1 . Name: Nothing Better To Do @ 2012-06-12 17:49

I saw somebody in the requests mentioning Sniper/Medic. This isn't an exact request fill, mind you, but I figured I'd post it since it featured the pairing. Hope nobody minds that it's more silly (or stupid) than serious.

---

"Try them."

"No way! Just gimmie a hit of the Medigun!"

"Herr Scout, please. Look at yourself! You are bleeding all over the place!"

Another long spurt of blood came from the wound on Scout's side, through trembling fingers pressed against the flesh. "I'm only bleedin' all over the place 'cause you won't whip out that damn gun and heal me!"

"These pills will heal you!"

"Yeah, and what else? Make my ass fall off?" The small bottle hit the cement below with a sharp clack. Scout's open hand turned and quickly formed a rude gesture which he shook at Medic for emphasis. "Fuck you, Doc! I know what your other pills did to Soldier! I might'a spent four years in the fifth grade, but I ain't that stupid! Go find some other research monkey to test this quack shit out on." Scout left Medic with one last up-close view of his middle finger and half-hopped, half-limped away, spurting a trail of blood. "You suck as a doc, Doc! You are the worst medic ever!"

Medic picked the bottle up. Jaw clenched, he stared at it, eyes narrowed to thin slits. The bottom edge had suffered a slight nick, but other than that, no real harm done. "Little schweinhund," he muttered. "Though I am impressed... I wouldn't have expected the boy to smarten up that quickly." The bottle vanished back into his coat pocket. Thin finger went to his chin, rubbing, face scrunched in deep thought. He was running out of patients—and patience.

A sharp scream rang out from the upper level of the fort, followed by a burst of of incomprehensible Australian rage. Medic took off toward the battlements like a carnivore chasing down prey.

---

The sound of jackboots pounding up the staircase went ignored by Sniper, his hands wrapped around the throat of the enemy. "Fucking spook! Broke my mug! I'll teach ya to bust up another man's prized possession!" The large puddle of coffee and blood continued to soak into the wooden floorboards below. Two sets of feet scraped amid the mess, drawing out wet trails over the weather-worn planks.

"You have—ack!—an entire crate—uuurk!—of those tacky things—gggk!—in the back room!"

Sniper punctuated each increase of pressure along the man's neck with a violent shake of his bones. "This one... was my... favorite!" The spy's eyes fluttered and rolled; his body went limp. With the enemy in a state of semi-consciousness, Sniper saw fit to grab the spy by the lapels and drag him over to the open window. "Come back over here again, and I'll make you wish you'd never been born!" He paused long enough to take in the satisfying crash from below, and the wall came to meet his back. Sniper breathed in heavy pants, resting his full weight against the musty wood.

"Herr Sniper! You require medical assistance!"

Sniper turned to see Medic coming at him with a small bottle and a somewhat suspicious amount of good cheer. Blood poured from the deep slash across his shoulder, the wound unleashing a pain that burned with the ferocity of a thousand miniature suns. "D-Doc?" Medic never came to him without an official request for aid. Snipers were low priority—usually to get a medic, one had to be on the verge of death. A licking fire swept through his shoulder, increasing with every slight shift of his position. The gap between his back and the wall lessened quickly. "Leave it to spies to work in pairs," Sniper growled.

"Nein, nein!" Medic placed a hand on Sniper's drawn SMG and lowered it before any bullets were wasted. "I am only here to help, my friend."

Sighing, Sniper holstered his weapon. "Where's your healing gun, Doc? What's that ya got there?" His lidded eyes came to rest on Medic's face. The questionable expression Sniper found there made him briefly reconsider the forgone spy-check.

"I have been working on these for some time now: self-healing pills!" Medic placed the bottle before Sniper's eyes as if to show it off, not that it had any remarkable details: white plastic with a simple red cross on the front label. "I plan to distribute these pills to my, ah, lower priority patients. They—hopefully—will function the same as the Medigun on small to medium sized wounds." Medic twisted off the cap and grabbed Sniper's wrist. Two tiny red and white pills came tumbling out into Sniper's upturned palm.

"Hopefully?" The pills sat in the center of his sweaty palm, innocent looking enough, but they might has well have been cyanide capsules. "These aren't tested yet, then?"

