1 . Name: ZiGraves @ 2012-11-10 13:47

Every single musician and whisky referenced here is real. Go look them up and try them out, and if you enjoy any of them I can suggest more along those lines.

Demo x Engie, a pairing I see so very little of.

—-

“Didnae think anyone here liked this kind o’ music. How’d ye even hear of it, down in Texas?”

The Engineer jolted upright, nearly dropping the record he’d been about to turn over. The Demoman had crept in, lured somehow by the sound of the record player. Engie realised he must not have closed the door all the way, leaving enough of a gap for music to get out and stealthy Scotsmen to get in.

He fumbled with the record for a moment more, finally regaining control and setting it to the B-side, though not pressing play just yet. He hoped he’d not scratched it.

“Didn’t hear it in Texas,” he admitted. “Heard it out in Edinburgh when I was helping on a prototype for one of the universities out there.”

“Prince Buster, though? Pictured you for an old-fashioned jazz sort of laddie, at best.” Demo was just leaning on the door frame, his face betraying nothing more than mild curiosity. Still, it was enough to leave Engie feeling defensive. It wasn’t like he’d been intending to broadcast his musical tastes, and he didn’t think he should be having them maligned right here in his own workshop.

“Well as it happens, I like it just fine. Got some Desmond Dekker and Skatelites as well. And- and how would some fella from way up in the highlands even know about music from Jamaica, anyway?”

At that, the Demoman’s face broke into an enthusiastic grin.

“Ach, so ye do know what ye’re listenin’ tae! Bloody Soldier dinnae even recognise where alla music he listens tae comes from, and he’d not believe me when I said Chuck Berry was a black man like meself. Ye got any Toots and the Maytals wi’ ye?”

“I – uh – yeah, I do.” Engie pressed play on the b-side and started picking through the meagre selection of records he’d been able to bring between bases. “Y’all take your music a bit seriously up in Scotland, then?”

“Dunno about th’ rest o’ Scotland but… Aye, I do.” Demo peered over Engie’s shoulder into the lone box of paper disc jackets. Some odd stuff in that collection, and a lot of folk music and country besides the livelier records. “Ye get tae bein’ a wee mite defensive about yer culture, yer music, yer history an’ that, cuz there’s always some wee pallid shite wantin’ tae claim the best bits fer himself and leave ye out of it.”

There was probably some truth to that, Engie realised. Lot of good music had only got any attention once folk like himself decided they liked it enough to imitate, and that was a sad truth. He fished out the only Toots record he’d managed to bring with him and passed it up to Demo for inspection.

As the Demoman read through the tracklist and credits, the Engineer returned to flicking through the record box for anything else that might be of interest. “I like to get a good understanding of anything I’m going to be dealin’ with, and that means music as much as machinery. If there’s anyone y’all think I should give a listen to, I’d be obliged.”

Demo was still looking at the record cradled lovingly in his huge hands, and hesitated before speaking.

“Ye know… it isnae often I find another lad wi’ decent appreciation for good music. I’ve a wee dram o’ the good Lagavulin hidden away if ye’d fancy sharin’ it over a song or two.”

“That’d be right neighbourly, Eyepatch.” Engie looked up from the box, clasping a prized Paragons album only a year old. He was struck by the genuine affection his teammate held the Maytals album with. “Don’t ya got any music of your own here?”

Demo shook his head.

“Not a bit. Hadnae the space for it wi’ everythin’ else, all the saltpetre an’ that. I dinnae have a big ol’ truck to carry all me stuff about in, so I got me whisky an’ me weapons an’ a pic o’ me ma, and that’s about it.” His thumb stroked the edge of the record unconsciously. “Been a long while since I’ve had a chance tae really set meself down and listen tae anything much other’n the radio.”

“Well, you’d be welcome here any time. You wanna sit a spell now? Got this only last year if you’d like to try it, and I’ve been meaning to give it another listen.” Engie offered the Paragons album.

“…I’d like that. Cheers, lad.” Demo perched himself on one of the more stable piles of scrap and leaned back against the wall, letting the music wash over him. He’d missed it.

—-

Music and whisky turned into a regular Friday night occurrence, a good way to wind down after each week’s long war. Demo was always finding just one more bottle of some rare Islay malt or other, and when he ran out of records Engie made a run into the nearest town to pick up some more from its lone little record shop.

They talked about the bands and the history of the music, then on into hometowns and sweethearts back home. Neither man had one, as it turned out. Demo’s mum had always been pressing him into more work, taking another job instead of finding time for girls. Engie just never had any inclination toward love when he had a consuming lust for knowledge instead. Not to say either of them were inexperienced, but as the stories came out over late nights and shared Laphroaig it seemed neither man had ever been able to hold down a relationship for more than a week or two at a time.

