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The American Dream

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Sun spilled in through the cracks between the blinds and the windowpane, adding heat to the already sweltering room. Midday was not the best time for this, but it was the best time for them.

For the first time Spy’s wandering hands and probing fingers didn’t make Soldier tense. “Are you sure?” Spy whispered.

Soldier was ready. It was more than his gasping and flushed face, his leaking cock, and needy hands. He held onto Spy, looking the Frenchman in the eye with a twinge of a smile.

“Yes, Sir!” Soldier made a heavy moan.

Spy kissed Soldier and laughed, “I’ve told you, bichette, in here there are no superior officers.”

The smile Soldier had been fighting broke out, and Spy needed no other confirmation. He kissed the American again, a full and deep kiss, then reached beside him to coat his fingers. Spy peppered kisses down Soldier’s chest and stomach, to his inner thighs with a wolfish smirk, before pushing them further apart.

“I’ll be gentle,” he promised.

Soldier held his breath and nodded.

“Relax,” Spy told him, his free hand rubbing along Soldier’s thigh. “It will be easier if you relax and breathe.”

Soldier nodded again, but he still unconsciously held his breath. Spy rolled his eyes but in a loving way, and crawled back over the muscular man. He pressed his lips backs against Soldier’s, refusing control to the other man. He kissed hard and long until he felt a burning need in his own lungs. When he pulled back Soldier took a huge gulp of air.

“Yes, mon bichette, just like that,” Spy purred.

He kissed him again, the same way, until Soldier was begging for air, pulling away at the last moment for him to breath in deep. He did this again and again, encouraging Soldier to take his own deep breaths as his fingers inched down between his legs. The distraction was all Spy needed to relax the man long enough to slip a single finger in, and after that, Soldier would be begging for more.

As Soldier warmed up to the finger inside him, Spy was able to move back down the brawny body, to focus all his attentions on making Soldier’s first time perfect. He moved his finger with purpose, seeking out that spot that would make Soldier’s toes curl. He gently massaged that spot, over and over, watching Soldier lose himself in the pleasure. The American’s lips barely parted for a small moan, his eyes shut, and his body in an odd state of relaxation and tension. Blissed out on the pleasure it was receiving, but still craving more.

“Spy…” Soldier groaned.

“Mmm, yes?” Soy drank in that moan as if it were one oh his expensive wines. “Are you enjoying yourself?”

Soldier made a high keen and arched as Spy pressed harder against his prostate. “Is this it?”

Spy couldn’t fight the chuckle that bubbled out, “No, bichette, there’s much, much more.”

Soldier responded with a whimper and a thrash of his head.

“I am going to show you how much more,” Spy purred and pulled his index finger nearly all the way out only to add a second digit. Just as gently as before, Spy worked both his fingers into Soldier, careful to watch for discomfort. It seemed, that with all the pleasure Spy and to offer, Soldier was completely at ease. He did not tense at the added finger, instead, easily opening up for Spy.

“If you could see yourself…” Spy moaned and dipped his head down place more kisses over Soldier’s abdomen.

Soldier thrust up toward Spy’s mouth and mumbled, “If I could fuck myself now.”

“Oh, I will handle that.” He placed a single kiss to the side of Soldier’s cock and straightened up. “I will have to stretch you a bit, so relax.”

Soldier nodded, “Yes, Sir— err, Spy.”

Spy started off pressing against Soldier’s prostate, massaging the spot to make sure he was compliant. He eased off little by little, opening his two fingers in a scissor motion in larger increments as Soldier became looser and more aroused. He bent his head back down to suck on Soldier’s cock, small laps with no real direction.

He lifted his head to speak, “I have to add a third finger now, darling.”

Then he returned to the length, still sucking without trying to give Soldier too much pleasure, but again, trying to distract him from what was to come. Delicately, Spy joined his ring finger with the others.

“Ah, oh god, Spy,” Soldier cried, clenching around the fingers. “Why didn’t you tell me it was like this?”

Spy did not stop bobbing his head along Soldier’s cock to answer. He gave him a sly look and a handful of quick, teasing laps to his cocked before he freed his mouth. “I wanted to show you.”

With that, Spy twisted his three fingers, stretching Soldier enough to fit a cock inside him. He gave his prostate a few last flicks before removing them completely. Spy repositioned on the bed, spreading Soldier’s legs further apart and making room for himself. He looked down lovingly at his partner, took hold of one hip and stroked his fingers along it.

“Oh, mon bichette, I can barely restrain myself from fucking you like freight train.” Spy gripped the man’s hip, digging his fingers in. He dove down and kissed up and down Soldier’s neck and face, lust clouding his judgment. “But—” he pulled up, “I will, for you.”

With control back in place, Spy lined his cock up with Soldier’s entrance, as slowly as he inserted his first finger, Spy eased himself in. He limited himself to a mere three inches to let Soldier get a feel for the sensation.

“Is this all right, my soldier?”

Soldier had his mouth sealed shut, head tilted upwards, his body tense and eyes closed. A pink flush was over his cheeks and shoulders. Spy could tell that he was still aroused, his hard cock said as much, but as to whether that pleasure would stay was questionable. Spy reached his hand out and covered the fist Soldier had made in the bed sheets.

