[ inception ] [ fanfic / afanfic ] [ dis / trade / srs / projects / 3d / fanart / afanart / oek / tits / rpg / dumps / cosplay ] [ offtopic / vg / zombies / gay / resources / upl ]
Return Entire Thread

No Words To Say (21)

1 . Name: Unbekannt @ 2012-12-05 17:44

A/N: Well, this is my first adult fanfic; I will apologise for my English in advance, it’s not because it’s my second language, it’s because I’m naturally sheet. I also don’t know how to find a beta reader, but I’ll find someone soon.

This is a Heavy X Medic fanfic (surprise, surprise), which has no title yet, but I’m trying to avoid a cliché German title.

Introduction
------------

The large man knew his relationship between him and the team’s doctor was not wholly platonic. He did not know exactly when he noticed the German beyond his function as the obligatory (reluctant) team healer, but Heavy knew the smaller man was more than enjoying their proximity in battle.

At first, Heavy dismissed it as his own imagination combating boredom, when he thought the Medic would snatch glances towards his being. Medic’s job was to maintain his team mates physiology, so him having them under constant scrutiny was the norm, grumbling when they carelessly lost their body parts. But when the dark haired man shot past him today to act as lure for his minigun, Heavy saw the doctor not only snatch a peek at him, but produce a genial smile, before resuming his natural grimace for everyone else. A smile, just for him and only him.

Still the Russian was in doubt. There was something odd (well, odd beyond the mercenaries’ standards) that the Heavy saw in the doctor. Everyone in base had their own eccentricities, but the Medic seem to savour something about his person. Heavy did not know exactly, until he looked through the scope of Sniper’s unguarded rifle.

Spy was usually the gun’s second caretaker, but when Sniper was cooking his own dinner in his truck and the Frenchman was busy being himself, Heavy had the opportunity to look through it. Also, there was a note of on his desk, calling him to the tower that Sniper had made into his own personal nest. He assumed it was another session of beers and thoughts of the day, but Heavy did not know he was waiting for no one.

Past the lens and through the tunnelled vision, Heavy thought there should be some kind of irony, that Sniper could see much more detail with such narrowed vision. Bored with his thoughts, the large man was drawn to the only lit window of their temporary residence, opposite the Aussie’s perch. The sight that awaited Heavy forced his eyes to imitate full moons.

Wet ebony lips pressed against blushing pink skin, as taut stomachs pushed against each other in coital battle. Skewed spectacles did not stop the gnashing teeth from biting a firm neck, which forced strong hips to thrust harder against the latter. Heavy swallowed before letting his jaw hang stupidly, at the sight of their resident Medic being pounded into ecstasy by their drunk happy Demoman. If Heavy thought his German companion was aggressive on the battlefield, he was an absolute demon on his back, writhing and thrashing underneath the Scotsman like a man possessed.

Heavy felt somewhat hurt that the German man was being taken by someone else, but was more conscious of his trousers growing tighter and grabbed his groin in embarrassment. Demoman offered a few more violent thrusts before hunching over Medic, burying his face into his nape, and the doctor threw his head back as his fist caught the ejaculate from his own body. Heavy stared intently at dark fingers wiping the doctor’s come into his own mouth, watching his red tongue lovingly lap each digit clean.

Suddenly and with no incentive, the Medic slowly turned his gaze beyond the window that framed his illicit affair with Demoman, and revealed his perfect teeth with a carnivorous grin. Heavy instinctively leapt back in fright at being caught, letting the rifle clatter unceremoniously on the floor. Heavy composed himself in the dark and felt more vulnerable than the naked men, even when the tower he was spying in was too dark to see into and the doctor was without his glasses.

That glare, that face tearing smile was meant for him. And him only.

He felt a shiver creep up his spine, but his erection did not wane.

2 . Name: Anonymous @ 2012-12-05 18:57

Interesting. Please continue. I look forward to the next update!

3 . Name: Unbekannt @ 2012-12-07 00:16

Chapter 1: Vines

He could not face the older man today, not after what he saw. Heavy washed his face thoroughly, hesitant to look at the bathroom mirror in fear of catching sight of the memory in his own eyes. In the first week of being employed, he saw a starchy, clinical German man, who was quite attractive past the perpetual frown on his face. In due time with a typical Heavy/Medic team, their friendship became a key factor in achieving both personal and team goals. Medic would double his Russian comrade’s confidence with a smile, and Heavy would puff up his appearance to reassure the doctor of his safety.

Then an old, familiar feeling crept into Heavy’s mind, washing his body with thoughts of ‘what if’s’ and ‘if we’, but he was surprisingly patient, especially when it came to relationships of a romantic matter. However, these thoughts which determined his actions and consumed his body could not remain, which spread beyond Heavy’s control and infected the doctor. He felt quite guilty and thought this new element he introduced would compromise their work partnership, but the results worked to the Russian’s favour. A soft, but keen strength appeared in Medic, which produced subtle gestures on and off work. Sometimes the tail of a dove white coat would brush against Heavy, or the larger man would wake up to a sandvich, held by a pair of blood caked hands.

Professionally delicate hands. Hands that held the Demoman’s wrists as they fucked each other’s senses to sexual bliss. Heavy quickly slapped his own face in chastisement and wondered down the hall, when he saw the man he wanted to avoid.

“There is a meeting in five minutes by zat verdammt, Soldier,” said the Medic in his normal, sober tone. “You should get your breakfast quickly.”

“Da.”

Okay, that was not so bad.

“Oh, and everyone’s gettng zheir monthly medical checkup after the meeting.”

Or maybe not.

---------

“Now turn your head and cough.”

“Really, docteur, is it necessary to-”

“I said cough!”

Spy did as he was told with a condescending sneer, and Medic raised his head from his clipboard.

“Hmm...just as I thought.”

The Frenchman exchanged glances from the clipboard to the doctor’s stern countenance, raising an eyebrow in concern.

“You have a cough. That is all.”

The door to the medical office swung open to reveal Heavy, right on cue to find Spy raising his other eyebrow. Leather gloved fingers pinched the lozenges in Medic’s hand, before swiping it away in disdain at the doctor’s dry demeanour. Heavy tipped himself to one side to let their muttering Spy march off, before gently shutting the door. As usual, the Russian would drop his rump on the gurney and force a tired creak with his weight, while the Medic arranged his equipment for the next patient.

Small eyes followed the soft, sway of Medic’s hips as he glided across his office, mentally tracing the older man’s contours from his shoulder blades to his bottom. The doctor was taking longer than usual in preparation for Heavy’s check up, and the gurney creaked in relief for what was to come next. Medic twitched and stayed his hands, when he felt a larger pair caress his hips. Both men allowed their bodies to react naturally, as Medic touched his shoulder to his chin, and Heavy leaned in like a warm shadow to the smaller man.