“Would ye hark at us?” Demo was at that point where he was beginning to slur but wasn’t quite comatose yet. Another hefty swig from – ah, the unpronounceable Bunnahabhain – set itself working toward the goal of eventual drunken collapse. “Two grown men in our primes and not a bonnie lass tae show fer it! Not even a girl in the next town o’er for the odd Saturday lay! It’s bin that long I’m startin’ tae fear the lads’ll never see action again.” He waved toward his crotch and nearly hit himself in the leg with the bottle. Recalling that he still held the bottle, he passed it across to the Texan.

“I know what you mean, son. Sentries are all well an’ good for a bit of conversation, but they ain’t a substitute for a bit of real human warmth.” Engie wiped the bottle’s rim and took a gulp. “I’d settle for just about anything by now, ‘stead of sittin’ here mopin’ about it.” He considered the bottle for a moment then decided on another little taste of it, just to help the other one find its way down. He chuckled. “By now it’s gettin’ to the point I’d probably not say no to a fella in a dress if he tarted up pretty enough.”

“Oh aye? That meant tae be some kinda jab at me kilt-wearin’, is it?”

“Lord, no, I ain’t tryin’ to make a pass at my own teammate!”

“An what if I wouldnae be too bothered by that?”

Even in his inebriated state, Demo wanted to take the words back right as he said them. They’d sort of spilled out by accident. He had, once or twice, drunkenly eyed his colleague, yes, that was true. But it was a lonely base and he thought he was probably just getting his friendship and fancying mixed up after a few too many drams, and he’d never meant to actually say anything about it. Feeling uncomfortably close to sober, he waited for the Engineer’s response.

“Well, now…” Engie drawled his words out slower than usual, taking his time over the right response through the haze of single malt. “I figure that what two consentin’ adults want to do with their time is their own affair, and as long as they ain’t flaunting it or botherin’ anyone else with it, then it don’t make much difference if they happen to be men or women.”

“Ye’re not innerested, sorry. I shouldnae’ve said a thing. Don’t know what came over me.”

“I didn’t say that, partner.” Demo’s head jerked up at Engie’s soft tone. “But a bit of discretion wouldn’t go amiss, y’hear?”

“Aye, I hear. I’ll be quiet as a wee church mousie.” A wicked grin spread across the Scot’s face and he snatched the bottle of whisky back out of Engie’s hand, hiding it out of the way where it’d not risk getting spilled. “Ye done this before, or do ye need a bit o’ instruction along the way?”

“I’m no blushin’ virgin, but why don’t you c’mere and show me how they do it in Scotland?”

Demo missed on his first attempt, slathering half of Engie’s cheek in a potent combination of alcohol and enthusiastic saliva, but managed to find his target the second time. Engie kissed back, a touch more sober and better blessed with depth perception so as not to misplace his friend’s face entirely. Demo’s bristles and Engie’s stubble clashed with each other and threatened to leave fearsome beard-burns for later, but neither man paid any attention.

At some point, Demo had managed to get himself half on the Texan’s lap and wrapped his arms around the smaller fellow. His hands were more used to seeking a bra-strap than trying to remove overalls and they fumbled their way down Engie’s back until they found a buckle on the toolbelt that seemed promising. A wrench hit the floor with a clang half a minute later, but the belt remained disappointingly in place. His sozzled hands gave up and groped over the heavy fabric at the Engineer’s surprisingly soft arse.

Engie hadn’t quite been paying attention to the artless goings-on behind his back, more occupied with the taste and scent of his unexpected partner. Demo wasn’t one to douse himself in aftershaves and colognes so his throat smelled only of thermite and sweat, offering a curiously smoky, metallic tang to his flavour when Engie yelped and bit down in surprise at having his backside so thoroughly felt up.

“Watch it, lad, I’m no’ made of steak!”

Engie chuckled a vague apology and licked the little indentations he’d left in the flesh, causing the Scot to shiver in a way that went right down his spine and into his groin.

“Do tha’ again.” Demo groaned into Engie’s shoulder as the man gleefully obliged, running his tongue up and down the grooves and tendons of Demo’s neck then nipping at his earlobe.

“You like that, do ya?” Engie asked, breath hot against Demo’s ear.

“Ye bloody know I do.” Demo ground his rapidly firming erection against Engie’s thigh. “Are ye gonna do more’n that, though, wi’ that clever mouth o’ yours?”

“I just might.”

Demo was robbed of the opportunity for a clever comeback when the Texan’s hand snaked up his thigh and grabbed his crotch, kneading it with dexterous fingers. At the same time, Engie bit down against Demo’s neck again and sucked sharply, drawing up a vicious little bruise almost instantly. The calculated combination of pleasure and pain drove the Scot’s body to react without bothering to ask his mind first - his hips rolled forward, head tilted back and throat moaned deeply all at once in a positively vulgar display.