“Is it too much?”

The closed lips quivered, slowly opened for a hungry whimper while his head shook for ‘no.’ It wasn’t too much, it wouldn’t be too much, Soldier could never get enough of Spy. He didn’t understand all the flowery words Spy had used to describe sex, it was a bunch of pansy nonsense to him. But now that he’d had a taste of it, phrases like, ‘intertwined bodies,’ and, ‘turning two into one,’ made perfect sense to him.

And it all felt so good.

His body was tingling from his fingertips to his toes. The stretching, which he had most feared, was much more like a massage, and now made him want more, want thicker fingers and cocks. Spy always outperformed him in bed, with mind-blowing cock sucking and hand jobs that put prostitutes to shame. He should have expected sex to be the same, but this was an out of body experience.

Spy gently rocked into him, inching further in to press against that spot. The spot that made Soldier hold his breath and his hands shake. The spot that made his cock ache to be touched. The spot that was going to make him see spots.

“Would you like me to go faster?” Spy ran his hands over Soldier’s body, soothing him for an answer.

“Ahh,” Soldier gasped, “yes, go faster.”

He could hardly believe that his own voice was so shaken, so small. Then Spy grabbed hold of his hips and he felt anything but small. His partner thrust into him, not at a breakneck speed, but fast enough to bring Soldier to the edge. That spot was being pounded into, and the stretching become a pleasant burn, and as Spy added a hand around his cock Soldier was about to lose himself.

He felt like a coiled spring, containing too much energy for one being. He jerked into Spy’s hand, shaking his head back and forth over his pillow, sweat sticking his back to the sheets. His legs moved on their own accord, wrapping around Spy’s waist, pulling them closer together.

“Spy—ah, I’m…” He didn’t know what he was. Ready? Done? Whatever it was, he didn’t have the words for it, just endless whines and grunts.

“It’s okay bichette, go on,” Spy murmured, stroking Soldier’s cock faster, thrusting into him consistently. “Cum for me.”

With a surprisingly quiet cry, Soldier came, spilling over Spy’s fist and clutching the bedsheets like a lifeline. This was like no orgasm Spy had ever given him. He could feel it all over, making his lower half shake in leg twitches and quivering thighs. He could feel cock finally releasing the pent up pressure, the relief that flooded him, instantly cooling his overheated body even as his spasmed and arched against the bed.

“Beautiful, beautiful, mon bichette.”

Soldier couldn’t make out those words in his fog, nor did he notice Spy going through similar motions and making smilier sounds. It wasn’t until Spy laid down next to him and pulled him close that he regained some sense of his surroundings.

“I didn’t expect you to be so quiet,” Spy remarked, with a warm smile.

Soldier shared his own goofy grin. “You took my breath away.”

If only it had stayed that way. Soldier was so overjoyed and prideful of this step in his and Spy’s relationship that he felt the need to tell everyone. To shout it from the rooftops. Literally. And in great detail.

“And then Spy put his tongue right inside! Slurped it right out!”

“Jesus christ!” Scout’s face was shock, disgust, horror, and anger. Not even walking in on his Ma naked was as bad as this. “Shut up! I don’t want to hear this!”

“Don’t want to hear what?” Spy strode in with an air of nonchalance.

“You know what!” Scout shouted.

“Oh, Scout.” Spy didn’t have to fein his pity. “You should hear this, you might learn something.”

While Scout sputtered for a comeback, Spy kissed Soldier’s cheek and poured himself coffee. Sniper got up from the table with a grumble and passive aggressively shoved by Spy.

“Kid’s got a point, man can’t eat breakfast around here anymore.”

“Spy—” Soldier looked up to the Frenchman, but found he needn’t have to.

“Don’t worry, mon bichette, Sniper’s just upset that he can’t keep his erection from showing.”

—-

“Screaming eagles!” Soldier landed hard against the concert floor, but still poised and ready for the enemy. Yet, the second point was unguarded, and Scout was happy to rush in past him and claim the point without the hassle.

“Is that what you guys call it?” Scout snidely asked.

“No, Spy calls it sweet, sweet love. I normally just call out how many fingers,” Soldier happily corrected Scout.

They kept the point for about ten seconds before the enemy Scout and Demoman charged in. A shower of grenades blew his Scout to pieces, and Soldier struggled to pin the enemy Scout down long enough to blast him. Then he ran out of ammo.

“Did I…did I hear you right just now?” The enemy Scout made a show of cleaning his ears out. “Did you hear that?”

Demoman shared in the fun, a broad smirk across his face and grenade launcher slung over his shoulder. “Oh I heard that, lad.”

“Heard what?” Soldier snapped back.

“Hear what?” Soldier was echoed with addition of the enemy Heavy. “Why is there no killing? Engineer! Bring sentry!”

The Scout grinned, bouncing on his feet. “He’s a fucking queer! And he takes it from Spy.”

“What’s that now?” Engineer came bounding in, toolbox over his shoulder.