"Well... no." Medic coughed once into his fist. "But I'm quite sure that—"

Sniper offered them back with a hasty shake of the head. "Sorry, Doc. I 'preciate the effort, but I think I'd rather mess with pills what I know'll work head-on, and there's some in the resupply. Now if you'll excuse me, I gotta get there b'fore I pass out. Gettin' kinda... light-headed." Still holding the pills, Sniper tried to shuffle his way past Medic.

A gloved hand came to rest on Sniper's chest, stopping him without much effort. Medic dropped the hand down and took Sniper's in his, closing it around the pills. He pushed the hand back toward Sniper. "Herr Sniper, please? How can I see if the pills work correctly if no one will take them?"

"Crikey, Doc. Don't ya have test animals around or somethin'?" Sniper's chest heaved with the weak, breathy words. He wobbled on his feet, a sudden dizziness claiming him. "Gah. Must've lost... too much... blood."

Medic relieved Sniper of the pills before they fell from his palm, pulling off one bright red glove. "All the more reason to take these, my friend. Come now, don't be stubborn! You're going to end up taking a long nap in respawn at this rate."

The strong scent of his own fresh blood caused a flash of nausea. "F-fine... just... give..." Sniper managed before he slumped back against the wall and slid down, legs buckling under his own modest weight. He let out a soft groan as the pills made their way into his mouth, the fabric of Medic's coat entangled in his weakly grasping fingers. A bit of probing pushed them deeper, toward the back of his throat. Once the fingers withdrew, a rubbery hand clasped over his mouth and tilted his head back. The pills left the faintest bittersweet taste lingering on his tongue, along with the salty taste of skin. A hard swallow rid his throat of the unpleasant little obstructions.

"There we are."

The hands left his body, but Medic's form loomed over him. Sniper sucked in a breath, his shoulder filled with invisible knives sharper than the real one that had slice him open. Sweat dripped down his temples and neck. A sensation of warmth developed in the pit of his stomach, building slowly, spreading out across his body. Soon it tugged over him like a blanket, relaxing his muscles and causing a mild drowsiness. Medic became nothing more than a blur, darkness creeping along Sniper's peripheral vision until it threatened to blind him. Fuck, why did the Doc have to test out some newfangled medical quackery on him today? He had enough problems without being used for experimentation. Next time, he'd make sure to bring a Medkit along.

All at once, a numbness hit his shoulder and wiped out the pain. He felt a tightness in his flesh—a drying sensation of sorts—and finally an intense heat, like someone stuck a hot frying pan against his skin to cauterize the wound. When he opened his eyes, he saw nothing but a simple blood stain on torn clothing, the flesh beneath fully healed. Medic came back into focus with a few blinks, greeting Sniper with a pleasant smile. "D-Doc?"

"You see? It works!" Medic pulled Sniper back to his feet and dusted him off. "Now all that is left to do is make certain that there are no unwanted side effects."

"S-side effects?" Sniper staggered for a moment. The room seemed to be spinning. A few minutes of gently massaging his temples with eyes closed stopped it. After he'd cleared his head, the reality of the situation set in. "Bloody hell, Doc. Why couldn't you just use your Medical Gun instead of jamming untested pills down my throat?"

"Thanks to you, Herr Sniper, they will be tested!" Medic gave Sniper a hearty handshake. Unconcealed gratitude flowed through the gesture. "Don't you see?"

Sniper grumbled, barely above his own breath. "Yeah, fine. Glad I could help." He pinched the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut for a long moment. When they opened, things didn't look quite as grim. Just confusing. "So now what? If I start upchuckin' or going blind, are you gonna give me compensation?"

Medic looked Sniper straight in the eye. "If there are any major problems... yes. For now, if you feel any discomfort, come to my office." He left Sniper with a reassuring pat on the back. "Good day, Herr Sniper!"

The jackboots pounded down the stairs faster than they'd arrived. Sniper questioned whether his ears had picked up the faintest hint of triumphant laughter in the distance.

"Bloody mental case." Sniper rubbed a hand over his shoulder. At least the pills had worked. Maybe Medic knew what he was doing after all, even if most of his bizarre "scientific advances in medicine" had their share of strange and sometimes deadly after effects. Fingers poked through the tear in his vest and shirt, feeling along his skin. Everything seemed normal... so far. But the things he'd heard about Soldier... A shudder went through him. Sniper didn't even want to recall that particular incident.