Heavy brushed his lips teasingly against Medic’s cheekbone, emboldening the doctor to swallow the other man’s lip and complete their first kiss. The younger man quietly gasped at the doctor’s eager tongue, when it darted to meet his own and he happily replied in kind. Desperate fists tightened their grip on Heavy’s ballistic vest, as large hands squeezed the two bodies into perfect union, and stroked the doctor’s broad, tense back. A deep growl rumbled in Medic’s throat before he tore their mouths apart, and lunged at Heavy to reclaim the large man again with a vicious kiss.

Heavy almost fell from Medic’s weight and stumbled clumsily on his own feet, knocking into stray equipment around the office. When he managed to withdraw from the doctor’s unbridled lust, his back was already to the floor. White lights hid the doctor’s face in the shadows, save for the gleam from the rim of his spectacles and his smile.

“(Mein Heavy,)” the doctor whispered, in a dangerously low voice, with desire and sex watering his mouth. “(...Where vere you last night?)”

Heavy froze when he heard those words, which did not disappoint the man on top of him. When he could verbalise his thoughts to broken English, Medic gently placed the tip of his finger against Heavy’s lips and pressed his cheek to his.

“(Ah-ah-ah, mein liebchen, don’t vorry, don’t vorry...)” Medic cooed, stroking the Russian’s shaved scalp. “(He means nothing to me, ja? Ja? Now...)”

“...Fuck me.”

------------------

A/N: Don’t worry, this *cough*smut*cough* story has plot! Will it work? I have no idea!!!

4 . Name: Knight Spendid @ 2012-12-07 05:02

I'm interested to see where this story will go, but also how the fuck did you change the font???

5 . Name: Unbekannt @ 2012-12-07 20:57

A/N: I’m not sure how I changed the font, ‘cause all I wanted was my title in bold! (Maybe it senses fresh meat!) I prefer the default font, but I don’t think I can help it now.

So, here’s chapter two of a fanfic by a erotic fiction newbie. This chapter’s a bit longer, ‘cause I thought the last two looked like introductions. I’ve come to embrace the story title, even if it’s something I found at the back of my mind, but it summarises where I’m going with this fanfic. My German’s pretty bad, but I will try my best!

Chapter 2: Double Helix

Sasha’s owner let her head droop to the floor, waiting in quiet anticipation of the battle. The Russian man thought his prized minigun felt heavier today, but only he and the spectacled man behind him knew the real reason to his fatigue. What happened the medical room was beyond the doctor’s imagination, as he slowly inhaled the faint after scent of carnal sin that rested on their clothes.

In the brief hours before their fight, Medic wasted no time in freeing the Russian man’s member, thick and erect for his mouth’s attention. Heavy almost jerked back at the doctor’s sudden move, but the older man’s zealous tongue on his cock and forced him to remain on the floor. Medic chuckled at Heavy’s stillness and hummed with other man’s member in his mouth, drawing out a deep groan from Heavy’s throat.

Heavy closed his eyes to enjoy the Medic licking and sucking his dick with an insatiable thirst, and failed to noticed a wet sensation running along his anus, until the German man hoisted his feet over his shoulders. Heavy had only once been on the receiving end of another man’s shaft, until the Medic rammed his organ into the tight heat between his legs. The Russian man grunted and sat up, but Medic’s grip on his suspended legs could not be broken. Both men stared at each other, Medic wearing a determined look on his face and Heavy looking slightly aghast at the German man.

“Ngf...I...I thought...you want me to-” Heavy started and Medic sniggered at his reaction.

“Vell, yes, but...” Medic slipped his hand underneath Heavy’s vest, trying to restrain the sexual desperation creeping into his voice. “I vant to do somezhing different for today. Don’t worry, I don’t usually do ze fucking, so...some ozzer time, alright?”

Heavy shifted under Medic’s hold, and excepted the turn of events for that morning. Thankfully, the doctor did not start thrusting yet, which gave Heavy time to get used to his member inside him, whilst Medic teased his thick length with a gloved thumb and squeezed him between intervals.

Heavy relaxed his fists as the dull ache subsided inside him, and Medic took cue to start moving his cock in an out of Heavy, forcing a groan out of him when his cock found Heavy’s prostate with every thrust. It did not take long for both men to lose themselves in wanton lust, moaning and grinding against each other’s organs, as Medic pumped his hips faster in pace with his hand over Heavy’s cock. Medic’s furrowed face broke into a ferocious grin, and in a flurry of guttural noises, he came into Heavy, spraying his semen before the latter followed suit with a hoarse cry. Medic quickly pulled out and swallowed Heavy’s pulsing rod, drinking from his lover as he jerked the last of his seed onto the floor.

When he was done lapping his new lover’s come, Medic dropped his head onto the larger man’s generous stomach, happily spent and exhausted.

“Mission begins in an hour, ladies, so GEAR UP!” the duo frowned in unison at Soldier’s voice on the loudspeaker.

“Rute isst du, Hündin.” Medic grumbled.

“Что?” Heavy looked quizzically at the doctor.

“Nozhing.”

---------

The next one and a half months of his relationship with the Medic was surreal to Heavy. Never in his life had he met a man, or any person for that matter, who was constantly in need of sexual relief. Their regular sex schedule (he could not pronounce those words any faster) included after showers, before bed, early mornings, pre-fights, post-fights, and if the battlefield was littered with enough mercenaries to spill out of a truck, during fights. They were extremely lucky not to get found out, or worse, backstabbed by Spies, but Heavy could only guess that either the Frenchmen had a soft spot for romance, or were too mortified to comprehend what they had seen.

Heavy wondered whether his doctor chose him for his size and endurance to satisfy his lust, because the self titled ‘giant man’ was starting to feel his sexual cravings wane to that of a seasoned prostitute. He could not believe he even contemplated looking for one, before he started sleeping with the bird loving doctor. Stranger still, was Medic’s sporadic, manic behaviour when they made love. It was not the smaller man’s gesticulations that bothered Heavy, as much as the muted smiles that drew attention to his face. Heavy was not a soppy romantic, but he realised he could not find meaning behind the steel blue eyes of his doctor.

The large Russian decided to change the pace of their relationship that evening. Their usual night sessions would start as soon as the couple were dressed for bed, which resulted in them having to remove their pyjamas after five minutes of petting; Heavy wondered why they didn’t just sleep naked in the first place. Sitting on the bed beside each other, Heavy pinched his doctor’s chin to kiss him on the forehead. Soft hands proceeded to caress Heavy’s broad chest, but he gently grabbed his lover’s wrists and pulled them away from his body.

“Vas is-” Medic was about to protest, but it was Heavy’s turn to shush him.

“Doktor...do you like me?” he asked. Medic stared blankly at his strong face. “I mean, does Doktor like Heavy, not just for sex?”

Medic shook himself out of his stupor and replied a little too enthusiastically.

