Making this its own thing like I should have done in the first place. UuU
Picture credit goes to ssoll.
It was a lazy summer afternoon, the sort that made your skin bead with sweat in a borderline satisfactory way, and one that Sniper fully intended to spend half-naked loafing atop his camper. When a young male voice yelled up at him demanding attention, he tuned it out with a sort of practiced indifference – that is, until a sole running shoe landed with a thump beside his head.
“Yo, wombat!” came the follow-up shout. Sniper could hear Scout breathing hard and scuffling about in the dirt below. “I freakin’ know you’re there. You’d a’ put away your stupid junk if you weren’t.” There was a brief silence when Sniper didn’t respond, followed by a pathetic sigh that made Sniper roll his eyes in resignation.
With a grunt of annoyance, Sniper sat up and gazed down at his antsy visitor. “Yeah, yeah. You’ve got me well sussed,” he grumbled, laying on the sarcasm thick, though a smile crept its way onto his lips.
“Heck yeah, I got your suss,” Scout returned, oblivious to Sniper’s meaning. He teetered precariously on one foot, likely regretting the decision to toss his shoe.
Sniper yawned and stretched, scratching at his bare chest. “What d’you want, runt?”
“A freakin’ massage.”
“Like hell,” Sniper responded with a snort.
Scout scowled, jutting out his jaw. “Screw you, man. I worked my freakin’ ass off today.”
“The answer’s still n—Oy!” Sniper had no time to protest before Scout slipped inside the camper. He sighed heavily, scratching under the band of his hat.
By the time Sniper had hauled himself down the ladder and kicked off his boots in the entrance, Scout was sat on the edge of the twin size fold-down cot and had stripped to just his t-shirt and pants. He smirked when Sniper glanced at him, a hand playing at the hem of his shirt.
“C’mon, koalafag, y’know you been waitin’ for this all day,” Scout said in a low tone, doing his best to seem seductive.
It rarely worked. Sniper simply chuckled, shaking his head. “Still not bloody likely,” he teased, putting a knee on the cot and leaning into Scout.
The young man arched his back with a triumphant smirk, confident that he’d gotten the bushman to comply for once, feeling rough hands taking hold of his shirt. No sooner had he let down his guard than he was yelping, the red fabric yanked up above his armpits, pinning him inside.
“The fuck, Snipes?” he complained, trying to squirm his way out of the trap to limited success and Sniper’s grand amusement.
“S’wrong?” Sniper asked with a crooked grin, prodding Scout’s ribs to a chorus of muffled curses.
As soon as he was free, Scout lunged at the older man and wrestled him onto the bed, the two of them momentarily a tangle of limbs and laughter.
“Freakin’ asshole,” Scout panted as he sat straddling Sniper’s waist, the victor. Sniper simply smiled up at him, hands innocuously unbuckling Scout’s belt. “Aww, man, those too?” he whined.
“You’re halfway there already.”
Scout barked a laugh. “Ohho, sure. You just wanna piece o’ this,” he said with a smug grin a mile wide, snapping the waistband of his briefs.
Sniper raised an eyebrow, accustomed as he was to Scout’s verbal jousting. “Nah, mate, you’re the one came whinging up to me camper, rarin’ for a bushman’s hands to set you right.” To emphasize his words, he grabbed Scout by the waist and squeezed, noting the twitch of muscles in Scout’s core at his touch.
Nonetheless, it earned Sniper a hard punch to his shoulder, though the young man was laughing as he slid off to the side, contesting for space on the mattress even as he kicked off his pants. “Whatever. Ain’t my fault you got no control.”
“Yeah? Compared to what?”
“To, uh…” Scout was momentarily at a loss for words when Sniper brought a leg over his waist, resting all his weight on his hips in a way that might have been threatening or arousing were it not for the man’s ridiculous shades and hat. “The hell’re you still wearin’ those in here for?” he pointed out abruptly, reaching out to tweak the brim and to snatch Sniper’s aviators.
“Oy!” Sniper straightened his hat with one hand and grabbed for his glasses with the other. “Bloody careful!” he growled, tense as Scout snickered and set the folded aviators on the nearby table.
Turning back his way, Scout batted at the bush hat in earnest, laughing as it flew sideways and Sniper failed to catch it in a glorious spasm of panic. Scout yelped as the older man dove at him, the two of them devolving once again into a mess of playful cursing, each jostling for dominance.
“Fuck! I give, I give!” Scout hollered, caught in a headlock, squirming and clawing at Sniper’s arm as the other man chuckled in that gravelly, low way he had.
Sniper considered him a moment, giving him a playful tap to his ear. “Y’gonna settle down, then?” he asked, tone brooking no argument.
“Yeah, I got it. Geez.” Scout rolled over when Sniper released him, groaning and stretching in the afternoon light filtering through the crummy blinds. He idly watched as the other man sorted through cramped cabinets, tapping a rhythm with his feet on the plywood that served as the bed’s headboard. It wasn’t long before he felt the need to speak up. “Yo, man, what’s the holdup?”
Without a word, Sniper kneeled back upon the mattress and over Scout, keeping his weight off the young man as he rubbed his hands together. The first touch started at the small of his back, pleasantly warm and slick. Sniper appreciated the low moan he drew from Scout as he kneaded the heels of his palms into taut muscle.
“Oh, yeah… there… there… oh hell yeah,” Scout murmured, resting his chin on folded arms as Sniper attended to his shoulders. The tapped rhythm of his feet slowed and died as he gave in to relaxation, relishing the simple heat and occasional callus of Sniper’s hands.
Sniper took his sweet time, the mingling scent of their sweat in the confines of the camper sending his senses reeling with memory; the young man pliable and wanting, youthful uncertainty, the muffled cacophony of their combined voices late at night, the intoxicating stench of the aftermath. Caught in the sweet haze of recollection, Sniper leaned forward, stubble rasping against the sensitive skin of Scout’s neck as he placed his lips just shy of his jaw.
The young man stirred with a dazed chuckle, twisting to return the kiss before Sniper could pull away. “Bit early for that, don’tcha think?” he joked, a wry smile baring teeth as he turned onto his back, a fist twining itself firmly in the hair at the base of Sniper’s neck.
As he was pulled closer with a matching smirk, Sniper muttered, “Not quite, like…” and sank into the biting, teasing kiss, even as he felt his trousers slip down off his hips, forgotten.