Heavy x Medic medical kink. ______________ Heavy had always had an appreciation for science. As one of four members of the team with a degree, and the only one lacking one in the area of “hard scienceâ€, he often listened in on what Medic, Engineer, and Demoman were saying, nodding even if it wasn’t his area of expertise. He at least understood that they did what they did for the betterment of mankind, the team, and for the pursuit of knowledge. And Medic knew that he knew this; he smiled a little over the rims of his spectacles as he watched the Russian listening intently from the corner. It was at that moment that he began making plans. Medic called Heavy in, as soon as the daily battles had finished, and asked him to remove his trousers. Heavy agreed, pulling them down a bit skeptically, and the doctor nodded and asked him to follow with his underwear. Heavy did as he was asked - he was no stranger to health checks and medical exams - and Medic tried to feign disinterest as best he could as he took the tape measure from his pocket. He first noted down each measurement of the Russian’s penis - impressive in length and girth - then tested his body temperature, heart rate, and so on. And while Heavy was still perched there, half naked on the examination table, Medic had to turn his back as he asked him to masturbate until he was at full erection, so he could compare notes on the before-and-after. Ever the co-operative patient, Heavy simply shrugged. Anything for science. Heavy was given a chair to sit down on, to make it easier. Medic wasn’t that cruel, to force a man to pleasure himself on that cold table, but he couldn’t help but smirk a little as he… observed. After all, it wasn’t perverse if you took notes. And right now he was noting every detail in the Russian’s face; every gathering bead of sweat, every bite of his lip. Heavy’s hands moved slowly and deliberately, running his thumb and forefinger down the length of his shaft, tugging gently and carefully running his calloused thumb across the tip. But research demanded professionalism. So he quickly proceeded with the rest of the measurements, noting the change in size and curvature, as well as elevated body heat… but even with his gloves on, he couldn’t resist stroking his fingertips through that forest of chest hair as he took Heavy’s heart rate. “Vhat happens now?†Medic adjusted his glasses and answered nonchalantly; he would need to do this several more times over the next few weeks, at least until the he could formulate a consistency chart. Heavy nodded as the doctor excused him to his room. But when he left, trying to be as casual as he could, he found himself sneaking off to his bed to finish the job. Thoughts of the doctor kept floating through his mind, and somehow, it was the memory of that small smirk that Medic had given - running his tongue over his teeth just a little - that brought him to his climax. I wonder why you, of all people, Doktor, he thought, giving himself little time to bask in the afterglow, and grabbing a rag from the box beneath his bed to wipe his hand. Heavy didn’t think much more of it. Or at least that was the case until he lay in bed later that night, unable to sleep, and his mind persistently drifted back there. They were good friends, him and his Doktor. That was what his mother had said about his father, too. “He was my best friend. We argued sometimes, but we always forgave each other. We always laughed together, read books together, cooked together…I miss him every day.†It actually sounded a lot like him and his Doktor, the more he thought about it. But Medic was simply conducting a study; part of his ongoing research into the wonders of the human body. It might seem personal, but it really wasn’t. At least, that’s what he told himself well into the next day, until, after measuring the circumference and length of Heavy’s erection, Medic proceeded to stand very close behind him, leering a little behind his glasses. And the doctor got a little more bold with each new ‘examination;’ sometimes it was simply a matter of tone, growling a question at Heavy to see how he would react, and finding out just how close he was to ejaculation. Other times he’d take a more physical approach - just a subtle thing, running his fingertips along the musculature of Heavy’s arm, tracing the outline of his bicep. He’d asked once, teasingly, if his patient’s arm was getting tired and Heavy had gasped a little. Never had his face felt so flushed, so warm. And Medic had dismissed him faster than ever, finding