“Of course, mein liebchen, now lets-!” the doctor tried to touch his lover again, but the other man insisted on trapping his hands in his own.

“Wait.” That was not the word Medic wanted to hear, and it was not the last either. “Doktor, I care for you very much. I like you...but why don’t we just-”

“Vas ist wrong?” Medic asked in a stern, unforgiving tenor.

“Why don’t we just...lie down together for tonight?” Heavy frowned when Medic ignored his question, and was more concerned about freeing his wrists than listening to his bed mate’s request. Heavy exhaled loudly and let Medic go, who withdrew from their shared bed.

“Vhy are you acting like such a nun?!” the older man demanded, already looking disappointed for the night. Heavy noticed Medic’s Germanic accent grew thicker when his temper flared.

“Doktor, you always want sex!” Heavy pleaded, but Medic cared for none of it.

“So vat, you just vant to kaddle like two Mädchen?! Pfah!” Medic swung his arm back in emphasis, which did not please the Russian giant at all.

“Come here.” Heavy’s voice turned sober as he rose from the bed to grab the doctor, and the older gentleman darted back in protest. Two large hands swooped in to envelope Medic before he could escape, but the doctor managed to swivel round and face the offending person, before being crushed in a meaty vice.

“Let go off me, schtupid-! I said let go! Let-! Ich gesagt-! Nein! Stoppen-!” the doctor scolded as much as he could, but the larger man simply pressed Medic’s face into his shoulder. Heavy winched when he felt perfect teeth sink into his side, but refused to loosen his grip, and after a few seconds of childish griping, the doctor settled into silence. Heavy’s slowly loosened his hold, to made a warm and more comfortable embrace for his lover.

“...See, doktor?” Heavy whispered. “It’s nice, да?”

Heavy smiled when the shorter man sighed into his armpit in defeat, and gently shifted their weight back to their bed. The amorous doctor tried to rouse an erection from him by running his thighs against his groin, but Heavy simply slumped his own weight onto the offending limb. Medic’s last line of attack was to poke Heavy’s excess gut, but the Russian replied in kind by pinching his tea belly.

After a few minutes of tranquillity, soft, quiet sighs escaped the older man, and Heavy cautiously leaned back to look at his face. Cold, grey-blue eyes were now filled with peace and quiet contemplation, staring blissfully at his collar. Heavy’s large hand stroked the doctor’s hair, combing the soft strands in its natural direction. Hushed snores breathed warmth onto his neck, and Heavy wiped a stray tear from his sleeping lover’s eyes, before he succumbed to much needed rest.

------------------

A/N: In case anyone is worried about Heavy’s butthole, I’ll have you know that this experienced Medic magically excretes lube from his hands without your knowledge! Or, he probably keeps a tube in his pocket, you know, for whoremergencies. Ausgezeichnet!!!

6 . Name: Rex @ 2012-12-08 09:50

Would you like me to beta your story for you? I've linked my email for you in case you do. Just send me a message if you're interested!
On a side note, I just can't get the idea of Medic's finger lube magic out of my mind. I'm going to have to draw this now.

7 . Name: Unbekannt @ 2012-12-10 09:35

Chapter 3: Mould

It is a good day to feel on top of the world. A very good day. We won today and my doctor is keeping his promise.

Medic has not masturbated for four days.

It is strange to think about it that way, but for each day he is ‘not being received’, he masturbates. Every day. I thought he was making a perverted joke, until I found him doing it...wherever there’s a corner for privacy. And yet by appearance he’s so perfect, so flawlessly perfect, that sometimes I’m afraid to touch him, in case he bursts into a messy disarray. I thought a man of science or any human so encumbered by work, had other important things to occupy themselves with, but he tells me he still manages to find the time to masturbate. At least once a day, even for a few minutes. Then he laughs and tells me not to touch the notes on his desk. Or his paperwork. Or anything that is lying flat in his office. I’m worried, and if he was not my bed partner, a little disgusted. Actually, I am still a little unnerved. Imagine what Archimedes feels like. He wouldn’t be the only white thing in doctor’s office, and I had to rub my nose to hide my chuckling.

I asked him what excites him sexually, and his giddy laugh gets louder and more uncontrollable. His sly fingers draw an invisible line across his immaculately arranged medical instruments, across the mahogany table, and then (unsurprisingly), he runs a single finger from the bottom of my testicles, in an effort to lift them from inside my trousers. Instead, he ends up flicking my groin. He can be so lost in his cravings, that his behaviour regresses to that of a child. Mother would box anyone’s ears for such behaviour. He tries to flick me again and I slap his hand away. Idiot.

“Do you like to put your penis on the left, or the right side of your trousers?” he asks, still grinning like a virgin schoolgirl and I shrug. It doesn’t matter. If my balls are itchy, I scratch it, the end. He should know what I am like by now. My doctor then tells me he places it against his belly, sometimes taping it if he has to.

“Why do you-?” I ask and I hate my English. Some ignorant people think I’m stupid just because my English is not on par with theirs, so I speak to them with my fists instead. See? I know three languages: Russian, English and the universal sign language; okay, and with doctor, a bit of German.

He says sometimes during battle, when he smells blood, it brings a sensation which draws blood to his own ‘downstairs area’. Heh heh, ‘downstairs area’. Listening to Scout’s conversations with his doting mother about sensitive subjects is funny. But...really?

“No, it is not just the blood, the adrenaline, the spare body parts for medical practice...many zhings excites me, Herr Heavy!”

I should know.

“Doctor, you don’t have to touch yourself all the time. Don’t you get tired?”

A man can drown in his chortles, and while Medic tries to burst a capillary in his laughing fit, it makes me wonder: if our doctor is masturbating all the time, won’t he get a little tired? We aren’t senile old man, but we don’t have the same youthful, passionate energy like Scout either.

“Why do you do this?”

Now what...what truly worries me about my little doctor, is when he doesn’t answer my questions. Medic is not a shy man and even if he feels reserved at times, he will act accordingly to what the situation calls for. But now...now, he just stands there like a despondent ghost, facing the window to look at nothing outside this room. His unmoving arms are folded behind him, holding one wrist with his own hand. I look at his face through the reflection and I can not even find apathy. It is just a blank sleet that envelops his face, and he’s not even looking out of the window anymore. He just faces the wall like he’s done something wrong.

I do care for my doctor and if our relationship goes further, this cannot carry on. We don’t talk about certain things in our lives, especially the war. (Soldier had a lesson in humility when he learnt that not all Germans weren’t monsters. I think this is why Medic sympathises with Demoman sometimes. Why should they feel guilty for being different?) But I want Medic to feel better. I want him to get better. Whatever it is that puts my doctor in a cage, I want it to resolve itself. And when he gets better, I want to be there for him.

He tilts his head to the side to judge my reaction with a simpering smile.

