tosbox | making my way downtown

[The big issue here isn't getting fired. No, Spy will be fine for now, considering all that he's saved. Losing a resource as powerful as RED and Mann Co in general is a blow indeed, but Spy can get by. Right now, he's more concerned about living and making sure none of his loose ends catch up to him.

Most of the things he's taking back with him are either essential or expensive. The weapon magazines and catalogues sent by RED are still sitting in his old quarters, along with some leisure books and even some pieces of his old uniform. The suit has always been a part of his look, so he keeps some of it; they make for some decent padding for the wine stored in the trunk of his car.

With his tie slung around his neck and his jacket over his arm, Spy makes a mental checklist of all he needs. His life is pretty much stowed away in his wallet: bank cards, multiple IDs, cash, miniature cloaking device, plane tickets... He pats his pants pocket for the only thing that doesn't fit in his wallet: his passport. Not that he'll need it for the flight, but it's good to have these things just in case.

A tiny part of his brain nags at him, urging him to feel sentimental about leaving his workplace of over four years. But to hell with that - god knows this won't be the last he's seen of them.

When Scout hobbles up to his car, a mess of stupidity and arm casts, Spy is tempted to slam the door in his face and make him eat his dust trail. But, of course, the little mongrel has to pull the mother card and all of a sudden Spy feels responsible.]

I have a jet leaving in fifty minutes. You've got twenty. Get in the car.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ Strangely enough, he hadn't expected Spy to get involved either. Still, he has to note what comes to him in turn when he's already feeling like a mess under the older man's ministrations.

Spy takes what he's offered, and Scout forgets, but his touch also frays anew, pushing into that long hair and along the scalp, ruffling it up even as he feels himself slide down an accommodating throat.

Scout isn't looking down at the other man except in glances, to see him ducking down anew over his cock. It's stimulating, no doubt about it. It's all Scout can do to press his free hand over his mouth while he groans through it, fingers tightening in the other man's hair just that much on the other hand. He doesn't know if he can last the full two minutes. Maybe he's already gone beyond it? He can't tell - he's beginning a shallow thrust into the other's mouth. ]

[It's only the first scratch that overstimulates a sensitive area. The second dose of fingers along his scalp earns Scout a hum and a suppressed shiver, but that's all Spy will allow past a tightly capped lid of self-control.

Again, Spy's rhythm stutters as Scout tries to defy it with his hip moments, but this time he won't resist it. Instead, he sacrifices some speed to accommodate the thrusting, building his rhythm around it, countering it, even, by going forward when Scout does and pulling back with him, too. It pushes Scout deeper down his throat, but he can handle it, even if his breath is a bit ragged as it filters through his nose.

It's past two minutes. Spy has been keeping track, though he hasn't been trying to affect Scout beyond what he's already doing, and that's not going to change any time soon. Scout already surprised him with his size, and considering Spy is relearning the ropes, he's not going to push himself.]

[ Scout hardly knows he's bothering the other man. He's pretty single-minded right now about getting his pleasure, if maintaining a timeframe.

Driving him even farther down the other man's throat, he can hardly handle himself, even beginning to twist a little at the hips and digging his heels into the Spy's shoulders. He's got the fingers that aren't in Spy's hair in the man's own bedspread, clenching up the thin comforter.

He calls Spy every name under the damn sun. And he comes, hard, without warning, right down the other man's throat, his face buried in the crook of his arm and his fist clenching in the other's hair. It didn't take him terribly long. As far as he knows, it's been seconds past.

But for the moment, he doesn't care. He almost wilts against the bedspread, spent, all grips going slack as he tries to breathe again. Ok. So. THAT just happened. He's not ready to deal with it just yet. ]

[The hair pulling and the heel digging are usually things Spy takes with grace in encounters such as these, maybe even with pleasure, if the cards are played right. Scout is as typical as it gets, minus the size thing, which is a plus in Spy's books and definitely something he'll take note of for future reference.