himself needing to take care of a little ‘business’ of his own, his clipboard becoming a more literal dividing line between the clinical necessity of scientific procedure and his own desires as he concealed a raging erection. And so things continued; Medic would call Heavy in, and he would observe, and take notes. Sometimes he’d ask him to pull up his shirt to expose his belly, or take his shirt off entirely. Sometimes he’d have a little trouble getting a clear idea of his exact heart rate, and the doctor would put the stethoscope to his chest, commenting on how he shivered at its icy touch. It was getting harder and harder to concentrate, to remember that what he was doing was in the name of progress. And Heavy found himself getting increasingly sleepless at night and restless during the day. The memories of the tests and of his Doktor’s touch were incessant, driving him to spill his seed in his bed before he slept, in the showers when he awoke… even the occasional lull in the pace of the battlefield had him seeking out a quiet corner to hurriedly stroke himself to orgasm. And as time went on, he could find no relief. Even just hearing Medic chuckling darkly as they slaughtered their enemies was enough for a Pavlovian reaction, making his cock twitch and throb needily. It was becoming a dangerous distraction. And after several weeks of tests and teasing and multiple trips through respawn, he was finally ready to tell that to Medic. Or he was, until he was asked to report to medbay after the battle, for the final part of the study and ‘compensation’ for his troubles… When the time came, it had already been a good day. The team had won a very tight, hotly-contested battle, and Heavy was riding high on his victory. He strolled into the Medbay at precisely 4:03 PM, just as requested, the dirt and sweat of a hard day’s work still clinging to him, and as usual, he found Medic grinning down his nose at him through his glasses. There was something peeking out from Medic’s vest pocket, which he pulled out and dangled like a treat for a dog as Heavy approached. It was a box of condoms. “So I see you ah you ready for your ‘compensation’… let us see if our weeks of research have paid off, hm?†He threw it to Heavy, who managed to catch it in his shock, but they exchanged a mutual, silent look. Heavy was more than a little taken aback, and Medic frowned worriedly. “…Heavy?†“Da, Doktor?†he answered, as co-operatively as ever, but Medic found himself pausing before he continued. “I… that is to say, my research has indicated… I calculated our mutual chemistry, mutual interests, our ability to function as a team in battle. Everyzhing adds up. I determined our physical compatibility, your size, your strength and endurance, zhe length of your schwanz versus my own… depth, shall we say… and ze numbers and figures correspond in such a vay zhat…†Medic sat down, running his fingers through his hair and sighing. Now he was saying it out loud, this was a lot more difficult than he’d imagined. “Heavy. You are alvays so willing, so eager to please, from vhen you vash my back in the shower to zhe times ve spent together on furlough. I supposed zhe next logical step for us vould be sex. Everyzhing would be so according to plan. But in my pursuit of statistics, I failed to acknowledge zhis would be your first time with a man… and zhat, in itself, depends on if zhe interest is mutual.†Heavy’s mouth felt dry. He wasn’t sure what to say or how to say it, but seeing Medic like this… he looked less like the hungry, predatory animal he’d seen in his masturbatory fantasies, and more like a kicked puppy. But taking a deep breath, he placed his hand firmly on Medic’s shoulder and smiled reassuringly. “Da. If interest is same, explains why I have dreams of you. All week, in day and in night. I vill do dis; for science, for Doktor, and for me.†Medic had to replace his glasses as they slid down his nose. “You… really do not care about vhat others will think? If they know you have been with a man-†“Doktor.†Heavy held up his hand. “Doktor. In my country, I am smart, brave, strong… maybe not so much handsome. But in thees country, I am feared. No man would ask question. No man would judge. No man would dare.†Medic scoffed a little. “You? Not handsome? Ach, any man or voman would be so lucky, vith zhat strong jaw, broad shoulders, zhat body hair and zhose muscles-!†he chuckled. “Do forgive me… it is impossible to measure such things empirically… but even factoring in my cognitive bias, you ah zhe perfect specimen.