Prompt: Sniper/Medic; cum marking, biting, scratching, blood kink with an animalistic feel to it. (Thanks go out to my prompter, who gave me so many options! Sorry it takes a while to get to the smut, I kinda got lost in the exposition... Also... Geez, I kinda spooked myself writing this. Some serious PG-13 stuff going on down below, kiddies, you've been warned.) ----- The wind was howling like a man shot in the arm, Sniper mused. The pitch was just above that of getting smacked in the chest with a blunt instrument, and just below getting an ear cut off. Which was disconcerting – not because it reminded him of the violence that he was a part of just about every other day – but because he couldn't place just what it was that was making the wind howl like that. It didn't make sense that a seasoned outdoorsman like him couldn't pinpoint the source, but he couldn't. The few trees that were around weren't being so much as touched by this wind, and neither was Sniper. Why in the world was there this wind that sounded like it was blowing right into his ear that he couldn't feel? “Bah.†His voice was all but swallowed up by the screaming air. The Australian ducked his head through the shattered window that separated the roof he had been standing on from the dilapidated farmhouse that would have to serve as his roost in tomorrow's battle. The sound was probably coming from something that he couldn't see back behind enemy lines. Or maybe the mysterious employers, for whatever reason, were playing the noise through some of the speakers they had put all over the place (Trying to distract them? Drive them crazier then they already were?). Or maybe he was just losing his touch. When was the last time he had been outside, living off the land, learning from it, having only the wind and dirt and vermin around to keep him company? Too long. The stairs that led back down to the ground creaked dangerously. Boards that seemed rotted through had nails sticking out at angles that didn't seem possible. Had the carpenter squatted inside the staircase, slowly enclosing himself in a prison? How else could he have made sure all the points of the nails protruded outwards like this? Sniper chuckled darkly to himself as he imagined a skeleton below him with a hammer in one bony hand. The Announcer's codename for this assignment had been “Harvest.†In Sniper's opinion, this worthless place hadn't produced anything worth Harvesting in quite some time. Stepping outside of the musty building and into crunchy dying grass made his mood brighten a bit. Between the noise the unkempt lawn made underfoot and the creaking floorboards back inside, this farmhouse just might give him an edge over a certain sneaking spook. His stomach rumbled suddenly, and with surprising volume. “Damn...†he said, placing one large hand gingerly over the gurgling, “Forgot ta eat again...†It had been just a little over twelve hours, now that he thought about it. With the food being the way it was here, eating had become a chore similar to doing his laundry. As a consequence, he had now started to avoid eating until he absolutely had to. At the moment, he felt that he was getting close to that point. Reluctantly, he started moving back towards the run-down work shed in the distance that hid the RED base. The actual barracks were underground, of course, which would have been a clever way to hide everything if it weren't for the fact that it was obvious as all hell. The outside was well-weathered wood and sheet metal, but if you cared to look through the window you could see freshly painted walls, sophisticated-looking colored lights blinking on and off, and a big keypad sitting next to a rather suspicious metal hatch in the floor. It didn't make any sense how the wankers in charge could be so stupid and yet so powerful. All this technology, all of these objectives – when he had first joined up it had seemed so much bigger than him, and now he felt so much bigger than it. As he entered the RED shed and crouched down to punch in the entrance code into the keypad, he let out a sigh. The meaninglessness of all this was enough to give him a headache. A bad headache, actually. “Aw, piss...†Sniper's hunger pains were momentarily forgotten and he moved his hand to his forehead. It had begun to throb gently and it also felt a bit warm. “That's jus' great.