But coming down his throat? Not cool. Spy isn't about to make a mess everywhere by suddenly pulling back, but he grimaces and takes it. Maybe he'll scrape his teeth a bit when he finally does pull back, but he'll stay wrapped around Scout's cock until he feels the final pulses pass.

A sigh rattles through Spy's throat as he deflates. It takes him only a moment to recover, however, taking deep breaths through his nose as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. Then he's leaning his cheek against Scout's thigh again, unwilling to be the one to break the silence. In fact, he might as well savor it, instead listening to the sounds of their breathing and how they clash in rhythm.]

[ Nope, don't care. The scrape of teeth against him might make him jerk and shudder abortively, but he doesn't really consciously register it as anything other than a minor annoyance after a hard high. Yep, he's rude as hell. Did Spy expect anything more? Whoops.

For once, Scout maintains the silence too, at least for a while, catching his breath, letting the peak of orgasm rock through him until he rocks back down to the reality that he just let Spy, of all people, give it to him. Then he doesn't know what the hell to say, almost delicately extracting himself from the other man's shoulders, pressing his heels against the bed frame to ease himself away.

The only thought that occurs to him ( good enough to say ) is: ]

Nice doin' business witcha.

[ A patronizing pat would do wonders here, but he's already sliding up the bed, slightly dazed but also beginning to pack himself in. ]

Hmm.

[As Scout pulls away, Spy moves forward to rest his chin on the bed frame. He looks up at his teammate with vague interest.]

Bien sur. T'at is, of course, if you are going to 'old up your end of t'e deal. If not, I t'ink I really will kill you t'is time.

[His tone is calm, level, distant. There's a coldness you wouldn't normally expect after having done such an intimate deed. But that's the thing, isn't it? He's not supposed to be attached. He's not supposed to care. Even if Scout has been pressing on that rule like a bruise in his back from the moment he went and asked Spy for his help all those months ago.

Idly, he runs his fingers down the front of his splint. Yeah, still good.]

[ Scout doesn't mind the coldness, if he thinks of this like a business transaction, which he decidedly does, for now. ]

A deal's a deal.

[ Until he finds it convenient enough to rehash the incident, that is. But until then, a deal is a deal.

And Scout pushes himself and zips his jumpsuit with a hiss of metal. Holy shit, what the fuck just happened? Ok. Man, that was... Ok, nope, he's going down to his own bunk.

Which is to say he all but slithers to the edge of Spy's bunk, hooks on, and basically swings into his. Physically, he's always been pretty agile. Even when he sort of feels like a boneless puddle after whatever the hell Spy did to him. He's going to have to think about that. ]

[Still watching with mild interest as his teammate slithers away. Then he steps back to stretch, popping a few bones in his neck and shoulders.]

Bien. Je pense...

[He shakes his head as if to clear it.]

I t'ink I am going to take a nap.

[Which is an appropriate response to what he thinks is his pain meds wearing off. He covers Scout's trail and clambers up to his bunk, curling up in the warmth his teammate left behind. Maybe no cigarettes this time.

As long as Scout keeps his word, which Spy is a somewhat doubtful of, Spy won't think too much of this incident. For now. Scout's response should amuse him when it hits, but maybe he'll do some thinking first for once in his life.]

Yeah, I mean yer age is showin' now more than ever.

[ Which is a low blow by a man who just got blown by this other man, but he's a slave to the comeback. You understand? You get it. Yeah.

Scout is going to be doing some soul searching in the next hour or so, though, while Spy possibly takes a nap, so all things balance themselves out. That just happened. He just let that happen. Gay chicken is now pretty goddamned gay on his end now. What.

If nothing else, Spy should have a considerable silence in which he can take advantage of. ]

[All Scout gets in response is a mumble as Spy falls off into the world of sleep. Have fun soul searching, Spy did that a couple years back. Though Spy should probably do some of his own, having just engaged in a rather intimate activity with someone on his own team and the son of a woman he romanced (is romancing?). But, being the adult he is, he's going to ignore that for now.

Feet against the mattress should be an easy wake up call, if Scout feels the need.]

making my way downtown

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