†Heavy was as modest as ever. Although his English was limited - learned mainly from books, comics, and a few basic lessons from RED - he understood the words ‘perfect specimen’, and that alone was enough to make him look at his feet shyly. “Vell, Heavy maybe have body like Superman, but only you look good in suit, like Clark Kent…†“Please.†Medic was quick to silence him, and he was looking at his watch. “Ve are already running behind schedule. I calculated ze exact window between ze post-battle high and ze post-battle exhaustion, and factoring in temperature and humidity, I vould say ze perfect time for you to fuck mein arsch until I start tomorrow’s battle feeling sore is… in about 2 minutes, 36 seconds.†“Then let us begin.†Heavy closed the door, and suddenly Medic was upon him, kissing him like he’d anticipated the moment for years. He’d dropped his trousers with lightning speed and was grinding his hardening cock against Heavy’s hip, his shaking hands unclasping the Russian’s belt, pulling it away, and dropping his pants in a motion so swift, it seemed those countless times he’d practised each maneuver were paying off… but then came something Medic’s numbers and rehearsals hadn’t anticipated. Heavy’s hand gently cradled his head and he kissed him back, softly, deliberately, his other hand cupping the doctor’s bottom and giving a playful squeeze. It was enough to send shivers through Medic’s body, but he had to break the kiss, or else lose precious seconds to loosen his tie… Heavy was as patient with him as ever; as much as he found he loved the newness of it all, the taste and the warmth of his doktor’s mouth, the time they’d spent in battle together meant he’d learned to anticipate Medic’s needs through body language alone. He released him from the kiss, settling instead for gently caressing and squeezing his ass, the muscles firmed and shaped from carrying that heavy Medipack. He closed his eyes as he took in Medic’s scent, recognisable even with the lingering blood and sweat of the battlefield, leaving him just enough room to throw away his tie and open his shirt. “Do you know… how I did… my own research…?†Medic asked, panting a little, pulling up Heavy’s shirt to expose his belly. “Tell me.†Heavy took the red t-shirt off by himself; compared to all the buttons and fastenings on Medic’s uniform, it was a simple thing. Just a short delay before he’d be able to assist him again. But even just watching the doctor undress, he was already on his way to full arousal, and he found every second he wasn’t touching Medic or kissing Medic was excruciating… “Vell, I vanted to make sure ze emotional attraction vas as true as I anticipated…†That pause should have been his cue to finish removing his shirt, but even with the schedule laid out clearly in his mind, he found himself unable to resist a little improvisation. Without looking down, his hand found Heavy’s erect cock right away, and he ran his thumb teasingly over the tip just as the Russian had, leering into those blue eyes as the Russian’s face contorted in pleasure. “…Do you remember zhat photograph taken inside your home, of you sleeping… ?†Medic grinned wickedly as he stroked again, eliciting another, more desperate moan from Heavy’s throat and a much more aggressive squeeze from his powerful hands. The silky, red cloth of his boxer shorts grew damp under that circling thumb, each movement teasing out drops of precome. “Ohhhh… please, Doktor… do not remind me…†The photograph was an unwelcome subject for Heavy; he still considered it a personal failure that someone had managed to sneak into his own house, completely undetected, and come away with such intimate photos. Especially when it suddenly went missing. But then Medic explained how he’d stolen it, and Heavy felt his shame replaced with an odd sense of pride. Medic had admired his serenity in that photograph; it was a side of him that others rarely saw, and he’d felt so privileged to bear witness to how gentle the team’s giant could be. “It vas almost like a pin-up, if you vill… aaahh…†Medic gasped a little; Heavy had slipped one hand down the back of his underwear just a few seconds earlier, but now one of those thick fingers was unexpectedly probing his entrance, backing off worriedly as his buttocks clenched. “No, don’t shtop…†Heavy obliged. There was still much he had to learn about pleasuring another man, but Medic spoke to him through body language, moving his hips to tease himself with those fingers. “Like- like a pin-up, I used that photograph… I lay on the operating table, pleasuring