The Sniper was beginning to regret his evening, having been surrounded by various members of his team for most of an hour. They sang and danced in merriment, most indulging in alcohol and snacks of their choosing, all the while patting the man on the back and congratulating him on another year lived as they chattered among themselves and just had a dandy time at his expense. The hunter would gut whoever let the secret out that it was his birthday, as he would have preferred to enjoy it in the company of no one but his gun catalog and a cup of lukewarm coffee. But, of course, some unknown person must have snuck in his camper while he was out and spied the birthday card written in the delicate cursive of his mother as she sent him well wishes from both she and his father. And, of course, there would be a simple message beneath the usual spiel of everything going on back home with the simple guilt-ensuing suggestion that he should stop by and visit his parents sometime soon.
Betrayed by me own mum. The lanky man cursed to himself as he sipped at his bottle of beer and tried to keep to himself in the corner of the obnoxiously loud room. The cake at the table beside him had nearly been finished off, as the Heavy had helped himself to multiple slices throughout the make-shift party.
The Sniper had wished that the group had spent their time more wisely and not have wasted funds and effort decorating the room with make-shift supplies crudely cut and pasted together for his sake. The Pyro had even taken it upon himself to toss confetti around as he danced about the room, mumbling about nothing in particular, but he was jovial and that was all that mattered. Where did the masked fellow accumulate so much of it anyway? He was purposely occupied, no doubt, so as to stay away from the candles that had been abruptly lit and blown out at the urging of the rest of the men. And, obviously, the hunter’s wish was not coming true, or this day would hurry itself up and be over with. He gave a groan under his breath. For a man always living to be polite, he was surely doing a horrible job of pretending to enjoy this get-together in his honor.
The hunter was too busy sulking into his beer to notice the youngest teammate approaching until he heard the Bostonian speak up.
“Hey, slim, you look kinda down. It’s your birthday in case ya forgot or somethin’!”
“I didn’t need the reminder, lad.”
The Scout laughed heartily as he held his sides with one arm, “Gettin’ too old, huh? C’mon, ya gotta live it up, at least for one day or else you’ll get old-man wrinkles.”
The Sniper heaved a sigh and lifted his head, giving the boy a horribly-fake grin to satisfy him before dropping back down to his drink. This only provoked the youth farther.
“Ah, I bet I know somethin’ that’d cheer you up,” he teased, and then turned to the Engineer stationed at the stereo across the room, “Hey, Tex, crank it up! The birthday boy wants his present!”
The other male complied, and suddenly, loud music drowned out the conversations of the entire BLU team as the Scout gave the Sniper a devious grin. Without giving the elder a moment to question the situation, the boy had turned around and proceeded to begin shaking his rear in the man’s face, which had quickly become flustered and bright red. The other men could only laugh and cheer the youth on as he snapped his hips and tossed his hands into the air, inching ever so close to the body he now danced for.
The Sniper made a futile attempt to separate himself from the wiggling rear by leaning backwards, but his chair was already against the wall and the initial shock was too much for him to even consider pushing the boy away and running in embarrassment. He stammered for words, but they were lost to the jeering of the crowd and the whooping of the Scout as he bent over slightly and inched over close enough so that his backside nearly rubbed against the elder’s thighs. His pace quickened to the beat of the music as the youth spun around and continued to rotate his hips so dangerously close to a flustered hunter. That smile of his increased in satisfaction at the Sniper’s mortification; hands suddenly met at the elder’s neck as the boy dared to crawl onto his lap and hover just enough to cause friction between their respective pants as he ground into the other male’s stomach.
It was too much for the onlookers as they bellowed in laughter, some giving cat-calls and whistles, and some going so far as to wave dollar bills in the Scout’s direction. He gladly accepted the money, allowing them to tuck their bills into his belt while he performed for his unwilling recipient. Not one to disappoint a paying crowd, the youth pulled his shirt off and proceeded to twirl it above his head with one hand while the other remained clamped at the bushman’s neck.
The Sniper never wished for a quicker and less-torturous death. But, as soon as it began, it ended with the Scout casually stepping away from the older male as he caught his breath and laughed along with the others as he collected his “pay”, but not before tossing his shirt onto the hunter’s beet-red face.