He has not said anything about it, but he cries in his sleep. It is not a livid nightmare that has him thrashing around, but...something makes him curl into a ball of hopelessness. I find him in this state of mind, when I wake up to a wet sleeve. His breathing is not playful wisps of air, but regulated, strangled, even asphyxiated in his own body. I stroke his back and follow the ridges of his spine, to relieve him of his nightmare and let him know he is being taken care of.

Mutual, physical affection frightens him even more.

When we have sex, he is not knotted like a bundle of sticks, but watery silk in my hands, open and playful in my arms. However, anything outside and beyond the act of coitus, he seizes up like an animal in mortal danger, forgetting how to breathe. I ask him whether the battle has made him tired, and he readily agrees to whatever excuse I have come up with. He pretends to be relaxed, but his shoulders are hard and sharp and his jaw is clenched. I have to massage him slowly, let him know with my hands that I will not hurt him, and after a short while, he unfurls his hands and toes. He tries to hide his reactions from me, but I can see his refusal to reveal this weakness and the embarrassment he feels.

I look up to find the doctor squarely facing me, with taut shoulders to match his posture.

“Vell, it’s evening now, ja? Time for dinner!”

Medic doesn’t wait and scampers past me to the door. It habitually slams shut and I am left alone in his office.

No matter how large I am, if I cannot help my doctor, I am the smallest man in the world.

------------------

A/N: I think Heavy’s an amiable guy, past the giant fists of killing people to death. I kept on thinking ‘I’m Heavy, I’m Heavy’, in hopes that I can be as true to this character as I can, then I realised I’ve been eating giant sandwiches the whole day.

Warning: Some/every chapter may contain fluids, please provide your screen with a tissue for the issue.

8 . Name: Anonymous @ 2012-12-12 15:08

I am intrigued this story!

9 . Name: Unbekannt @ 2012-12-18 18:38

Chapter 4: Eyes

In the morning, he wakes up half an hour earlier than everyone else, alone or with bodily accompaniment. He is the first to use the showers, unless the French gentlemen does so, and returns to his room, wearing his basic uniform that completes his stern countenance. After a brief overview of his research, he joins the others in the canteen for breakfast, which is obligatory for the activities that are to follow later in the day. Silence is encouraged.

Then war. Today’s performance was less than satisfactory, but victory was ensured. A casual review of team performance is discussed during dinner. Recreational time is subjective depending on the individual. He exercises despite the minor aches and pains, and takes another shower before more paperwork. Or so he thought, until a visitor disrupts his fastidious schedule.

-----

“Doc, are you busy?”

“No, Herr Engineer, vat is it?” Medic recognises the consternation in Engineer’s voice without the visual cues. The shorter man’s helmet was humbly tucked underneath his arm, and a red silhouette frames his sky blue eyes where his goggles usually sit. Medic carefully rests his pen as the Texan closes the door behind him, blocking it with his stocky frame.

“Have you, erh...” he rubs his shaved head and searches the room for a point of interest. “Have you seen Heavy lately?”

“No.” Medic answers curtly and is already suspicious of the conversation. He raises an eyebrow at Engineer, in recognition of the latter’s uneasiness.

“Oh! Ah...well-”

“Engineer.”

“We all know.”

“Know...?”

“About you...and Heavy.”

The older man’s fears have come to fruition again.

“We heard you two, and...”

Engineer meekly waves his helmet, but Medic’s whole body is already frozen in fear. He opens his mouth stupidly, but thankfully, Engineer spares the pale faced man the agony.

“We aren’t-” the American was also struggling for words, grumbling at his own awkwardness. “Well, we all discussed it and-...just...don’t worry, alright?”

The shorter man now looked straight at Medic’s face, who was still stunned like a frightened sheep. A strange pang of guilt rose to Engineer’s throat when he saw how terrified the doctor is, because the older man could not find the emotions to react. Engineer already came to his own conclusion that Medic is his intellectual friend, who was always there to offer a second opinion and provide mentally stimulating conversations. Also, he knew the doctor is an honest man towards his friends and would at least reveal his intentions, before conducting any wild-eyed experiments to give them a head start.

“As I said, we’d all talked about it, and agreed that it’s none of our business what you do in your own personal life.”

“(I could go to jail),” Medic whispers in a deadpan voice.

“Well, Spy did point out that our contracts state, that any information acquired about our teammates or the nature of our work is strictly confidential even after employment, so you’re safe there. And I don’t think you’re the only merc here who hasn’t done something illegal.”

“(Do they hate me?)”

“Son,” Engineer starts, despite Medic being the older of the two. “I’m not a hundred percent sure what they think. ‘Course, Soldier started yellin’ ‘bout his list of things that are un-American, the young un’s probably gonna be difficult about it, Pyro started clapping, and the rest are mindin’ their own beeswax.”

“(What do you think?)”

“Honestly? I am and ain’t surprised at the same time. But if I had to think about it, I can’t come to a proper conclusion, ‘cause it ain’t my field, y’know?”

“As a friend?”

“Hell, it may be unnatural to some, but...” Engineer lifts his right arm, clicking his mechanical digits with every minute flex. “I for one, ain’t one to judge. And we did ask each other, what’s so natural about our jobs? Our very lives even?”

Medic slowly deflates into his chair and Engineer offers a sympathetic smile, scuffing his feet against the floor.

“If we were born a few decades ago, Demoman wouldn’t be sitting next to us, you know? And every day we’d kill each other, die, and come back to life! Who’s heard of that? Heck! We’re playing God with our own lives here! And with your-!” he paused. “I mean, in your case, I’ve seen this kind of thing on farms before. Not with people! But, watching the animals, and-! Not saying you are! But, it’s not-! Well, it’s not as if-”

“Engineer.” Medic’s soft voice echoes the room and lets the other man rest his case. “Thank you, for coming here to talk to me.”

“Just keep it down, okay? It’s a little...!” Both men chuckle nervously and shuffle in their places. The shorter of the two walks up to his colleague’s desk and both men shake hands as friends.

“Zo...zhey voted you to come here to talk to me?” asked Medic.

“Yeah...” Engineer grumbled in reply. “Lil’ string bean just shouted ‘not it!’ and everyone raised their hands. I was last.”

“Huh...Vat about Heavy?”

“He’s next,” a small sigh escapes Engineer, but he soon lights up at Medic’s suggestion.

“I could tell him for you.”

“Thanks, doc,” Engineer placed his helmet comfortably back on his head. “He’s a big guy and I’d like to keep my physical aesthetics sound.”

-----

“So...now whole base knows,” Heavy mused, while stroking the doctor’s shoulder with his thumb.

“Ja.”

“And they are okay with us?”

“Herr Engineer said ve should be qvieter,” said Medic in a languid tone. Both men were practicing their semi vows of silence in Heavy’s room, enjoying each other’s warmth and waiting for sleep to enrapture their consciousness.