After a heavy sigh and several paranoid looks around the room, Sniper got back to work, taking time out to clean up the mess the spy had left on the floor of his roost. Old and rickety as it was, it felt homey like his camper, and damned if he was going to let any spies foul it up. He bid a fond farewell to the pieces of his shattered mug. Memories of better times floated through his mind as he watched them slide from the dust pan and into the waste basket. The decaying scent of an expensive Colombian roast lingered over the darkened wood. In the back room, Sniper pried off the top of the wide Mann Co. crate and pulled a new mug out from its padded surroundings. Bright red lettering spanned the mug, bringing him a deep sense of comfort despite not being his old favorite: #1 Sniper.

Sniper gazed at the mug, pausing to caress the perfectly curved handle with his thumb. "Eh. I'll get over it," he said, shrugging.

Sure enough, by the time the freshly brewed coffee poured into his once-virginal mug, he had put the death of his favorite out of mind. Sniper inhaled the pleasing aroma of cinnamon and sighed deeply, at peace with the world once again.

Before he could indulge in his first sip, the mug flew from his fingertips. It fell to the floor and exploded in a gruesome burst of porcelain bone and decaffeinated blood. Sniper let out a horrified wail, eyes darting from his empty hands to the new mess splattered across the floor. He did a double-take, only registering the form of the BLU spy when the man standing beside him began to laugh like a humanoid hyena. The wiry aluminum chair shot out from beneath him and clattered to the ground.

Sniper's hands balled into tight fists and shook with building fury. "Not even five minutes! Ya couldn't let her live for five bloody minutes! You... you... wanker!" Yowling like a wounded animal, he grabbed for the spy, determined to twist the head right off the man's shoulders.

The spy, still in hysterics from the sadistic attack to Sniper's new mug, dodged.

Sniper found himself with a face full of moth-eaten rolled carpet and a rage fueled bloodlust beyond anything he'd ever experienced. Withdrawing his kukri, he snapped his head toward the spy, lips curled into a feral snarl. If his canines had been any larger, someone might have mistaken him for being in the transformation stage between human and werewolf. Sniper lunged at the spy, unleashing an insane war scream that could have stopped Soldier dead in his tracks.

The enemy's gloating laughter cut off abruptly, replaced with a sharp gasp. The spy rolled backward onto a crate in the nick of time; the blade missed the meat of his thigh by mere inches and chopped into the crate instead. "Good lord, what is wrong with you, bushman! It's only a beverage container!" He regrouped while Sniper snarled and tried to pry his weapon out of the thick wood. "I believe you are in dire need of therapy!"

True—as much as Sniper put sentimental value on his modest few personal possessions, it was only a mug. A mass-produced specialty item, no less. That wasn't what had flung him into such an overpowering rage, but for whatever reason, he couldn't seem to pull himself out of it. The calm, composed, most often quick-witted man that had once been Sniper had vanished. In his place stood a hunched, wild-eyed, snarling madman. Streaks of red swept into Sniper's vision, adrenaline pouring into his veins like a steroid, sending him charging toward the enemy without a second thought.

Before he even knew what had happened, the kukri sank into a soft body and the warmth of spilled blood began to soak into his shirt and trousers. He only caught the tail end of the spy's scream, the pounding of his heartbeat like a drum inside his own head. The spy might have escaped if he hadn't slipped on a shard of broken mug and stumbled into the wall, where Sniper lunged and ran him through. Sniper didn't have time to be amused by the notion.

The kurki fell from his hand, and Sniper staggered to the wall. His palms fell flat against the rough wood. Aching lungs drew in breath after breath, but it didn't seem to be enough to fill them. Sniper's hear raced, his head pounded. Legs that burned with an intense pins and needles sensation struggled to carry him toward the doorway, one awkward step at a time.

"S-s-side... effects," Sniper choked out. "F-fuck!"

His knees gave out before he got far. Groaning in a mixture of pain and confusion, Sniper flopped helplessly, his body rocked by muscle spasms. The spasms let up, the discomfort subsided, and rested there for several minutes, panting. Several rapid blinks of bleary eyes brought the world back into existence. The thought of "Is it over?" died inside Sniper's mind quickly; an overwhelming urge seized his body, causing a loud groan to escape him—not of pain, but need.

