(>>40 I found this fic from earlier on the site. Definitely not written by me, instead written by the awesome Lolo complete with original author notes. Hits every one of my major Medic fetishes: psychological games, physical pain, domination altering with affection, etc. Hopefully it'll hit at least one of yours.) Author Notes: Personally, I am a devout little Medic fan, and I've been looking forward to making a nice Medic and You fic for quite a while. Instead, I wrote this. If I called it 'Medical Benefits', how many people would find a way to stone me to death through the internet? Do excuse my broken German. For having family that was straight up born in the Deutscheland, I'm pretty shitty at the language. "Bitte" You felt craftly. A little devious, a little sneaky. You'd made yourself a nice little deal, found an arrangement you liked, a little case of "you scratch my back and I'll scratch yours"... sometimes not so metaphorically. Oh, yes, you could feel those well-worn claw marks on your shoulders fire up as if they were new every time you got that little wink-and-a-nod, even worse if it was a not-so-subtle hint dropped in that just slightly broken English: "I zhink it's time for a check-up, it's been too long since your last..." As had gone the events of earlier in the day. The stoic expression of the base's Medic was marred only by the tiniest, knowing glint in his blue eyes, almost hidden under the dark shadows of sleepless nights and battle-worn days. It made him all the more wonderful, in your own eyes, that unattainable professionalism he so convincingly kept up on a day to day basis. Wunderbar, he might say it. Would say it, as a matter of fact. All these fleeting thoughts rushed through your swimming, excited mind as you made your way - as nonchalantly as you could manage - down the linoleum hallway that ended in the sterile whiteness of the medical room. Although it was early in the day and no one was around just yet, you didn't need to be calling attention to yourself (as well as the Medic) by sprinting to his office with bells on, even if that's what your downstairs was screaming at you to do. Reaching the closed door with the pebbled-glass window, reading the name of your German physician in neat black letters, you stopped yourself as you touched the knob you knew to be unlocked. A small smile touched the corners of your mouth as you rapped a knuckle lightly on the clean glass of the door, asking a question you damn well knew the answer to, simply for the sake of teasing. If there were a man to appreciate such a gesture, this would be the one. "Doctor? May I come in? Are you busy?" Your voice floated with a certain acoustic through the empty, echoing hallway, as did his response. "Of course not, liebling. Ze door is unlocked. Do come in." You obeyed quietly, as you had learned to do in his comandeering presence, opening the door with a muffled click and stepping through to see the origin of the voice so gruffly addled with German affluence and vocabulary. Yet another aspect of him you found irresistable. There he sat, facing away, parked stiffly at the desk that also bore his name, scribbling madly away at papers in his almost incomprehensible shorthand that most had learned to adapt to, almost like reading a new language. You closed the door behind you and stood still just a yard or so away, feet together, hands clasped behind your back, looking much like the good child that you had never been in your own adolescence. Medic remained predominantly still, not turning, writing at what seemed like a frantic speed. You cleared your throat in a cliche attempt at getting his much sought after attention, and when that didn't succeed, you spoke up. "I'm here about my, erm, appointment?..." Your voice trailed away as he stopped writing, turning his head only slightly enough for you to appreciate his grizzled, yet well-kempt (and rather lovely, in your opinion) profile. "I know. I am trying to get some work done. I vant to have some-zhing to show at the end of the day; I presume our scheduled appointment will manage to absorb most of my morning as well as my motivation." He said these things as though they were of no affliction to you, when in reality, they made your heart leap and flutter in anticipation. Medic turned away once more and quietly picked up writing, this time humming to himself a baritone tune of Ich Wollt that caused your muted adoration for him to grow even more, evidencing itself in the heat of your cheeks and the slight upturn in the corners of your mouth. You wandered a bit, straying to the examination table - affixed to the wall of the small room, a cushy 'mattress' stretched over with a clean pleather covering. Your usual seat. After a few efforts made null by your weakening