†Now that he was thinking about it, the telltale tingling started to dance down his spine and into his limbs; as he entered '1112' into the keypad, his fingers seemed to feel their impact with the buttons more acutely than they normally would. But was he getting sick? Or was it just a touch of weakness from not eating? It could all be in his head – as a practitioner of the Jarate 'arts,' Sniper knew just how weak the mind could make the body. It was just this damn assignment, he decided, climbing down the ladder in the now open passage towards his cool bedsheets and dehydrated high-calorie rations. He wanted to be back home, in Australia, where he knew why the wind was howling. His feet touched the floor all but silently, but the metal hatch's automated re-sealing was noisy enough to alert the base to his return anyway. Not that any of them cared in particular, he knew. “You see anythin' interesting out there?†Scout's voice. It bounced off the metallic walls down here with the same obnoxious energy that the boy himself possessed. Sniper's headache seemed to get worse after it was done jumping around inside his skull. “Nah.†“What? What are ya? Shy? Speak up, ya freakin' wuss!†“He's a mite more considerate than you're bein' right now, son. Kindly lower your volume a few hundred decibels.†Engineer. Both he and the boy sounded like they were in what passed for the kitchen. That meant that today's meal would have to come from the small stash he kept in his bottom dresser drawer. He didn't feel like talking to either of them. Sniper didn't even waste time repeating his response to Scout's question before heading in the opposite direction towards his room. With each step, his knees spread ripples of not-quite-pain up through his legs. If this was psychosomatic, he was in trouble. Not being able to tell the difference between fantasy and reality would get him killed permanently, or worse, it would have him end up like Solider. When the door to his dim bedroom was finally closed (mercifully drowning out the sound of Scout's continuing babble), Sniper pulled the cord of the lonely little lightbulb that hung from the ceiling and lit the room all by itself. Once it clicked on, he moved towards the small mirror he had leaned up against the wall on top of his dresser and studied his face. Those lines were getting deeper every day, it seemed. Sniper's face had always been somewhat thin, but it seemed to him that it looked especially so right now. Without his trademark aviators on, the dark circles under his eyes were immediately noticeable. Still, when he took a step back and gave his reflection a wolfish grin, he reaffirmed that he was still a handsome devil. Sniper had always believed that looking good was a part of being a professional. Therefore, it was rare that he let his stubble grow in or his sideburns get unruly. His head pounded suddenly, urgently. With a hiss, Sniper massaged his temples until it subsided a bit. This pain was certainly real, as was the small bubble of nausea that was beginning to grow inside him. The food that he had so wanted not five minutes ago again seemed like what it was – the most disgusting thing on the face of this planet. Moving in close to the mirror again, Sniper stuck his tongue out and inspected the back of his throat, not really seeing anything, and not really knowing what he was looking for, either. On his solo excursions in the wilderness he had been sick a few times, but thanks to his hearty constitution, things had usually taken care of themselves rather quickly. He would throw up or have the runs, make sure to keep his next meal over the fire until it was more cooked through, and that would be that. It was different here. He had a match tomorrow, and he hated getting killed. It hurt, and respawn hurt, and the blow to his pride hurt. Feeling like this would definitely get him killed. Sniper knew he would probably have to see the Medic, but he dreaded that as well. The man was... off. Definitely sadistic, but that was something all his teammates (including himself, if he was being honest) had in common. The German had something more than that dancing in his seemingly disinterested eyes. Sniper tried to avoid being under their scrutiny whenever possible. “Maybe I'll feel better after some shuteye...†Not wanting to sleep in his somewhat dusty uniform, Sniper threw his vest onto a nearby chair, grimacing at the sound of a few bullets falling out of the chest pocket and onto the floor. Ignoring them for the time being, he unbuttoned his long red over shirt and marveled at how strange the material felt sliding off of his arms. He could feel every hair that was caught by the rough fabric, every small tug of resistance it created. Goosebumps rose all over his body, and the man felt very cold when he was left in just his pants and small white undershirt. The buckle of his belt was so frigid he could hardly believe it. It hadn't even been balmy outside! Not good, not good at all. The belt was slung over his vest on the chair, and his pants soon joined them. Sniper absently scratched himself along the line where the elastic of his