"Oh, God," Sniper gasped, fighting with his belt buckle. Boards creaked under his back as he shrugged down his trousers and underwear. He spit into his palm few times, summoning up all the saliva he could manage. The slicked palm wrapped around his cock and pumped for all it was worth. "Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God..." Legs trembling, he chanted his delirious mantra, sliding the hand up and down his throbbing length. The scent of sweat, coffee, and blood seemed heavy in the air, somehow sharper to his senses. Even the calloused hand that worked him felt better than it ever had during his many previous wanks. Faster and faster it went, but he found little relief, only increasing need. "F-fuuuuuck!"

Sniper let out a moan, spreading his legs farther apart, raising his hips a few inches from the floor. Heat surged through him, his body anticipating more and more. Begging. Demanding. Trapped in an incoherent state of arousal, he continued without a second thought as to who might wander in, writhing and bucking into his hand, moaning louder and longer. His entire body burned with a slow, all-consuming carnal flame.

Whimpering, his eyes opened a fraction, enough to let him gaze up at the ceiling and catch the light filtering in through the window boards. The soft rays had turned a deep orange, a color that lead Sniper to muster all the strength he had outside of furious wanking to lift his wrist and bring the watch face around. He'd lost all track of time after being so overcome with arousal, but surely it couldn't have been—Good God, thirty-nine minutes?

"Fuckin' hell!" Sniper whined. The back of his head came to rest on wooden boards again, and he plunged into further wanking contentment.

Thirty-nine minutes? And still counting. How in the hell had he lasted that long? Maybe the better question to ask was: how in the hell had no one stumbled onto him yet? If somebody found him like this, he'd never live it down. It was seven minutes past ceasefire, thank God. Not that it would stop roaming enemies who were good at snooping without getting caught.

Struggling to maintain his professionalism, Sniper pried his hand away from his aching cock and scrambled to his knees. He had to get to Medic, whether he liked it or not. Getting there was sure to be a long, painful, and excruciatingly awkward journey with a seven-inch lead pipe between his legs. One that cried out to be fondled and stroked with nearly agonizing throbs. Sniper stuffed himself back into his pants and zipped up as carefully as he could, breathing at a rapid pace. His legs took on a sudden consistency of rubber, but he kept on and broke into a woozy jog toward Medic's office, taking every out-of-the-way route he possibly could.

---

Medic laced his fingers atop the smooth oak finish of his desk, eyes closed. A tea cup sat next to him, the contents lukewarm. The record player in the adjoining room crackled out a wistful violin solo. Soon there came a fluttering of wings. Archimedes perched on the corner of the desk, a single rose petal in his beak. The dove dropped it at the plush orange feet of a small stuffed swan leaning against the desk lamp. He cooed and bobbed his head.

"Patience, my pet. Patience." Medic's eyes remaining closed.

Archimedes twisted his head around to stare questioningly at his master, then went back to courting his new love interest of the week.

Bzzzzzzzt bzzzzzzzt bzzzzzzzt

The call button on his office speaker flashed angrily. Medic placed a fingertip to the ugly brown plastic and pushed down. "Yes?" A burst of unintelligible Australian husk poured through. "I'm sorry, Herr Sniper, but could you please repeat that?"

"Doc... p-problem... s-side effects... help! Door... unlock!"

"Oh, goodness! Come right in." Medic left his seat and wandered over to a control panel on the wall, where he stabbed at another button. The red warning light flashed twice before turning green, and the door leading down to his office unlocked. It didn't take long before the unsteady rhythm of Sniper's boots barreling down the hall could be heard. Medic stepped away from his office door just as it flew open with a bang. The man adjusted his glasses, calmly taking in his patient's distraught appearance—and rather obvious trouser bulge. "Herr Sniper?"

Sniper hung on the frame of the doorway, white-knuckled, hunched, and pigeon-toed. His eyes were lidded and glassy, pupils dilated. "D-Doc... p-p-pills..."

"Ja, ja. I see. I have some work to do, don't I?" Medic produced a notepad and pen and began scribbling away, observing Sniper with the utmost interest. "Let's see... Signs of obvious discomfort. Flushed face. Subject doubled over. Trouble walking. Labored breathing... cannot speak in full sentences... prominent erection—whoop!" Hands gripped the front of his coat tightly, jerking him forward, onto the toes of his boots. The pad and pen fell to the floor.