“You mean you should be quieter,” Heavy poked the smaller man and the lovers sniggered at each other.

“Doktor can never be quiet, because you are man of passion,” the small rustling body told Heavy his German counterpart was going to prove that compliment, and he held his Medic closer so he had to lie still.

“Are you sill worried?” Heavy asked and heard a small huff escape his partner. “A-...a lot actually. You should know.”

“Don’t worry, Doktor, I am here,” Heavy gave his lover a reassuring shake. “If anyone tries to hurt you, I will protect you.”

“Vat are you going to do? Eat zem-? OW! (You and your giant fists),” Medic nudged Heavy and rubbed his face into his chest.

“I want to know more about Doktor.”

“Vat do you mean, mein liebe?”

“Just...more. Not to break contract, but...maybe, every day, we tell each other one thing about ourselves.”

“Sohowmanypeoplehaveyouhadsexvith?”

“Hurh?”

“How many people have you slept vith. I vant to know,” Medic chirped.

“Erh, why do you want to know dat?”

“You vanted to more, so you start first. How. Many. Men. And vimen. Have. You-”

-----

“-And dat is why Doktor is angry at me.”

“Mon ami, you never tell, not at zis point in your relationship anyway. You can be too honest sometimes, non?”

“He’s right, mate. Lookit’ the Doc’s stewin’ in his office right now.”

The cool air wafting into Sniper’s nest brushed Heavy’s frame, and soothed his nerves somewhat. As he was nursing his beer, Heavy recalled what he was about to reproach the duo for, and banged his beer on a crate. “Why did you tell team about Doktor and I?!”

Spy quickly raised his hands in innocence and Sniper refused to look up from his scope, but he was the first to speak in defence of the Support team.

“The team found out by themselves and were talkin’ about it, mate. They were getting pretty riled up too, so Spy said-” Heavy shot a furious look of betrayal at the Frenchman.

“Spy is BIG BABY TRAITOR!!!” the suit almost vanished away from the towering Russian hulk, before Sniper interjected again.

“Calm y’self, mate, he HAD to speak up, because they were gettin’ paranoid! Look, we trust you enough that ya’ won’t bum us or nothing, but no one else shared the same sentiment.” Sniper’s words made Heavy sit back down on the warm crate, and Spy whips out another cigarette after the first jumped off his lip. “They were inventing things about you two, and we only confirmed that you two were together...and nothing else. Alright, mate?”

Heavy let the words sink in and looked away in defeat.

“How ‘bout you have a regular chat with everyone t’morrow at breakfast and let their fears rest?”

“Like what? ‘Hello babies, Heavy won’t sex you all?!’ Huh.” Heavy huffed and drew a mischievous grin. “Maybe you and Spy are also ‘together’, drinking here every day...alone.”

“Uh, no, mate,” Sniper replied, and Spy had his own statement to add. “I have friends with similar ‘tastes’ to yours, but I can assure you that I am NOT like you.”

“I did not, and never ever will, enjoy watching you bummin’ the doctor when I find you two through my scope, alright, mate?” Sniper made a face to himself at the thought of his teammates behaving amorously with each other.

“Really? I thought that’s why you are up here every day, bushman!”

“YA’ BLINKIN’ TIT HEAD!”

-----

“Is this yours, Jew?”

“Guh!”

“Who gave you permission to move?! Fucking shits.”

“I thought so. Disgusting, isn’t it? They breed like rats.”

“Heh, this one looks like one.”

---------------

A/N: I tried something different with the way I wrote this chapter and I absolutely loathe it, so to those who major in English (or common sense), feel free to print this out and beat me to death with it. On another note, I don’t litter their speech with too thick accents, because I personally find it distracting; but only for what I write, everyone else does it perfectly.

As far as I know, the majority of animal species do engage in same-sex behaviour, but it’s only human beings who practice homophobia.

10 . Name: Venotorus @ 2012-12-19 02:20

I agree with the accents thing: which takes its toll on me since I don't know how to write them and have difficulties with writing phrases or slangs that will suit the language or accent, but even if it's right - I think you wrote this perfectly. Sometimes it's good to write something different, it's good to try new things out: relieving for the writer and the reader at the same time.
Good job.

11 . Name: !Deleted @ 2012-12-19 02:21

This post has been deleted.

12 . Name: Unbekannt @ 2012-12-28 20:49

<b>Chapter 5: Pitch</b>

As the men trickled into the canteen for breakfast, Scout was still unnerved by the presence of one teammate that always in the room.

“Why are you even here?” Scout asked, spewing pancake flecks from his mouth.

“Hmh?”

“I mean, you don’t eat nothin’!”

“Huh hurh, hurh huddah hurh hdhh hrrhm hrh hurhuduhuh,” Pyro sounded in a reasonable, intelligent tone. Scout couldn’t tell whether the rubber suited human was being social at breakfast, gesturing to Archimedes eyeing the crumbs, or was lost in the recesses of it’s own mind again. The Bostonian rudely shook his head and waved Pyro off, until someone else caught his eye.

“Hey there, eye patch!” he called with extra gusto, to the chagrin of the bomb expert.

“Don’t ye’ bloody scream at meh, so early in the mornin’!” Demoman waggled his finger at the young man, shaking his bottle of scrumpy at the same time. “Yeh do that on purpose an’ I outta chin ye’!”

Demoman groggily dropped himself on a chair, swiped the cereal box that was beside Scout and poured whatever was left into the bowl in front of him. The bowl had remained untouched except by one, because the Scotsman claimed he would certainly wash it after he was done with it. Five weeks later, it became Demoman’s personal bowl, which reserved Demoman’s personal seat, and the man claimed it with pride whilst eating cereal with cider.

“Good mornin’ y’all,” Engineer chimed as he passed through the doors, looking a little haggard for the day. He slouched as if it was a burden to carry his own weight and humbly shuffled his heavy feet to the dining table, helping himself to the morning brew after Sniper. Both individuals had their own eyewear to conceal bloodshot eyes, having indulged in another sleepless tinkering with their weapons of choice.

A familiar white mist slowly materialised in the mess hall, to reveal an elegant, perfumed figure with his coffee and a perfectly round bread roll in his gloved hands. In equal performance, a loud, warm blooded man parted from the black smoke in the kitchen, and Soldier admired his American eggs that resembled American charcoal. Spy cleared his throat, so that everyone can acknowledge that they are being graced with his presence, as he was unfortunately still with theirs. Pyro welcomed the billowing black air, but the Frenchman took away his enjoyment by opening the windows.

“What the hell’s that supposed to be, Soldier? Looks like ass,” Scout remarked, but Soldier rebuffed him. “Only the best eggs to ever come out of this free land, son!”

“It’s like my kid’s oven baked clay project,” Engineer added. “After they failed.”

“It’s freedom breakfast!” Soldier defended his food.