underwear met his flesh as he kicked off his shoes, but he stopped everything when he felt a strange, nerveless protrusion on his left hip. Round, and now that he was scratching, it felt very itchy. Not really thinking things through, he scratched at it a bit harder as he lifted his undershirt to examine it. With a soft squelching sound, the bump had been burst just before he had registered what it was. The dim light had made it difficult to tell initially, but the engorged parasite buried head-first in his flesh had been a tick. Sniper wiped the blood on his finger off onto his shirt and wondered where he had picked the little bugger up. He had gotten his fair share of ticks on him in the outback, but was unfamiliar with where they liked to hang out here. Wherever 'here' was. Judging by the amount of blood now on his shirt, the little bastard must have been on him for quite some time, although he knew they could work quick. Maybe it jumped on him from the grass just as soon as he had gone outside? After carefully inspecting his body for further parasites, Sniper gingerly laid himself down on his bed and pulled his blanket up around him. He knew he was running a fever now, and he suddenly felt very hungry again, but he didn't have the energy to face the ordeal that chewing that boot-leather meal would be. Within minutes he was asleep. -------------- When Sniper woke covered in sweat, he found he couldn't comfortably move at all. His joints ached, his head was an overripe gourd starting to rot, and his eyes and nose felt like they were leaking Tabasco sauce. “Damn it...†For the first time, it seemed like this might be serious. A quick look at his clock told him that it was three in the morning. He was somewhat glad he had forgotten to turn his light back off before going to sleep – it would have been unpleasant reaching for the lightbulb's string in the dark like this. “...I wish Mum was here...†Sniper had a good chuckle imagining the insults that his team would hurl at him had they heard that, but he meant it. In these situations, having someone there to get you bland meals and dab your forehead with a damp cloth was better than any doctor. “Ugh... Doctor...†Sniper knew he had two options: either limp his way to the infirmary and hope the Doc was awake, or blow his brains out with his own rifle right now. Neither option was looking great – both the Medic and respawn were unpleasant to deal with, but two things turned the tide against suicide: Sniper didn't really want to wake the base up with a gunshot, and he didn't really know if he could get one end of his huge rifle in his mouth and still reach the trigger. The long shuffle to the Doc's office hurt, it hurt so bad. The waves of not-quite-pain that his knees had made just hours ago and grown and mutated and now he felt like his bones were barbed and his skin was a carpet of thorns and every move he made tore at his flesh from every angle. It hurt so bad that many times the man entertained the idea of sitting down on the floor and giving up, but if somebody saw him... Better to break himself into a thousand pieces than shame himself – this was the first lesson he had learned about being immortal. Medic's door was locked , but there was a strip of light coming from beneath – he was there. Or somebody was, at least. Anybody with a pistol would be fine, really, and he knew that he wouldn't have to ask half of the team twice to shoot him. His knocking was so weak that even he couldn't hear it, however. When had his hands turned into hyper-sensitive lumps of useless nerves? Touching anything with them was agony. But, better to break them than to sit out here like a bleedin' nancy. Clumsily, and with a strange sort of desperation, Sniper took a few steps back and half-ran, half-limped at the door in a hope that his tackle would make an adequate noise. It didn't, unfortunately. Somewhere along the line, his body had become a feather pillow. In a stroke of good luck, however, he stumbled once he hit the door, and hit the doorknob with his forehead with enough velocity to make a good THUNKing noise. It was also fortunate that this, combined with the collision with the floor, was enough to render him unconscious. ----------------- “Sniiiiiiiii-per...†The first thing he heard when he woke up was the strange sing-song voice that Medic sometimes used when in a good mood. He was usually in a good mood when something particularly horrible was happening, Sniper had found. Why, just last week, when the BLU Demoman had gotten split in half by that giant sawblade... “Oog...†Just the thought of it made Sniper feel sick. But... wasn't he just feeling much sicker? Wasn't he... what had he been doing just now? How had he... Why was Medic... “Ah! You are avake! Good, good...Tell me... how do you feel?