1 . Name: Anonymous @ 2013-09-22 18:28

So... I wanted some criticism on my first fanfic (actually the first thing I've written for myself in english), and since I don't think some of my friends would like to read this, I'm dropping it here.
English is not my native language, and I didn't really read over this too much, so it's pretty raw.
The fic and the title are inspired by Rammstein- Kokain

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Scout did not want it. Not until the old, yet sterile needle- he always used the same syringe, Scout could make out its shape by now- was slammed into his arm , until his head was being patted and the whispers of the older man mixed with the sweet voices of angels singing in his head.

He knew what the doctor did to him. The ache in his body when pushing the payload cart through Badwater on mondays told him that he was being raped. He always had bruises and bites, sometimes smaller cuts. It hurt every time. But it was worth every second of the fulfilling void, the dreams of the heavens, the meaning of life itself.

But the days between their meetings were filled with hatred and self-doubts. Of course he chose to visit the Medic, but was it really a choice? Would the doctor let him choose? Could he withstand the Medic's offer?
He knew the answer. But he told himself that he could stop it anytime.
He tried it.

"Come along, Herr Doktor."

"Ja."

The Medic was always accurate with his preparation before a match, but the unforeseen event with Scout had kept him busy longer than usual. He normally tested the signal of their Uberhearts before the Engineer checked the connection to the respawn. There have never been any problems, but it was part of their routine and essential for their job.

On Fridays, the last day of work for the teams, Medic always insisted that Engineer scanned Scout first and sent him to the infirmary afterwards. He claimed that, because of the incident with Archimedes, Scout needed special treatment once a week.

They did not do it here. But Medic invited him every friday and took his time with talking Scout into it. But for some weeks now he barely had to say anything, it had always been Scout who started the topic.

But as Scout entered the infirmary this friday, he hardly looked at Medic, who couldn't help but grin. He would try to resist it. So be it.

"What's up, doc?"

"You're here for your check-up. Vhat do you zhink?"

Scout looked confused. "Just askin'."

"Why, is zhere anyzhing else bothering you?"

"N-No. Hell, let's get over with it. Just the checkin'-thing."

Medic ordered the younger man to take of his shirt. He stared at the trained bare chest for a while before he put his gloves on.
That was it. None of the usual hints were given, and Scout was unsure how to handle the situation. He wanted to slap the stupid smirk out of the doctor's face that he usually had when talking about sundays, but it simply didn't show up.
About 15 minutes later, the Medic turned the switch of the Medigun and healed the gigantic cut in Scout's chest. He reached the shirt to his team member and helped him get up.

"Everyzhing is in order, Herr Scout. Make sure to get your overheal before you leave the base to capture the flag and you vill survive almost everyzhing out there, Kamerad."

"Sure. Thanks, doc. Bye." Scout stepped to the door. "Doc?"

A smile. "Ja?"

"Don't you want me on sunday?"

"Oh, there vas somezhing else you wanted from me?"

Scout bit down a tear. "Yeah. I'd like to.."

"You vould like what, Herr Scout?"

"I want the injection."

"Of course you do, but what vill you give me in return?"

More tears to bite down, along with the urge to vomit. "My body."

"Very vell. Come here."

Scout's eyes widened. "What the fuck, doc, the match is in 2 hours!"

"I do not have time on sunday. Various researches vill keep me busy."

The runner gulped. It meant now or never. Not for an entire week. "Alrigh'.. fine."

"Take off your pants. Just zhem, nozhing else. Then face zhe wall over zhere."

Scout did as he was told, He heard Medic lock the door to the infirmary before he stepped closer. A gloved hand gripped his neck and slammed his head to the vall. "If you move, I vill let you hit zhe vall until you wake up in respawn." There was no anger in his voice, the command was merely an act, to demonstrate his control over Scout.
Then he felt the needle in his arm. He relaxed immediately. But something was wrong.
There was no race of colors flowing behind his eyelids, no eternal voices in his ears. He didn't feel different.
Now he knew what felt wrong- it was not his syringe, it was a different one.
Something was pressed to his bare ass.

"Doc, wait, PLEASE! You got the wrong syringe, stop!"

"Oh, so you zhink zhat i vould just let you run to the battlements stoned? You deserve to feel pain just like zhe little Bastard you are."

Scout closed his eyes.
He was entered. It felt the way it was meant to be felt. That's what scared him.

No one whispered sweet, foreign words into his ears, not the Medic, nor the angels. "Du bist das schönste Kind." Tears rolled down his cheek, transparent, colorless, real.

Medic started to move inside him.

There was nothing to be heard, nothing worth hearing, just the sounds of skin clapping against skin, the breath and the grunts of the older man and the humming of old machines.

Medic let out a moan.

There was nothing to be seen. Nothing worth seeing, just the plain white wall in front of him.

Medic sped up.

There was nothing to be smelled. Nothing worth smelling. Just the chemicals of the infirmary, and the stinking sweat of the doctor.

Louder groans, Medic slid his full length into the younger man now.

There was nothing to be heard, to be seen, to be smelled, nothing to be felt. Nothing but the pain in every inch of his body and his mind. There was nothing to think of. Nothing but the end.


For what felt like an eternity, the doctor worked him brutally. He finally, finally began to speed up significantly and cried out. The sound, the smell and the feeling of the wet heat filling his ass were the most disgusting thing Scout had ever experienced. The urge to vomit returned.

Medic sighed. He pulled his penis out of the young man's anus and got some tissues to clean himself up. He handed two tissues over to Scout without saying a word. The runner wiped his sore skin carefully and felt how Medic watched him. The urge to vomit got stronger.

When he couldn't bare the feeling of the rough paper against his skin anymore, he threw the tissues into the paper bin and put his pants
back on. It had only been 10 minutes.
He waited for a word from Medic, an apology, an insult, anything- but there was nothing from the doctor, only the predicting look in his eyes.

Scout made his way to the door once more. When he put his hand on the doorknob, there was a cough from Medic.

"I have an injection ready for sunday. A real one."

Scout left the infirmary. He went to the waiting room and pointed Pyro to the door. "Your turn, mumbles." He didn't wait for an answer, he just passed the room and stepped out in the yard.
He fell to his knees and puked right on the grass. He knew that the smell of the doctor would not leave him for the rest of the day.
And he knew he would be there on sunday.

He collapsed, his head right next to his vomit. Sleep was all he wanted, all day, for the rest of his life, maybe. He asked himself if the doctor was fucking the entire base, maybe the entire world, in exchange for drugs.