Sniper pulled Medic face to face, his cheeks flushed and skin slicked with sweat. Stray hairs fell across his forehead. "Doc! Raging hard-on... fifty-seven minutes... won't go away!" He brought Medic closer still, lips curling into a snarl not brought on by anger, but a desperate lust. "All your fault... F-f-fix! P-please!"

Medic ventured a light chuckle, wriggling a hand between Sniper's to pry himself from the man's grasp. "Calm yourself, Herr Sniper. I can fix this unfortunate problem quite easily." Medic's fingers curled into the material of Sniper's shirt, drawing him close in turn.

Warm breath met the flesh of Sniper's neck, Medic's lips brushing along the lobe of his ear. With another hard body pressed against his own, Sniper grunted in a mix of confusion and mind-numbing lust. "Doc?"

"All you need to relieve your current affliction... is a good. Hard. Fuck."

Sniper gulped down spit, the boldly suggestive whisper tearing through his brain. He clung to Medic, knees weakened by the bare hand brushing over his crotch. "D-Doc!"

Medic slipped an arm around Sniper's waist, pulling him closer. "Do you want me to heal you, Herr Sniper?" He continued in the lowered voice, massaging fingertips into the small of Sniper's back.

"Ffffuck, yes," Sniper said in a heavy breath, all thoughts of hesitation gone. "Yes, please, Doc! Heal me." He clutched at Medic, pushing his body against the man as if trying to climb right into his arms.

"Sniper..."

Eager lips silenced Medic. Smiling against them, Medic returned the firm kiss and wrapped his hands around Sniper's back, pulling him toward the desk. When it bumped against Medic's ass, he lingered a few seconds more, lapping up the taste of Sniper's mouth with his tongue. With the free arm, he swept everything off the top of his desk, including Miss Swan. She fell to the floor with a light plop, the tiny plastic beads inside her body shifting, producing a sound like miniature ocean waves. Archimedes fluttered down after her, feathers ruffled. The tea, free of its cracked cup, began to spread across the floor. Archimedes pulled his beloved away before it could soil her perfect artificial feathers.

Sniper's back fell against the desk with a soft thump. Medic helped lift his legs up before administering another long, forceful kiss. Hands gripping the doctor's shoulders, Sniper nipped at the roaming lips before they moved to his neck and began trailing and sucking. His body ached with urgency, responding to every touch, kiss, and feel of hot flesh against his own with an intensified pleasure. Medic's hands slipped beneath his shirt, roaming freely. They paused to pinch at a nipple. Sniper growled and buried his face in the crook of Medic's neck, inhaling the deep musk of aftershave. He writhed and twitched, thrusting his hips against Medic's. A hardness pressed against his own, further exciting him.

"D-Doc... n-need... f-fuck!" After the hoarse demand, Sniper latched onto Medic's neck like a lamprey. He bit down with a gentle but insistent pressure that would hopefully drive his request along faster.

Medic shuddered against him, letting out a soft gasp. "All right, Sniper... contain yourself." He smirked, removing his hands from Sniper's shirt, and undid Sniper's fly. Ignoring the thick cock presented to him for the moment, Medic focused on stripping off Sniper's trousers and underwear. They flew from his hand, across the room. Archimedes fluttered off before the flung trousers landed on top of him. Miss Swan wasn't so lucky. The dove perched on the nearby cabinet, flapping wings and cooing in wordless outrage.

Ignoring the dove, Medic returned his hands to Sniper's newly exposed flesh, hot and twitching with anticipation. One hand held Sniper's trembling thigh, and the other pressed two fingertips against his asshole, sliding them across it experimentally. The touch made Sniper jerk his legs once and groan out something indecipherable. His hands rested atop his chest, clutching fistfuls of dampened, blood stained shirt. The fingers began to rub with a steadier pressure, and Sniper let out a moan. Medic grunted, running lips across his teeth. He gently pressed inward and was met with some resistance despite Sniper's drugged arousal. "Tight."

Sniper shivered, releasing another needy moan while Medic's fingertip wiggled inside him, as if testing. It ventured deeper, and the muscles inside his body clamped at the sudden invasion, but a small wave of pleasure rolled through his loins. When the fingertip left, Sniper whined and bucked his hips. Fingertips trailed teasingly along his pelvis, producing a sensual tickle that sent another shiver down his spine, through his gut, and right to the tip of his cock. "Please, Doc..."