knees, almost useless with excitement, you hopped up on the table, your legs heaved over the edge in another needlessly childish mannerism. Your attention shifted immediately to Medic as quickly as your heart picked up pounding when he stood up, tidying a stack of paperwork as he did so. A smile, soft and similar to your own, was playing at the man's face - an almost unfamiliar expression on his stern face. His gloved hands, agile and skilled (as you well knew), casually drifted to the tie at the throat of his buttoned collar and loosened it in a relaxed manner. His voice (calming when not ordering you to go right, RIGHT!) cut through the almost palpable, sterile silence in the cramped office as he made the short way over to where you were stationed. "Ich entschuldige mich for the wait," Medic chimed to you, slipping off his thick white coat in reveal of the still so tidy suspenders and buttoned workshirt beneath it. "I myself can be quite impatient from time to time, but I know how much more you tend to be..." He drifted off, hanging the long coat and crossing his arms in your direction. The tone of his voice was just playful enough to send that familiar shot of electricity down your spine. "Vell, I seem to be stripping already, liebling - vhy don't you follow suit?" Your grin curled into something almost obscene as you heaved an almost releived sigh. "You don't have to tell me twice, Doc," You chided back, going to work at the tricky belt of your pants. He watched contentedly, bemused with your struggling as he almost always seemed to be, holding his chin in a single gloved hand. As your pants finally surrendered and slid down your thighs and beyond your knees, a loose, folded slip of paper tumbled from your pocket with a light tap to the floor. Medic's eyebrows shot up, curious, but not overwhelmingly so. He bent his long frame - he towered over you in means of height - and snatched it up before you could even get down, all of this effortlessly. "And vhat is this, might I ask? Keeping secrets?" He chuckled at his own joke, but it seemed almost true to you, and your cheeks grew red as he unfolded the note enscribed with your own rushed handwriting. You began to embarrasedly stutter an explanation as his amused eyes shot over the text. "Well, you know, I don't know German... I mean, I don't know it well... so I wrote down some of the words you've said, and I, uh, I wanted to try to memorize them, to kind of... impress you, I guess..." Your eyes dropped to the floor as he refolded the bilingual note. Unsurprisingly, seeing as the circumstances under which these words were uttered (that is to say, panting, out of breath, or growled), a good majority of them were not the kind you'd say to your mother. Medic's tell-all eyes grew patronizing and repremansive in their gaze towards you. He made a few mocking tsk-tsk sounds as he stepped forward, closing the gap between the both of you. "Oh, really... I thought I was a good enough teacher in person," He was kidding, but the note of chaste remained. "Zhis is really below you, trying to memorize a slew of what seems to be mostly dirty words just so you could impress the likes of me," He shook his head, once more in mock reprimand. But an idea had blossomed behind that casual vociferation. "Really, now, liebling. It feels as though you are, hm, cheating on a test? Yes, I'll put it like zhat." The gloved hand that held his chin previously now held yours as you looked up at him, watery-eyed and red-faced, pantsless and defenseless although the hold he kept on your jaw felt almost intimate. "And vhat happens to cheaters? Zhey are punished, geliebte." Those pet names he so often used were already common in your limited German vocabulary - little things like darling, beloved. You doubted he truly meant the things those words implied, that he was just peppering his formal speech with something like softeners, but it was better than nothing. And what was this about being punished, now? Your feet shifted uncomfortably, hanging in the air just before his knees. Medic planted a somewhat abrupt kiss on your forehead, still gripping your chin. He had a penchant for this, kisses anywhere but your mouth, and you had come to enjoy it more than any embrace of lips. The sweetness of it all was leveled by his rough and sudden jerking of your head upward, the cold amusement dancing in his eyes as he spoke. "Come, now. Finish stripping quickly and maybe I'll let up on you - just a bit." Obedient, you peeled off the remainder of your clothing layers, piling them up almost neatly at the foot of the table, save for your pants, which still lied dejected beneath your feet. The way Medic inspected your naked body was almost, well, medical. As was expected of him. You could feel his observant eyes touching