“It’ll definitely free your teeth there, mate.”

“Hurh hudduh hrrm huddah, hurm,” Pyro’s muffled wisdom and the strong smell of carbon brought Soldier to slow realisation. He glanced at the other helmet wearing American, and Engineer could tell Soldier was giving him the saddest, obscured eyes he could muster.

“Engieeee...”

Engineer growled in defeat and got up from his seat. “Alright fellas, who else wants eggs-?”

Everyone within earshot raised their hands, and Pyro loyally followed Engineer to help, happy to bathe in the remaining grey air at the same time. Within minutes, everyone was enjoying their shared breakfast, until the centre of yesterday’s attention walked in. A thick silence filled the room when all eyes were focused on Medic, who ignored their stares and darted into the kitchen. Everyone waited for the doctor to join them, but the flustered man cradled his coffee mug tighter and hurried to the door instead. The German doctor was about to make a clean escape, when he slammed into wall of meat and looked up at the perpetrator.

Now the whole team was in the mess hall, and Heavy felt his partner’s whole frame freeze at their predicament. It was then that Medic remembered his anger from yesterday and scowled at Heavy, side stepping him to leave the room, when a large pair of hands snatched his shoulders and twirled him around. The doctor whinged and griped under Heavy’s grip as he was being pushed to the table, his ankles doing little to stop his advancement, until his rump was planted to a chair. A perplexed Scout sat in front of him as Heavy assumed the last free seat and helped himself to a sandwich, which triggered the rest to awkwardly pick at their food.

“Izzit contagious?”

Scout earned a deathly grimace from Medic, and the doctor sighed inwardly when he noticed the others were still gawking stupidly at him. The doctor was already hating his situation, knowing that most of his teammates did not want to anger Heavy, so they turned to him instead to prod and pry for answers. Fortunately, Heavy was sat next to Soldier at the far end of the table, so both men could engage each other in a small game of hostile eyeballing.

“Herr Scout, ve have known each ozzer for weeks. If it was ‘contagious’, you vould know. And no, it is not.” Medic was about to help himself to breakfast when the curious Bostonian peeped, and the doctor stabbed his eggs in defeat.

“Why’re you so gay you like guys anyway?” Medic raised an eyebrow at Scout’s personal gauge of the varying degrees of homosexuality.

“Because it is natural,” he answered in a matter-of-fact tone.

“No it’s not-” Scout was cut short by Medic already looking more bored and deadpan than usual. “Scout, you flew inside a dead, metal object to get here, conzume drinks zat bites back and jump on air. So natürlich of you.”

“That’s not what I meant, old man, an’ you know it!”

“Hrr...okay,” the doctor pinched the bridge of his nose, before looking back up at their youngest team member and laid his palms on the table. “Imagine a vorld vhere everyone loved the same sex-”

“’Big gay world, yeah.”

“Yes, big gay vorld. Anyway, on zis vorld, you are ze only man who likes vimen, and zhey all think that YOU are the unnatural one-”

“-But it ain’t unnatural!”

“Und vhy is that?”

“Because it just ain’t, okay! Whaddya’ gettin’ at?!” Scout was bouncing in his seat when Medic gave him a meaningful look. “Think, Junge. Imagine vat it vould be like, if everyone told you vhat you are doing is wrong, when you feel and KNOW zat there is nozhing wrong with yourself. Vell? Do you think it is fair?”

“Um, no. It, ah, it kinda’ sucks, doc,” Scout switched his gaze from the Medic to the floor, scratching the itch out of the corners of his hat.

“Yes. Yes it does.” Medic nonchalantly picked up his fork to resume his breakfast, looking like a satisfied parent having passed his worldly insight. The young American watched the man in front of him leisurely eat his food, and Scout replaced his guilty look with one of youthful bravado.

“Well-! FINE! But I’m watchin’ ya’! A-An you betta’ not rape us or somethin’ when we’re on the operatin’ table! I’m warnin’ ya’ there, doc! Yeah!” A few cheeky smirks graced the faces across the table, and Scout puffed his chest in pride of his words.

“Entschuldigung, Herr Scout, I don’t mix my medical profession and my personal life togezher! (Most of the zhe time, anyway,)” Medic huffed. “And just because I like men doesn’t mean I vant to ‘get’ zhem all zhe time! Do YOU chase every woman you see on zhe street?!”

“Bad example there, doc, try again!” Engineer guffawed at Medic’s last comment and the team roared with laughter at the angry Bostonian’s expense. Heavy gazed from his seat at his partner’s relaxed demeanour, and could not wait to be alone with his doctor later.

---

“Why did you do zat?!” Medic turned to Heavy as soon as they entered his office. Heavy understood why the doctor was not in the best of moods this morning, but he could not comprehend why he was absolutely livid right now. The doctor’s stringent, rigid mannerisms were now tissue-thin barriers to his anger, barely restraining the shaking fists or the throbbing veins on his temples.

“Why is doktor angry now?” Heavy knew he was asking rudely, but he could regret his choice of words later. “We have team talk and now team thinks it is okay! I want team to understand and they understand!”

“And I don’t!” Medic rasped between grit teeth. “I vanted to leave zhe room and you put me back zhere with your big paws! I had to explain everyzhing to them, while you sat zhere smiling like a big...dummkoph Bär!”

“At least team is not going to kill us both,” Heavy shrugged with his comment, counting them with his fingers. “And they also know we don’t get sexy all the time, and you like burds, and-”

“I’m not talking about zat!” Medic started pacing the room like an agitated cat, each step getting heavier by the second. “And I HATE zis ‘opening up’ and ‘getting to know me’ zhing you are pulling again! You alvays find any excuse to do zis to me!”

“And what is wrong with dat?” a reminder of his attempts at getting to know the Medic, stirred the familiar frustration from Heavy’s gut to his chest. He had an idea of when and what not to ask his doctor, but Medic’s extreme sense of guarded privacy made him feel almost despondent towards their relationship.

“I share with you and you get angry! I give and you do not care! Doktor is selfish!” The tail corners of Medic’s broad coat stopped flicking the air with every turn. Curled lips revealed a perfect white snarl, as Medic turned and squared his shoulders with Heavy.

“Who said I vanted to share anyzhing with you?!” he hissed and Heavy jerked back in shock. The larger man could not believe that such acidic words came from a man he considers beautiful (or majestic even), and that those words could be reserved for him.

“You are like a demanding, little-! Fucking fraulein!”

There were words he knew, and then there were words he hated.

A sharp pain ran across Medics face and a large fist balled the front of his pristine coat, yanking him towards a very large, and very angry Russian killer. Medic felt his feet leave the floor, and instinctively caught his glasses when Heavy shook him like a rag doll. His cheek started to turn a stinging red from being slapped, as a thick drop of blood started to peek from his nose.

