thing to say. He took the opportunity to start moving the arm across Scout's chest down, feeling the lean muscle beneath Scout's shirt against his palm.
“Did it feel good, being in control?” Sniper said. His hand was already slipping under Scout's waistband. Sniper's fingertips ghosted along the fabric of Scout's cotton boxers. Scout was at half mast as Sniper grazed his fingers across his underwear.
“...No,” Scout choked out. Sniper paused his ministrations. He… didn't think he'd misread Scout’s desires. He always knew his targets like the back of his hand. But if Scout really didn't want this, if he begged him to stop…
“It didn't,” Scout admitted. Internally, Sniper was relieved. He was a sick bastard, but not a monster.
“That so?” Sniper traced light circles on Scout's hip bone.
“No, I- I thought it'd fix this, I thought I'd-” Scout cut off.
Sniper had moved on to petting figure-eights across Scout's sensitive happy trail, skin on skin now.
“Thought you'd what, mate?”
“Ain't- none o’ ya fuckin’ business, man,” Scout said, breath hitching between words.
Sniper let out a real, incredulous chuckle at that. “Havin’ me fuck you stupid in the middle of enemy territory ain't my business, is it?” Sniper ceased his gentle petting. “Now, tell me.”
“...I thought I'd get you outta my system.”
Sniper rewarded him, fingers brushing along Scout's shaft teasingly.
“How's that workin’ out for ya?”
He heard a muffled whimper. Sniper withdrew his hand, using it to box in Scout against the wall.
Sniper loomed over Scout’s caged figure. He leaned in for a kiss, closing in slowly, like Scout was a feral stray about to bolt. Scout didn’t struggle any harder against his grip, seeming to be entranced. Sniper’s lips were but a hair’s breadth away from Scout's when Scout turned his face away, breaking the spell. Sniper didn’t react. After all, if he’d wanted a tamed pet, he could easily get one. There was something more satisfying about breaking a wild animal.
“I know how you need it,” Sniper murmured. He knew Scout was a creature who understood pain faster than he understood words. Sniper brushed his lips against the exposed hollow of Scout’s neck.
“I could make it good for you.” The words dripped from Sniper’s mouth like honey. It was an offer he already bet Scout couldn’t bring himself to accept out loud; not halfway-domesticated and skittish like this. Scout let out a shuddering breath. Sniper could cave in and give him exactly what he wanted. He could keep it cruel, keep it quick and easy to run from afterwards. This time, he didn't want to.
Sniper sank his teeth into the side of Scout’s neck, keeping him in place, and forcefully pressed his upper thigh between Scout's. Scout cried out in surprise. Sniper let him feel his canines, but didn't bite hard enough to break skin. He ground his hip into Scout's erection. He let go of his bite, kissing softly at the center of the fresh bite mark.
“Fuck, I hate you,” Scout gasped. He was already rutting into Sniper's thigh.
“Sure ya do, darlin’,” Sniper replied.