Suddenly Soldier was more than outnumbered. He felt embarrassment, and heat rising up over his face. He didn’t understand why they were snickering, or why the Heavy looked on with distaste.

“That true, rocket boy? You let that Frenchie play with your rocket launcher?” Engineer drawled with a smug look.

He was confused. “Spy helps clean my gun, yeah.”

The reaction was too much for Soldier to bear. They burst into laughter, even the Heavy snorted. Scout was braying so hard and loud he lost all the air in his lungs. Engineer was slapping his knee and leaning against his almost completed sentry, the Demoman was howling loud and wiping tears from this eyes.

Soldier attacked. Blindly rushing in and swinging his shovel, his only weapon left. It didn’t take long for the four men to finish him off, and Soldier was opening his eyes to the fluorescence lights in their spawn room. He could still feel frustration and anger choking him. With a loaded rocket launcher and shotgun he fully intended to exact retribution.

“You look angry,” Spy playfully commented, rushing in to switch disguises safely. “Come let’s go kill them all.”

He went to peck Soldier’s cheek, and found himself rebuffed.

“Okay, bichette, you can kill them all,” Spy conceded.

The rest of the battle went poorly. Soldier was off target, literally and emotionally. The enemy Scout caught wind of this, used it to his advantage. He’d called out after him, ask him about things he did with Spy. Unlike with his own teammate, Soldier suddenly didn’t feel so proud of his relationship.

“You stupid—son of a—ugly whore—” Soldier swung the spade of his shovel into the Scout’s face over and over again, until the head resembled nothing but a red, sticky mass of meat with bone shards.

“Soldier! Darling! Please!” Spy struggled to calm the American. “The match is over, we won, you can stop now!”

Soldier was panting, his battle face on and splattered with blood. He jerked away from Spy’s hand. “Don’t you touch me, Frenchie!”

Spy was taken aback, and could do nothing to stop Soldier from walking away.

It went on like that for days. Soldier in the most aggressive mood, refusing to speak with Spy, or even make eye contact with him. The assassin gave him space, expecting him to calm down, to reach out. He was pleased when it did happen.

A soft knock on his smoking room door lead the way for a morose looking Soldier. It was followed by a short, and quiet conversation, no room for argument or logic. And ended with Spy heartbroken.

“Soldier, darling, that’s not—” he searched for a way to explain it, “that’s not what you’re upset over, it’s not—”

“It’s how it is,” Soldier stated definitively. “You’re French and I’m American, we just can’t be together.”

“Soldier, no.” Spy was getting frustrated. “The other team they weren’t— that’s not what they meant—”

“I know what they meant!” Soldier remained stubborn. “They think me unpatriotic, and they’re right.” He softened his tone. “I’m sorry, Spy, I can only be with a fellow American.”

Soldier left, shutting the door.

For days, and weeks, and months Soldier moped around the base. Clearly depressed over having to end things, and whining to anyone who had two ears.

“He had the smallest hands, they fit perfectly in mine,” Soldier sniffled.

“Oh bloody…” Demo shoved his powders and capsules aside. “He’s not dead, mate! Just go up and fuck him and quit bellyachin’!”

“But he’s not American!” Soldier sounded anguished.

Scout clicked through the T.V. stations and turned up the volume. “Put him in an Uncle Sam costume then.”

“That’s not the same!” Soldier shouted over the television.

Between the two, Spy had to yell several times to get the American’s attention. He stepped forward and, nervously, shook his shoulder. Soldier spun around suddenly and nearly fell off his chair when he realized it was Spy.

“Soldier—”

“It’s over! I told you that!”

Scout turned the volume all the way up.

“Please, I have something to show you!” Spy screamed over the rerun of Saxton Hale’s Thrilling Tales.

“I won’t be seduced!” Soldier refused.

“It will only take a minute!” Spy begged.

“I’m a true blooded American!” Soldier insisted.

“Bichette, please, it’s really something— Scout! Turn that down!”

“Get a room!” The youth shouted back.

It was a surprisingly excellent idea. Spy took hold of Soldier’s wrist and hauled him out of the common room and down the hall. The man struggled, pulling back and yammering on about George Washington and Benedict Arnold. Spy ground his teeth at the mention of their names, resentful that he now knew them so well.

“Soldier, please, just look at this!” He thrust a piece of paper at the man.

Soldier held it dumbly for a full minute before Spy remembered he couldn’t read.

“It’s a green card,” he told him.

“But you’re on the RED team?”

“No it’s—” Spy took a deep breath. “It means I’m an American.”

Soldier was quiet, the words sinking in to the pit of his heart and bursting back out in pure elation.

“Really?”

Spy sighed again, this time a little less put upon. “Yes. I’ve officially renounced my beloved France and have become—” he made a sound of disgust “— American.”

“Spy, do you know what this means?” Soldier genuinely asked, excited to break the news to the former Frenchman.

Spy smiled warmly and finished for him, “We can be together.”

“We can!” Soldier jumped, hugged Spy, mashed his lips against the man's and used all the moves he had been taught. Spy melted into the hold, happy to finally have his partner back. “Now, Scout said something about an Uncle Sam costume….”

“Absolutely not.”