Engie walked his fingers up the outside of his partner’s trousers til he found the fly and let himself in. His fingers nestled through wiry hair, exploring soft skin that sheathed hard muscle before wrapping around the rock-hard cock and guiding it free of the rough fabric.

“Ohh, ye’re good at that,” Demo purred. He held tight to Engie while he worked at the clasps of the overalls. A powerful sense of need gave him just enough of his motor functions back, peeling the thick denim off in a bare handful of seconds and giving him space to plunge his hands inside Engie’s clothing. Up his shirt, to the deceptively pudgy body, and down through his boxers to his hips and arse. The flesh was soft and baby smooth, not peppered with embarrassing scars like Demo’s own. His fingers sank into it, revelling in the softness, the texture, the warmth of it.

“Ye’ve got a lovely arse,” he said, in the half-hope he might get to see a bit more of it. He gave another little squeeze and worked his hands a bit further down Engie’s boxers, cupping both cheeks with lascivious glee.

“Kind of you to say that. Y’ ain’t so bad yourself,” Engie replied. His teeth brushed against Demo’s neck with every syllable, lips and tongue teasing the newly raised bruises and bite marks. Not letting his hands ever actually leave the Scot’s body he managed to get them both on their feet, and from there it was easy to slide his trousers down, offering better access to Engie’s curious hands.

Demo took the same opportunity to slip Engie’s overalls off entirely, dropping them to the man’s ankles and sending the boxers down to follow them. His hands explored with filthy enthusiasm, one finding its way to gently fondling Engie’s balls while the other moved teasingly toward the cleft between his cheeks. Engie’s previously sure hands stumbled suddenly, caught unaware by Demo’s unerring skill in finding such acutely sensitive points.

“Ye like that, do ye? Filthy boy,” Demo murmured. A plan came to mind and he planted his hands on the Engineer’s hips, pushing the man firmly back down onto the crate they’d been sat on moments ago. “You just lean back, there.”

Engie obeyed willingly, a sneaking suspicion forming of what he might be treated to. The Demoman pushed his knees a bit further apart, spreading the Engineer’s legs for a beautifully framed view, pulling the man’s hips close to the edge of the crate and leaning in.

It had been a long time since he’d enjoyed anything other than his hand, and Engie felt breathless as Demo began to lick and suck at everything except his cock. The man was a tease, but damn it did feel good. That hot, wet tongue slowly and thoroughly lapped at the crease of his thighs, at his balls, at his perineum in a way that almost made Engie melt. The little spot just behind his balls was exceptionally sensitive, stiffening his cock all the more and wrenching a moan of pleasure from him that deepened when Demo took one ball into his mouth and continued to tease with his tongue.

The Demoman’s eye was closed as he navigated by feel, following Engie’s reactions to find the best ways to keep the man groaning and gasping. When he noticed the man’s cock was starting to dribble just a touch of precum he stopped and looked up, resting his cheek against the straining erection. Engie gave a longing little gasp and met Demo’s eye.

“Wh- why’d you stop?”

Demo grinned evilly and stood up with his own cock in hand, bending over the sprawled Engineer.

“I’m startin’ tae feel a bit neglected. Gi’ me a hand an’ I’ll finish what I started, hey?”

Engie paused for a moment, then dived in. He wasn’t the kind to tease so much, taking Demo’s head and half the shaft straight into his mouth in one smooth motion. Demo shuddered and grabbed at the wall for support with one hand, resting the other on the Engineer’s shoulder as the Texan took deeper and deeper with every bob of his head.

A stream of half-formed Gaelic obscenities whispered out of the Demoman’s lips, and Engie took it as encouragement. He began to stroke himself with one hand, holding the base of Demo’s shaft firmly in the other to draw out the experience and stop the bigger man from jerking his hips forward so much. It only helped so much, and it wasn’t long before he heard the panted warning:

“Aw, aw fuck, lad, I’m- I’m gonnae-”

The Engineer swallowed seamlessly around Demo’s cock as the Scot came, continuing to suck gently as Demo twitchily rode out the aftershocks before finally pulling back.

“Partner, could you - ?” he gestured to his own hard-on, hand still lazily moving just enough to keep it stiff. Demo nodded with glazed eyes, letting his wobbly knees drop him into place. Half drunk on orgasm and still half drunk on whisky, he was sloppier than before. The wet heat and sheer abandon he applied to the task brought the Engineer near to the edge faster than before, and when Demo finally began to messily lick and suck his cock he didn’t have time to cry out. He came half in Demo’s mouth, half over his face in a gloriously uncoordinated jolt of pleasure, panting as he slumped down on the crate to get his breath back.

Demo shoved him over enough to tangle up alongside, and in the silence afterwards they heard a faint glugging noise. They’d knocked over the open bottle of Bunnahabhain.