“You are COWARD!” Heavy held a murderous glare that threatened to burn holes in Medic’s forehead. “People like you, people want to know you, but no feeling! No nothing from doktor because he is big baby!”

“You schtupid-! SHUT UP!” Medic pulled his face away from his partner, clawing at the massive hand that was crumpling his coat collar, but the Russian man lived up to his namesake and slammed the doctor against the wall, crushing him with his weight. Heavy’s voice became dangerously low, and spoke to the smaller man with a seething growl. “Why you scared, huh? Scared of being sad or of being happy? If you are coward because doktor don’t want people, don’t want friends, don’t want Heavy then say! Say no and we don’t waste time!”

“D-Don’t put vords into my mouth! Put me down! PUT ME DOWN!” Flailing limbs tried to pry the doctor from the wall, but Heavy would not relent and ignored his pleas until he was satisfied with saying his piece. “You don’t want anyone to know you because you are scared, because you don’t trust! You don’t trust people, then no people trust you! You are so scared you cannot even make lie about yourself! Because you! You are BIGGEST COWARD!”

“NNNGH! NEIN! NEIN! <i>GET OFF ME! <b>GET OFF ME!!!</i></b>” the doctor’s frantic, high pitched cries finally reached Heavy’s ears, and he unceremoniously dropped the doctor to the ground. A rubber gloved fist knocked Heavy’s jaw open, which did little to harm him, but Medic was driven by instinct and ran from his own medical office.

Heavy exhaled loudly and let himself out of Medic’s office, already regretting the long day’s work that was about to follow.

---

“Don’t worry, don’t worry. You know I will take care of you. As long as you do your part here, with me, you won’t have to live with all the other dogs outside (so dirty and impure). You are mine, now. Come. Come here. You know what to do. You are so funny, you know, like a squirrel, trying to hide away your food. Come here...aah, that is a good boy. What do you say?”

“Thank you, master.”

“Ah! And you’re so clever, too.”

13 . Name: Freizeit @ 2012-12-28 23:39

Oh no, Medic's trauma is finally unveiled. I was confused by the snippet at the end of the last chapter, but now it falls into place.

This story is wonderful and I can't wait for the next chapter! Kudos to you, Unbekannt!

14 . Name: !Deleted @ 2013-01-28 13:37

This post has been deleted.

15 . Name: !Deleted @ 2013-01-28 13:38

This post has been deleted.

16 . Name: Unbekannt @ 2013-01-28 13:39

Chapter 6: Evolution

A/N: Verdammt, I forgot how to edit the previous chapter and now you can see my stupid attempts at html. UGH. AAAAGH-okay. Also, I’ve kept the teams ‘colour free’, so you get to pick which colour you imagine them to be. Thank you for the compliments and for reading my fanfic!

---------------

They once called him unobservant, but he was not UNAMERICAN! They said he was not of sound mind, which doesn’t matter when his heart beats like a THOUSAND BALD EAGLES IN FLIGHT! They even once said that Soldier was not a real military combatant, SO HE-!

...Fed them his shovel.

HE FED THEM HIS SHOVEL! A hard lesson to swallow and their very last meal, high in iron and one sentenced clichés.

Anyone who was told and retold in loud volumes, knew to not ask Soldier anything anymore, which suited him. For the America serving patriot knew, that his beloved country had already conquered the sugar-crusted, globular mistress that is Mars! To entrust such delicate information to the vision impaired man was the wisest choice, made by the secret informants that visited him via his nasal habits. So confidential were these visits, that he even had to hide this information from his closest, one dimensional friends: Iron-Eye, Salty Pete, and Pepper Pote-Petey-Pepper...Pot Pants..Soldier thought his friends should keep to one code name.

As for now, he continues with his daily life, bathing in the giblets of his enemies and bellowing at their rotting heads (new friends). The only niggle he had about his current job, was that two of his teammates (communists) are homosexuals (vampires!), and are probably infecting the base with their invisible gay rays. Soldier thought they could have been the perfect soldiers, the very duo of destruction, near impassable, steadfast and unstoppable, were it not for their untimely sexuality that affected their work.

To the Scotsman however, he noticed that the European combo were not at their best today, discerning the unspoken, subtle lack of camaraderie between them both. He saw with his good eye that Engineer also recognised the couple’s awkward tension, and the Texan hastily adapted the arrangement of his buildings to compensate for the tactical shift. He did admire them for being brave about their relationship this morning, but Demoman preferred to keep his tryst with the resident doctor a secret, as he knew the drunken, one night stand was to satisfy his sex starved body and nothing more.

The gust from a rocket blew over his shoulder, warning him of the opposing team’s soldier. Without warning, an even larger gale forced his cheeks open, and the bloodied hand of said Soldier sat on his lap. The Scotsman grinned at his team’s Pyro, who just air blasted the rockets back and gave him an encouraging thumbs up. A starchy smell assaulted his nose, as Medic’s coat swiped his nose when he ran by. Demoman estimated it must have been two hours, since the Medic had literally given Pyro a welcoming leash to life.

Before each fight, all team members form a uniform line, making minute adjustments to their equipment or staring straight at the shutters in casual formality. By the fifth day, every newcomer learns their positions by heart, arranging themselves to suit the group’s dynamic. Since their team was more seasoned, they kept to their own clique and proved to function better, to the benefit of their employers.

The smell of gun solvent and sweat from Heavy, became a familiar and comfortable scent in front of Medic. The black, tight material of his vest creaked with every rise and fall of his muscular back. His triceps made small waves over his skin, as he readied his minigun. A tingling stir threatened to betray his arousal, and Medic clenched his buttocks in memory of their liaisons. Seconds before each battle, the aloof doctor would have attacked the man in front of him, if he was not to be released into the awaiting fray. Pupils constrict at the flash of sunlight, mouths rumble with the carnivorous songs of battle cries, but he cannot be revealed. The Russian man is slower than he, he who needs to shower in the blood of carnage, he who is quick with surgical precision of the deadliest harm, he who waits.

Like an obedient hound, he waits in his corner to be fulfilled of his needs, needs that can be satisfied with fluids of maroon and white. He grows more excited watching the glowing length extend from his gun, allowing the men to complete the art of symbiotic relationships. An explosion startles the nest and white wings pull to the sky, with sweeping tail corners flicking the ground. The other man’s happiness becomes his own, to share and to spread through the tendrils of his body. Killers’ howls of agonising joy suffocate the earth and the space they inhabit. After a successful battle and the übers dissipate, the elation remains buried in their breasts, coveted but not concealed; the penultimate bliss that cannot be created by any medigun. It fills him, shooting through his brain, killing him and bringing him back to life with every heartbeat.