"Patience, Sniper." Medic opened the top drawer of the desk and withdrew two items, one which he set aside. He opened the tube of lubricant and slicked up his fingers thoroughly before bringing them back to Sniper's asshole. Medic ran the fingertips over it in a slow circle, pulling another moan from his patient. Gradually he moved from teasing to entry, this time working his way in much further. When the flesh around his fingers had relaxed enough, Medic withdrew and slid his middle finger back in. With it, he stroked Sniper's prostate, the gland already as sensitive as his twitching cock and aching for stimulation.

Sniper let out a gasp, a symphony of heightened sensation coursing throughout his body. His pleasure increased from the drug, Sniper found himself thrown into a world of shudders and moans. The finger inside him massaged with skill, precise in its motions, pulling uninhibited cries of ecstasy from his lips. Even with all the attention being lavished upon him, he ached for more. "D-Doc!" Begging didn't seem to help that much; Sniper bit his lip and accepted the prostate massage, continuing to squirm at Medic's magnificent touch. His cock received some attention then, Medic's free hand grasping the tip, squeezing it before stroking down the shaft with a light pressure. When both the hand and finger left him, Sniper had to suppress a full whine, and the urge to grab Medic and throw him off the desk for being such a cocktease. "Bloody hell, Doc!"

The sound of Medic's trousers being unzipped shut Sniper up. Something crackled, drawing his vague, lust-hazed curiosity. He watched Medic bring a small package to his mouth and tear it open between his teeth. His body tingling, Sniper listened to the rustle of Medic's trousers and the condom, waiting. There came the squirt of the plastic tube, and Sniper found himself enjoying the wet sound of lubricant being rubbed across Medic's covered cock. Smooth hands rubbed across his thighs, making his heart pound even faster.

"Are you ready for your medicine, Sniper?" Medic's voice held a lust thick enough to match Sniper's own.

Sniper nodded, unable to stand the maddening desire any longer. "F-fuck me, Doc... Heal me..."

Medic's eyes practically glazed over at the husky plea. He moved his hands to the back of Sniper's knees and pushed them towards his chest, sliding into Sniper's asshole with a grunt. "I'm going to heal you until you cannot think straight, Sniper," Medic said, pushing himself in deeper, inch by inch. "I don't even remember the last time I was this... intimate... with one of my patients. Thank you for testing out those pills, my friend."

A groan left Sniper, Medic's thick cock filling him, providing him with a pleasure he'd never known before. His head came to rest on the desk again, eyes closed. "Oh, Doc..."

Medic slid out just as slowly as he had entered, pausing before his length left Sniper's snug passage completely, and pushing back in. He repeated the action to give Sniper a brief taste of being filled, before resorting to shallower strokes. Medic kept his pace slow, his strokes short, and began to move inside Sniper in a steady rhythm. "Mein Gott... So tight. Wunderbar!"

Sniper's breath left him in short pants, his hips rocking against Medic's thrusts. The tightness, the heat, the hardness—everything felt amazing. It felt even better when Medic angled his shallow thrusts where he had intended them to go, and they hit their mark. He cried out, Medic's cock stroking his prostate with every thrust. "Oh, fuck... f-fuuuuck... D-Doc!" Sniper's hands roamed his thrumming body, one slipping beneath his shirt to play with a nipple, like Medic had done so teasingly. The other ventured to his length and held it somewhat loosely. Sniper began rubbing, playing, and then jerking himself with lazy motions, his main focus on enjoying the cock in his ass.

"God, yes... oh, yes..."

Somewhere in the room, doves cooed and fluttered. Sniper concentrated on the slap of his own flesh against another man's. He didn't know how long it had been since Medic started fucking him, but he began to feel the release building, and he wanted it desperately. Needed it.

"Sniper," Medic gasped, his thrusts quickening.