“No need to thank me, old man,” he jeered as he counted through the bills casually.
The group, having had their fill of entertainment, went back to their business of drinking and eating as if they had not just witnessed a guy-on-guy lap dance, and the Sniper was thankful for that. He peeled the sweaty blue shirt from his face and tossed it upon the floor and went right to work in chugging his alcohol as fast as he could swallow. The faster he drank, the better the buzz and soon, his face was red with intoxication rather than embarrassment.
Alcohol had a funny way of bringing out people’s true intent, and the hunter was thankful that his shirt was not tucked in, as the tail hid a surprisingly hard erection. There was something appealing about the way the smaller male’s body moved close to his own that he could not place, but he knew that, despite the previous embarrassment, his gift was far from being unwrapped. Sluggishly, the Sniper rose to his feet and made no subtle attempt to get the Scout’s attention; he grabbed the youth’s arm and pulled the half-naked boy from his current conversation, ignoring his curses and onslaught of questions as he made a direct path towards his camper.
“We’ve unfinished business, mate,” the elder slurred.
This perked an interest from the boy. “Oh, really now?” He allowed the taller man to half-drag him inside the vehicle, and the door was abruptly locked behind them both. The Scout would have no time to make a move of his own as the elder had plastered him against the wall with his own body, and lips were smashed together harshly. A gloved hand groped about the boy’s waist while the naked one tugged and yanked at the boy’s belt buckle; the youth allowed himself to be manhandled so roughly, his own hands going to the elder’s neck once more as he moaned encouragingly into the other’s mouth. It was all the Sniper needed to hear as consent to ravish the smaller body, and he made quick work of the Scout’s pants and underwear, yanking them down past his knees before abandoning them to tear at his own. They joined the other pair on the floor as the elder male stepped out of them, bringing the other body with him to the edge of his bed where he sat down and hungrily lapped and kissed at the toned stomach before him.
The Scout, ever mischievous, reveled in the attention he was getting; his erection was more than enough proof of that. He pulled himself from the hunter’s mouth and kneeled before the man, giving a wicked grin as he parted lips and allowed the larger member to hit the back of his throat. The boy felt himself chuckle on the erection as the Sniper gave a sharp hiss and moan at the sudden sensation that raced up his spine and down to his toes. Hands instinctively grasped at the youth’s head as his mouth so expertly worked against the tender flesh.
The Sniper felt as if he could die of ecstasy right then and there as a slippery tongue danced and teased his cock. But, the pleasure would not be fulfilled so quickly as the Scout removed himself to the bushman’s protesting. He crawled atop the elder male and caused him to see stars as he thrust himself upon his arousal in one quick motion. Both men cried out in shock and pleasure, and the younger of the two wasted no time in mimicking his previous dancing session as he rocked against the other body. The hunter gripped at the boy’s hips once again, chanting what could be motivational mumbles; neither knew as both could only hear the panting of the other male against their ears. The Scout gave another satisfied grunt as the elder took hold of his erection and madly worked it in rhythm to the boy’s pelvic thrusting and both sets of lips clashed again.
It would come as no surprise that the younger of the two had the shortest tolerance for pleasure; he moaned into the Sniper’s mouth as hot seed spurted between two torsos and the elder would soon follow with a groan of his own as he filled the smaller male to the point of dehydrating. Both bodies rose and fell raggedly as the Scout leaned back to admire his handiwork in the form of an out-of-breath and sweaty Sniper as the man was inspecting his now-dirtied shirt.
The Scout gave the elder a grin as he pointed a thumb behind him at the abandoned pants harboring his earned cash near the wall. “I can, uh, buy you a new shirt.”
“No, I think it’s safe to say you’ve done enough for me for one birthday,” the Sniper whispered as he slicked his sweaty hair back with a hand.
“Eh, your loss, old man,” the Scout replied as he removed himself from the elder’s lap and collected his wayward clothing in one quick swipe. As he pulled his pants to his hips, the boy removed the wad of cash from his pocket and waved it at the elder with a laugh, “Next time you want another dance, I’ll charge half-price.”
And, with that, the smug slugger was gone with the sunset and the Sniper could only reach for a cigarette and a magazine, now finally left to his own devices. He sighed into the sudden silence.
It was a shame his birthday came but only once a year.