But the dog is not a dog today. He is not even an animal, not even bacteria, not even unwanted space. He was almost nonexistent, almost nothing, but a small virus manipulating the universe that he owns and inhabits. It made him knock the barrel of his medigun to the man’s shins. His virus now becomes shared. The other man elbows him in false protection of worse dangers in front of them. They cannot survive without each other, but they cannot communicate properly either, dragging themselves to doom as the imminent unfurls.

Their more perceptive comrades noticed that both men added venom to their commands, growling maliciously for each others blood then that of their enemies. When Medic deployed his übercharge, his sudden change of recipients left Heavy abandoned and dry, and the doctor would spend it on Soldier or Pyro; even Spy got more attention than they wanted today. Heavy treated the doctor in kind by leading their enemies to him, and abandoned the isolated man to many painful deaths.

The day ends and there is no modest self realisation, but air-stabbing fingers and spit to match the accusatory hatred. Medic receives another blow to his nose and the team had to separate the men back to their respective corners.

Shouting matches continue in the office, fuelling the anger and feeding the need. The evolving lust wins before anger and they attack again, tearing fabric to throw buttons and reveal flesh. Heavy suckles the man’s neck, as smaller limbs entwine virgin white cloth. Chests press against each other, rubbing hair and heat, mixing sweat and stirring manhoods. The Russian man hated thick belts, snapping the buckle and splitting the brown trousers by the threads. Medic’s need was not whole, as the other man’s clothes were obstructing their members from meeting. German curses and cries were called and whimpered, needing their pubis to rub without the coarse, sandy cloth. Heavy curled the doctor violently, found his entrance and plunged in without warning, knocking the air out of him. Medic’s voice grew higher, shaking and stammering in pace with Heavy’s dick pumping furiously in and out of his hole, before halting to a torturous pace and maintaining slower, teasing thrusts.

A brief interruption brings Heavy’s mouth around the doctor’s throbbing member, and the older man sucks in air through his teeth. The slurping, greedy mouth becomes painful, and Medic tries to interrupt the ache by pressing his knee against the giant’s collarbone, but the larger man slaps the small interruption to one side; wrestling thighs firmly apart, he digs curled fingers into tense skin. A guttural whine erupts when Heavy stops and slams the doctor onto the nearby table, sheathing himself into the tight heat once again.

Sharp fingernails dug into the Russian man’s arms and Medic reinforced Heavy’s hold on his hips, growling with his lover. Agreements with his lover, God and the universe was spoken in a rambling, stumbling form of German only the doctor could understand. His arms were knocked over his head again, and a warm tongue tickled, traced and licked the curvature of his ears. A large palm pressed his stomach, before trailing down to grab hold of his throbbing shaft. Futile thrusts against Heavy’s hand were unrewarding, as he refused to massage the man, taking his helpless member hostage. More curses filled the air, but the deep rumble of Russian sentiment put him in a trance. Finally, Medic apologised with complete submission, relaxing his body and accepting the gargantuan man on top of him.

Heavy’s hand started teasing his foreskin with the lightest touches, avoiding the angry hips swaying underneath him. His callused hand followed the veins on the other man’s engorged penis, playing and rubbing it between his fingers and his palm. His medic was sorry now, pleading and begging for mercy. Mercy to bring him to his zenith, mercy to be released.

Mercy to be free.

Then, he found Medic’s spot, aiming with desperate precision to bring the other man to live and die again. Heavy pulled the man’s length in time with his hips, grinding their thighs together, feeling prickly goose bumps against his own, as he fucked harder and faster into the hapless man, rendering him mute from ecstasy. The rhythmic slaps echoed in tune with his declarations of having found beauty, love and untameable lust, finding their own religion with their bodies as temples of avid worship. The doctor could not breathe, as he was being assaulted by sensations familiar and new, discovering lost, forgotten emotions, hazing his vision and stealing his soul. Heavy was undoing the man that was wooden in appearance, ruining his guarded perfection and revelled in it.

The Russian man’s hips did not relent or slow down, and Medic felt the burning sensation surrounding his body. Unable to contain his being anymore, he pulled his head away, crying as he orgasm, with quivering, jerking trembling motions against his larger companion. Heavy roared and burst inside the doctor’s tight heat, filling him with his come and smearing Medic’s seed on their stomachs. Short, pleading shivers breathed past Heavy’s jaw, and he rubbed his prickly stubble against a smooth forehead. A sore feeling overtook Medic’s groin, and his bottom was decorated with red patches of blood, but he didn’t care. He was alive again. He laughed as proof of his immortality, drowning the silence with his devilish madness.

His master was home.

---------------

A/N: If no one knew/remembered/forgotten, Soldier’s friends are wooden cut outs and I’m not sorry that Medic’s got his butt fucked to the size of Australia (okay, maybe New Zealand, but that’s a funny shape).

As for Demoman, if you don’t agree with a straight man having gay sex, I will leave it to your own interpretation. To me, there is not enough information about human sexual behaviour, but I do know many straight men have had gay encounters and it’s pretty normal for people to question their sexuality.

17 . Name: Anonymous @ 2013-01-29 00:38

You need a beta. There's a decent story here, but it's buried under piles of shifting tenses, confusing imagery, and the occasional odd formatting that makes it difficult to understand which character is talking.

The first few chapters don't even feel like part of the larger story, as you start with having Medic being a sex-crazed maniac who would fuck just about anyone anywhere and not care who sees, and then later have him petrified when he discovers that the entire team knows he's gay. And then there's the Heavy chapter that is written in first-person when none of the other chapters are.

I like the overall story that i'm picking out of this, but it really needs to be tightened up a lot to get the point out that you're trying to make. The shifting verb tenses are especially distracting and take a lot away from the story.

18 . Name: Cat Bountry @ 2013-01-29 13:29

>>17

Agreeing with Anon here.

Misuse of words, stiltedness in speech, metaphors and similies that seem to be all over the place... don't get me wrong, I liked this enough to stick to reading this but hoo boy, does this need some serious work.

I'd be happy to help you and discuss these issues one-on-one, if you want to shoot me an email.

19 . Name: Unbekannt @ 2013-01-29 22:38

Thank you Anonymous (sorry, I don’t have your name :P) and Cat Bounty for the critique, ‘guess I have to explain more in the chapters, but yeah, I have trouble with tenses and I am very rusty (rusty = shitty shite). As for the POV, if the story seems random, it’s because I like playing around with it in this fashion, but...yeeeeeah, I need help.

20 . Name: !Deleted @ 2013-01-30 03:23

This post has been deleted.

21 . Name: !Deleted @ 2013-01-30 13:48

This post has been deleted.

22 . Name: !Deleted @ 2013-01-30 15:51

This post has been deleted.
Delete Post:  
Report Post:  
More...
Captcha
23


- kusaba x 0.9 + Took 0.05s -
Copyright © 2007-2013 TF2chan. All rights reserved.
All trademarks and copyrights on this page are owned by their respective parties. Images uploaded are the responsibility of the Poster. Comments are owned by the Poster.