at every point and crook of your exposed flesh, noting every new bruise and scratch, as well as old ones that you could attribute to the doctor himself. The smirk that had once been on his face had long since died in favor of played stoicism. "Not in the shape I had hoped you would be in," He noted, lightly prodding and grazing several new wounds. Feeling somewhat berated, you spoke up once more. "A pretty great deal of those are from you," You noted aloud, which Medic full-on smiled at in response. "You are in no standing to be talking back, mein lieber." As he said this, his knuckle brushed harder than before on a very sore bruise. You winced visibly, holding back a startled gasp. You saw the game he was playing, nonetheless. "Point taken, doctor. What kind of punishment am I in for?" "I am not quite sure yet," He informed you with a certain lackluster inclination, eyes heavily lidded, as though bored. It almost aggrivated you to see. He was inspecting you like a show dog, as well as making you feel like one. "Why don't we start by playing a game of, oh, what is it called? 'Simon Says'. Some variation therein. Do just what I say, just how I say it, when I say 'please'. Do be careful, liebling. I will be sure to start you off easily." He contemplated his first move as you sat there, naked, afraid, and most of all, anxious for this game of his. "Now... just down from zhere, quietly, bitte." Luckily for you, that word, 'bitte', tugged at your memory - German for 'please', of course he'd say that. You complied eagerly, hopping down with a soft pat on the floor. Medic seemed pleased with this result. "Sehr gut, my dear! I almost wasn't expecting you to make the first round. Now, let's try another." He thought for a shorter period of time, looking away as he did so, then snapping back to you when he had something. "Give me a little peck on the cheek, if you will, bitte." You sighed quietly. This would be easier than you thought. And more pleasurable, you added, craning your neck upward to land a kiss on his clean-shaven cheek. Pulling your face away, it was adorned with a smile, as was his. "Wunderbar. Turn around, now, bitte." Still smiling, you did so, only the slightest bit antsy about exposing your previously-hidden rump to him, although it mattered not. "Ah, you're doing much better than I zhought you would. Could you bend over for me, maybe?" Caught up in your strange pride, you did so, leaning your weight on the table before you caught your own mistake, breath hitching suddenly in your throat. You didn't feel up to getting back up to face him as a dark chuckle emanated from behind you. "Ah, I know you are already aware of your mistake. I do enjoy your enthusiasm, but I most zertainly did not say 'bitte'." There was a lengthy pause, permiated by several telltale sounds - snapping of one rubber glove being removed, the clip of suspenders, a zipper. "It vas a noble attempt on your part, zhough." Your brain was a muddled fog of slightly illogical fear, excitement, and anticipation as you fleetingly pondered his next move. You no longer had to ponder it as he jerked your head up by your hair, now charicteristically rough. The hand holding your head at such an awkward angle was ungloved, and, quite soon, you realized where that had gone. He held your head near his face, hot breath in your ear, as he used the free hand to loop the length of the long rubber glove around your exposed neck, arched and quivering with frightened breath. Medic hissed into your ear before easing you back down. "Be a good haustier for me, won't you?" The foreign word was alien to you, but you'd soon know the meaning. One hand of his held the rubber collar tight around your neck as the other - ungloved and calloused - found a holding place just above your hip bone and dug in mercilessly. Although your face was away from his, his breathing was now audible, darkly excited and focused. His aim was dead on and his strength undeniable as he rammed into you hard enough for your vision to blossom into stars momentarily. As your sight came back to, you resisted the urge to crane your neck and peek over your shoulder. All you wanted to do at the time being was sit and enjoy this wondrous abuse of your already bruise-spackled flesh as Medic buried himself up to the hilt in you again and again. Just moments into the act, a whimper of excruciating pleasure escaped your mouth, and to your great surprise, the grip on your neck tightened exponentially and Medic's thrusts came to a grinding halt. "Ah-ah-ah, liebling," He panted from over your shoulder, bending himself to make his harsh whisper audible. You could feel the drape of his shirt and tie tickling at your back. "Only I get to make any noise here. You are being punished, ja? Zis is time out for