myself, thinking of taking zhose adorable skull-and-crossbone pyjamas off of you…†Medic was hardly paying attention to the ticking clock any more. With his cheek tickled by the Russian’s chest hair and his hands caressing that soft belly, he was no longer a slave to time and timing but to Heavy’s amazing hands. The way that that single finger made him moan even as it entered him just a little, hesitant and shaking slightly, his lover showing his inexperience… he wanted so badly to lube himself up, push himself onto those fingers, use Heavy’s hand like a toy and make him finger-fuck him into a sloppy, completely selfish orgasm. But he’d planned this. He’d practiced this. This wasn’t just for him, this was for them both. For their mutual pleasure. And it had to be perfect. “Lieber, I apologise, but ve are behind schedule… I vill fetch zhe surgical lubricant…†“Ees not behind. I still have time for you.†Heavy kissed him again, pulling Medic’s hips towards his, feeling the heat of his cock against his own. He wrapped his hand around both, through their underwear; like everything, it was new, and excited him in all the right ways. And elicited just as many protests about their schedule as it did sounds of pleasure from the doctor… it was cruel, but after Medic had teased him so much in their previous ‘examinations’, he just had to have a little payback before he carried him to the table as instructed. Medic squirmed as Heavy put him down. Despite the Russian’s concerns, he didn’t mind the cold; in fact, it excited him, reminding him of his illicit evenings with that photograph. But Heavy was determined to take his time in getting the lubricant, just so he could admire the doctor as he was, naked and starkly outlined against the table. Thanks to the passive effects of the Medipack, his skin was free of scars, pale and pristine as fresh snow… and much like a Siberian snowfall, the man was deadly to those that underestimated his power. It was what Heavy had loved about him even before it came to this. Medic was all at once follower and leader, forceful and malleable. He was putty in his hands one moment, gasping, face flushing as Heavy ran his fingers up his thigh and pinched the tender skin. But mere seconds later he was growling, demanding, ordering him around, his tone only softening again as he reassured Heavy that he wasn’t hurting him. “Zhat’s it… slowly…†Medic arched his back slightly as the second finger entered him, stretching him, lubricating him just as he’d said. Thoughts of spontaneity pestered him again, thoughts of having Heavy take him right then and there, bareback and rough on the operating table. Patience. “Now just one last zhing…†Medic’s forelock was plastered to his forehead with sweat as he sat up, unrolling a condom onto Heavy’s waiting cock. He planted a brief kiss on the tip before he applied more lubricant, resisting the urge to do more, and carefully slipped over the specially designed cock ring. Delaying or denying pleasure wasn’t its purpose; it was soft enough to allow for full ejaculation and orgasm. Instead, it had a certain special feature, specifically for his research. He could only thank God for their Engineer being both open-minded and not one to ask too many questions. “A thrust counter. To gather data for next time.†“Next time? Data?†Heavy smirked. “Doktor ees always planning, always thinking, always numbers… why not do what heart says?†“Heavy, schatz, ze statistics indicate zhat zhe best time for intercourse is between zhe hours of-†“Shh.†Heavy put a finger to his doctor’s lips, and removing his own underwear, he picked him up again, sitting down on the chair that he’d used during Medic’s ‘experimental’ sessions. “Ees better for both of us.†Medic sighed in exasperation; “Lieber, I have calculated zhat ze best position for us is from behi…ah-!†He was cut off mid-sentence by his own gasp as he felt Heavy enter him. Slowly. Gently. Less to do with hurting him and more to do with the barely-contained ecstasy Medic could see in his flushed face, his eyes rolling in his head, beads of sweat gathering on his forehead and forming droplets on his nose. It was a sight he’d never forget, and he would have missed it, if Heavy had fucked him from behind as planned… “Ees tight… ees good…†Heavy could barely speak at all, never mind speak in English. He’d been careful and deliberate with his fingers, following his doktor’s instructions to the very letter, waiting for that hot tightness to ‘give’ so he could prepare him, but nothing could prepare Heavy himself