Sharp moans flowed from Sniper's mouth, the only thing he could manage to release for the time being. He worked himself faster while Medic lightly pounded him. Closer and closer he got, until the same burning warmth that had sealed up his stab wound seemed to overwhelm his entire body and mind. It caused his skin to prickle, his hair to stand on end. The world slipped away; he was thrown into incomprehensible bliss, with pleasure surrounding him, submersing him. When Sniper's mind returned from its brief trip to Nirvana, he found himself screaming hoarsely as he came, his legs around Medic's waist, and Medic's hands clutching the material of his vest. Medic's cock twitched inside him. The man's eyes were closed, lips parted enough for bursts of guttural German to spill from them. Such an angry sounding language, but Medic looked quite at peace as he babbled on, skin wet and glossy beneath the overhead lights. When the words died down, Medic held himself up on shaking arms and blinked open his eyes. "Doc," Sniper muttered, hands clinging to Medic's back.

"Gott." It took Medic a few minutes to register Sniper, lying beneath him, spent and sweaty and dazed. Panting heavily, he adjusted his glasses. "I think... your condition should be taken care of now."

Sniper's eyes drifted down to his cock. It had gone flaccid, the throbbing and ache no more. Only a pleasant tingling of post-orgasmic bliss remained, leaving him shuddering. Finally, he was cured. His arms and legs fell away from Medic and came to rest on the desk's cool surface. Arms wrapped around him, lifting him into a sitting position. Groaning, Sniper ran fingers through his hair.

"I'm going to need my desk back, Herr Sniper. Come... you can have a seat on the couch. Lie down if you need to."

Eyes, closed, Sniper gave a non-committal grunt and allowed himself to be helped off the desk and lead across the room.

The hell happened? Why did he feel so...

With the drug having run its course through his system, Sniper slowly came back to his full senses and opened his eyes. "Doc? Ooh, my head. I feel so blood tired... I just—" He took a few minutes to focus. It didn't take long to realize he wasn't wearing any pants. Eyes wide, Sniper looked around the room and saw Medic, caught with his own trousers open, his face sweaty, his hair mussed, and his clothes rumpled. A choked sound came from Sniper's throat. "D-D-Doc! Why the fuck am I half-naked? And in your office?" Palms pressed to his temples, Sniper's expression went from confusion to outright shock in a matter of seconds. "D-did I... did you... did we... Did we just fu—"

Medic had already grabbed a syringe. "Mein Gott! Look at that!" he cried, pointing across the room.

Sniper's head turned in the direction of Medic's finger. "W-what?" His voice rose higher with growing panic. "Oh, God, what?"

"A distraction!"

A need tip jabbed into his neck. "Doc, what're youaaaaah..." Sniper collapsed into Medic's arms.

"That was close." Medic laid the unconscious man on the couch and finished doing up his trousers, smoothing his hair and clothing back into place. Breathing a deep sigh of satisfaction, Medic brought out the bottle of pills and lifted it to his face. Grinning, he turned it this way and that in admiration, satisfaction. "Now that I know what these can do... let's see if I can turn them into something even better, eh?"

He gave a sidelong glance to Sniper, snoring so peacefully, and began to laugh.

---

Medic grimaced, staring at the blood soaking into his trouser leg. Annoying, but only a flesh wound. Still, it would only hinder him to try walking around with it while on enemy territory. He fished the white bottle from his pocket, twisted off the cap, and dumped two pills into his gloved palm. They went into his mouth, and the bottle back into his pocket. Hearing gunfire close by, he took refuge behind the closest building, dropping to his knees in some tall grass. Soldier or Heavy—or someone—would be back from respawn soon enough. For now, he saw a perfect opportunity to test out his latest weapon.

Leaving the safety of cover, Medic crept up the wooden walkway and tip-toed toward the unsuspecting enemy, so well hidden among the bushes. Or so he thought. Medic pulled out his new Needlegun, lined up his target, and waited.

"Ha, got ya, ya wanker!" Before the BLU Sniper could nock another arrow, the man behind him fired. The BLU gave a short, shrill scream, dropping the weapon and stumbling forward. He turned and glared at the red-tipped dart sticking out of the seat of his pants, then at Medic, eyes burning with predatory fury. "Rotten little battle nurse! I'll teach you to shoot me up with your medicine, you bloody quack!" The sniper pulled out his kukri and took a step toward Medic.

Medic stood his ground, chuckling softly. Unfazed by the enemy's threat, he reloaded his weapon. The gun gave a loud, sinister clack and a hiss of compressed air.

"That, my friend," he said, lifting the gun as if to show it off to his unsuspecting enemy, "was not medicine."