†As the harsh bright light of Medic's equipment started cutting through Sniper's grogginess, he slowly became aware of many new sensations that made him ponder the question he had just been given. “I...I...†He... felt warm. So, so warm. When had he ever felt so warm? “You vere very sick. I vonder vhat you did to get infected like zat...†The Medic was speaking to him as if he were a misbehaving child whose antics had amused him. “Probably you vere rolling around in a mudhole like ze filthy zhing you are...†A bright orange light was building up inside his chest and it was leaking into the rest of the world. It soaked into everything. The German who was hovering above him looked like he was shimmering in a sea of sunlight. Why did he feel so warm? “You've... you've drugged me...†Sniper was having trouble speaking. His tongue kept getting in the way. He briefly considered biting it to make it stop squirming around his mouth. “Ja wohl!†It was said delightedly, condescendingly. “I had to treat ze illness. Of course, after running zome tests, I found zat your condition vould require too much time und too many drugs to be practical, but zat doesn't mean I can't make the last few moments before I kill you a bit less...†he searched for the right word for a moment before settling on, “excruciating. Vhile I vas at it, I decided zhat zis vas a perfect opportunity to see how ze human body vould react to certain...†Another pause. “combinations.†Under normal circumstances, Sniper would be concerned, but he felt like he couldn't quite grasp why there was anything wrong with the situation. In a base sort of way, he knew; but at the same time, trying to get a grip on the slippery reasons just made them retreat further into his thick, warm, honey scented thoughts. His nose itched, and he scratched it. As he did, a part of him wondered why he wasn't restrained. Another part of him wondered why the ceiling was slowly spinning around his head. That combined with the huge, growing grin that didn't seem to completely fit on Medic's jaw was distracting Sniper so much that he didn't notice the syringe being filled right in front of his face. “Now just try und relax...†The man giggled – giggled – as he said it, and continued to giggle as the needle plunged into Sniper's arm. It was so strange. The feeling of the Needle, it reminded him of the teeth of... of the hot leather seats in... of the soft flesh of the... Medic was holding the bottle he had filled his syringe with up to his light and squinting, as if seeing it for the first time. “Voops. Zat vas not medicine...†He laughed heartily and disappeared from sight. Sniper didn't really care to turn his neck and continue looking at the man. He was far more interested in the way his inner warmth was getting hotter. He was dimly aware of the fact that he had an erection. It seemed like it had been there for awhile. When he closed his eyes, he saw black spotted with brown and orange and yellow and red and RED and when he opened them he was looking through his gun's scope into his own head and he was just about to shoot when Medic started talking again. “I am vONDering if one of the ZIXTY-three(Forty-seven)OneHUNdredundSeventy-Seven ChemicALs I have h-h-h- any efffffffffect on your meMMmmm...Mmmory..†That annoying voice was slowly turning into a pleasant humming that absolutely terrified Sniper. Where in the world was it coming from? He could hear his own heartbeat in his ears, feel it in his chest, in his gut, in his... “Do you remember?†Sniper did a double take. “...Wot?†“I asked ya if you remembered your first time, knucklehead. I know yer a dinosaur, but you ain't a virgin, are ya?†He was back home, sitting on his parents' sofa, in their living room. Sniper couldn't be sure, but he had a suspicion that he was eighteen years old again. Scout, the little piker, was holdin' his hand. “Well?†“Well wot?†A deep, disappointed sigh. “I won't ask again, you heard me.†It was his Engineer this time. The grip on his hands got tighter. “If you forgot, you forgot. Just...†Another sigh. “Be a man and own up to it.†Suddenly Sniper was crying, He couldn't stop it. Yes! Yes he had forgotten! Why couldn't he remember? “Oh GOOd, you REEmmember nozzing? I beLIVE(live?) that You ARE BEYOND zzze POINT OF LYING to me, RED, yourself, your blood, your HEART... Open your eyes... Open your eyes... Please...