you." You began to get lightheaded just as he let up on the grip. So many mistakes you were making that morning. In his own sweet time, Medic picked the pace back up, digging his rough hand even further into the welted flesh at your hips. The moans wanting to escape your tightly-shut mouth were now both those of pleasure and growing pain. It was, in a word... "Wunderbar," You heard yourself squeak. Medic laughed airily in response, choosing not to tighten his grip this time around. "Glad to hear you... speaking in Deutsche," He growled from above you, his free hand roving from your hip to a wrist of yours, pinning it to the cool pleather of the examination table. The pleasure far outweighed the pain at this point, and you were quite on the edge, incapable of the self control that Medic displayed in his stamina and ability to come to a sudden stop - just as he did when he noticed your writhing and panting becoming more frantic. You resisted the urge to berate him and ask why he stopped. You knew he'd answer that himself without prompt, and he did. "I don't vant zhis to be a free ride for you," Medic noted, and released a chuckle at his own small pun, "Zhis is just too easy for you, I think. You should beg for me to finish you." You laid there, dumbfounded, unable to think of a god damn thing to say in response. Your cheek stuck to the sweaty surface below your reeling head and offered no suggestion as to just what to respond with. Medic, quite unsatisfied with your silence, let your rubber restraints go as his gloved hand wandered to your erogenous zones. His slight petting, teasing and prodding, was enough to elicit a frustrated gasp and groan from you. "Really, now, I am giving you permission to speak. You know ze words. Beg me to continue fucking you, liebling." That pandering tone in his voice, coupled with the gentle encouragement of his skilled hand, was too much to refuse. The words spilled out of your desperate mouth before you knew what you were saying. "BITTE, doctor! Please! Bitte! I can't... I really..." You searched desparately for the words you needed, locked away in the tiny part of your brain that had transcribed that list of his favorite dirty language in his own language of choice. Finally, you choked it out. "Bitte ... fuck me ... Ich brauche deinen... Schwanz ... bitte!" Although the broken sentence was littered with deep breaths and rather horrid pronunciation, the Medic seemed pleased enough with it, and decided to please you in return. "Da Sie fragte freundlich..." And, as though starting completely over, began his rythym once more, slowly and suredly, this time pressing his weight entirely upon you and the table. His scent was absolutely intoxicating - the cleanly hints of aftershave and cologne, with undertones of that human scent the both of you were emenating. The heat of it all was opressing and exhilerating at the same time, and, finally, long after you'd expected to, you felt the pressure building up inside your core that signaled your final release. The doctor noted it, too, and panted more requests into your waiting ear. "Please, with me," He asked, pressuring you to wait just those few short moments before his own climax caught up with you. You did the best you could, and, eager to please him and earn his adoration the same way he had yours, managed to release your final gasp-and-shudder just as his muscles went weak for a split second, synched with the animalistic grunt he emanated as you were filled with the fruit both your labors. Even after this wonderful moment, he remained inside you, your rapidly expanding lungs heaving the weight of his chest up and down as you both caught your collective breath. After what seemed like an intimate, pleasant eternity, Medic pulled himself up and slid out of you, leaving you cold as he redressed himself, you naked but for his glove draped around your neck like a gaudy lecklace. For the first time in simulated hours, you turned your head to look at the man behind you, throwing his coat back on over his re-kempt work clothes, humming that same song from before, content and almost glowing. It made you proud and beyond happy. And to think you had been just slightly fearing his actions before now. You lazily pulled yourself up from the table to dress yourself, watching the Medic with some strange interest as you did so. Fully clothed, for a crazy split second, you considered taking the abandoned glove back to your room with you, like a college boy might take his date's panties, but reason got the better of you. Smiling, you sheepishly got up, holding the glove in your hand, to return it to its rightful owner. Medic took it in one hand and, with the other, pulled your head close to him, leaving a saccharine kiss on your temple. "Bittle, liebling."