†Sniper opened his eyes and it was like taking a breath after being a second from drowning. His eyes gasped and tried to anchor his gaze on the shiny metal rod attached to a cabinet. Don't think about anything else, don't look or see or taste anything else. Don't blink. Don't disappear... The Medic moved in front of the cabinet. Sniper looked up at his face, scared. So scared... But the Doctor was smiling, gently smiling. He walked forward and cradled Sniper's head in his arms and whispered sweet nothings to him. “Zhere, zhere. It's okay, you vorthless little speck. I am here, you pathetic nozing. I will protect you from yourself...†As one hand gently ran its fingers through Sniper's hair, the other began fiddling with the buttons of the Doctor's immaculate white coat. Sniper leaned more deeply into the crook of Medic's neck, and closed his eyes, willing himself to be as far away as possible from this freak. Sniper felt like he was dreaming a dream that he could sort of control. It was exhilarating, in a way. The RED base. With no one in it. Just Sniper, getting to relax, getting to run around, getting to scream anything he wanted! The feeling made his head swim, and his skin tingle, and his cock throb. “Unh...†Sniper couldn't count how many times he had come without passion into a kleenex in his room, or a drain in the bathroom, or a girl in a bar. In his dream base, Sniper re-entered just like he had earlier today. Or had it been earlier this year? It had happened, right? “You see anythin' interesting out there?†Scout's voice. It bounced off the metallic walls down here with the same wonderful, warped, strangely innocent energy that the boy himself possessed. Sniper's heartache seemed to get worse after it was done jumping around inside his ears. “Yes. I saw you, when you thought you were alone, apologizing to yer mum for what you were doing. I saw those tears run down yer face. Afterward, I stared at yer ass, feeling like shit fer doing it.†“What? What are ya? Shy? Speak up, ya freakin' wuss!†“He's a mite more considerate than you're bein' right now, son. Kindly lower your volume a few hundred decibels.†Engineer. Both he and the boy were good people at heart. Or he'd like to think so. It made Sniper feel cold every time they killed somebody and laughed about it. How much of that was bravado, though? Had the Engineer ever broken down, cried, and apologized to his mother, or wife, or girlfriend, or daughter? Or maybe he was lying? Maybe he didn't have any of that and was as lonely as... Today's meal would have to come from the small stash he kept in his bottom dresser drawer. He couldn't possibly talk to either one of them right now. Not with his breath caught in his throat, his blood boiling, every inch of his skin more sensitive than it had ever been. He couldn't possibly handle the urge to bend the boy's lithe body over the counter and ram into it while the boy cried out sweetly for him to die-die-DIE you faggot monster poncy wuss! He opened his eyes when he felt his shoulder get bitten into. Only once before had he ever been bitten as rough, and that had been a Dingo when he had gotten in between it and her pups. He didn't scream, he didn't even really hurt. But he could still feel the flesh tear, the skin rip, his blood flow onto the eager tongue that lapped it up as quickly as it came. “MmmMmmMMmm... Mein little toy, now I am as corrupt as you. You are poison right now, did you know zhat? I will now have to die with you. Have you ever heard of zomezing so ROMANTIC?†With a horrible laugh, the man slowly licked across Snipers chest, leaving a faint red trail wherever he went. Sniper dimly noted that they were both completely naked, that Medic's skin was quite pale, and that the bloody red lips that were curled into a sneer looked absolutely delicious. Without his thick rubber gloves on, Medic's fingers were surprisingly dexterous, roughly tweaking here and there, skittering down to slowly massage Sniper's balls, giving the engorged head of his cock the tiniest of squeezes. Everything felt... more... than it had ever felt before. The tingling of his sickness turned into a tingling of pleasure, taking every ministration from the source to the brain with more gusto than ever before – and the entire time every cell in the man's body was screaming, “Look at me everyone! This is a bloke straddling my lap! Isn't it fuckin' wrong and awful and GREAT? The world swam as Medic's cock bobbed back and forth in his hand. When had he grabbed it? It was so hot and firm... Sniper thought he could feel himself drooling a bit. Or was he just remembering that one lad he had met while fueling up his camper at that rest stop on the highway? That boy had drooled... Why oh why oh why had he zipped up and punched him out? Why? Minutes passed. The phone rang. Sniper kept pumping the glistening cock in one hand (somewhere along the line it had been shoved roughly into his mouth repeatedly, it now shined with his saliva) but reached out with the other one to answer it. “...†“Dad...†“...†“N-Dad, I'm-a...†“...!†“I don't wanta be a bloody woman Dad, I'm just a poofta!†“...?†“Well the difference bein' one's an orientation, and the other's gettin' carved up!†Medic's eyes gleamed. “Just vhat is going on in that head of yours? You seem to be getting fairly angry... Das ist good! Get angry! I vant you to be angry vith me! Do you know vhat I am doing to you? Vhat I have already done? I am destroying your mind und body beyond repair, Sniper! Oh yes, look at vhat I am doing to you, Sniper! Look at zhis!†The scalpel was back in his hand. Or it had never left, Sniper was unsure. Now that his attention had been called to it, though, he couldn't turn his eyes away as it just barely cut into the skin of his chest and carved another delicate, swirling pattern onto the already marked and bloody canvas that was his torso. It felt like his skin had been meant to be separated that way, like Medic was just unzipping his skin along already preset lines, it was so easy. The feeling of warmth and wetness that followed was only intensified by Medic's greedy mouth falling onto the fresh wound. What a strange sensation, getting the life sucked out of you, Sniper thought. An even stranger sensation, but also much more pleasurable, was the feeling of Medic's mouth moving down towards the thus-far mostly neglected cock. As the Doctor slid his stained red tongue up the twitching side of Sniper's member and around in circles underneath the head, Sniper closed his eyes again. He was mad. Furious even. In a moment of clarity, he realized that he hated the man lavishing attention on his better half almost as much as he enjoyed having him do it. Who was he to do this? Who was he to make him want it so bad when it was so wrong? This bastard was as horrible as sweet, young Scout and comforting, gentle Engineer... perhaps even more cruel than that. He let his rage at all three of them grow. Sweet, slick, sensation made him feel sick with pleasure. The doctor was suckling his balls and roughly stroking him up and down, up and down, spewing nonsense that what thankfully undecipherable. Never had Sniper felt so horrified and fully himself. He closed his eyes and begged for Engineer to talk him down, to stop him before he fell into the depths forever. “I don't know what you want from me...†The apparition declared, and then promptly vanished. “What?! What in the hell did you just say?! Come back!†Sniper roared, sitting up in his seat, “Come back, or so help me, this is all your fault!†No answer came, and with venom in his voice he called out for Scout. When the boy arrived in the darkness, he was wearing nothing but his socks, his eyes were full of tears, his supple body was twisted and curled in an attempt to hide as much of itself as it could from Sniper's hungry eyes. “C'mon man, don't do this, man...†Scout begged, snot just starting to mingle with the tears. “I'm sorry, mate,†Sniper said, sincere but resolute, as he approached and flipped the startled boy over on his stomach. “No way, man! Please! Anything but this, Sniper, I thought you were my friend, Sniper, why are you doing this to me, why are you hurting me – JA! YESSSSSSSSSSS... TEAR me apart! Rip me to shreds! YesSSSssss! Oh, OH!†It was Medic, Medic. No, not him, not him... “Why... I.... OwowowAHHHhhh...Wh-hy-hy-hy...? ARH! HARDER, DAMN YOU! Do not slow down, dummkopf! You are barely even HURTING me anymore...†“You want me ta hurt ya?†Sniper's voice sounded alien to his own ears. So... distant. So... unhappy. It made him want to stop thinking about anything. And so he did. Sniper stopped caring if it was Scout or Medic. He just fucked. He fucked like it was the most natural thing in the world (which it was supposed to be, he guessed). He dug his thick, uncut nails into the pale broad back of medic and the tight, tanned waist of Scout until they cried out in unison. He forced his slick cock into snug warmth, over and over again, trying not to think about what it was that was keeping it slick. He felt raw, and he felt pain all over, and he felt so... gooood... For a good long while, the only sound anywhere, in his imagination or otherwise, was the sound of grunting and slapping, percussive and constantly growing in strength. When it was time to come, he did. Sniper felt no need to prolong the experience. When he came, he came on Scout's back and Medic's face. In both instances, he roughly rubbed his seed into their skin. Medic giggled and bit into the fingers that ventured too close to the mouth. Scout's sobs quieted until they couldn't be heard anymore – only felt in the shuddering of his body. When he was done, Sniper laid down, closed his eyes, apologized even though he knew it did no good, and waited to die. Medic did not make him wait long.