for this. Medic’s arms and thighs were wrapped around him. His face was buried in his neck. Every gasp, every pant, every phrase uttered in German as Medic pushed himself down on Heavy’s cock and took it up to the hilt, it was almost too much. Medic took his chance to snatch control back again. Even taking the new position into account, he’d ‘practiced’ enough that he could angle himself to the exact degree, letting Heavy’s cock just graze his prostate. He didn’t want to come too soon. He’d seen how Heavy pleasured himself. Slow strokes at first, slow movements, each of Medic’s downward motions getting a satisfying tick from the counter. One, two, three, four… Heavy grabbed his hips and pulled him down suddenly, filling him completely. Five. Their lips met mid-gasp and Heavy’s cock thrust deep into him again. Six. Medic’s teeth found Heavy’s ear and he lost count, bouncing in the man’s lap as his breathing, his heart, everything seemed to synchronise with the sound of precious data. The doctor’s mind was a mess, trying to re-calculate angles and remember his maps of erogenous zones, that obsessive, introverted part of him clinging tenaciously to the perfect, scripted sex of his dreams. Heavy’s mind was awash too, but with sensation pouring in, a seemingly endless torrent. He’d never made love to a man before. He’d never looked at those perfect, sculpted buttocks and thought about how they’d feel wrapped around his cock. He’d never thought the smell of the battlefield and the medbay could be so intoxicating. He’d never imagined those deep moans coming from his doktor’s throat, or seen that mouth planting kisses on his neck and chest, even in his dirty daydreams. Medic’s cock was in just the right place to rub against the underside of Heavy’s belly. And with one hand still supporting that amazing ass, Heavy’s other hand moved to wrap around the Medic’s erection. It felt different in his hand; shorter, slightly slimmer, with more of a curve back towards those strong, lean abdominal muscles. But they weren’t so different as it seemed… the same movements of palm and fingers brought his doktor as much pleasure as they did himself. And with his face flushed, his glasses askew, and piercing blue eyes looking hungrily into Heavy’s, Medic bucked into his lover’s hand. He could feel Heavy’s moans through his chest as he planted both hands in that luxuriant hair, arching up against the cock inside him, not so much caressing his prostate but hitting it hard, again and again. It was enough to make Heavy come undone, watching Medic take charge, watching that snow-white skin drip with sweat and flush with blood as he fucked himself vigorously. Those moans, those growls, those grasping fingers and scraping teeth. He wanted to describe everything in poetic simile and metaphor, he wanted to tell his Doktor, his lover, how amazing, how sexy he looked right now. But words could only fail him as that hot tightness grew even tighter, and he was so close… “Come for me, lieber… come for me…†leaning into Heavy’s chest, Medic’s voice was barely a whisper, but it was enough to push him over the edge. With one last, quivering thrust of his hips and one last click of the counter, he came with a roar. And that sound alone was enough for Medic to reach his own release, spilling his own seed onto Heavy’s belly. Heavy pulled out. Medic grabbed some disposable towels and cleaned up. And with his slightly germophobic tendencies satisfied, he permitted himself just a few minutes to enjoy Heavy’s company. Resting his head on the other man’s chest, he found himself mentally taking note of his heart rate, and adding a mental footnote on how it seemed even faster than when he’d pleasured himself alone… but then a large hand reached up and gently petted his head. Medic sighed, closing his eyes and letting his body go limp. He wasn’t usually so romantic, but basking in the afterglow together seemed to bring them even closer. Each catching their breath, in a moment of silent gratitude… Heavy, meanwhile, had retrieved the cock ring and was looking at the thrust counter with a raised eyebrow. “Hm. Not bad. Next time we break endurance record, da?†“No, next time ve achieve orgasm even qvicker, even stronger, even more mutually pleasurable…†Medic smiled, his fingers curling. “After all, it is how ve do things in Germany; efficiently.â€
Bear-Knuckle Boxers Pairings: Heavy x Medic, Heavy x Classic Heavy, implied Classic Heavy x Medic Warnings: Non-con, albeit portrayed more in a dramatic manner instead of a fetishistic one, a bit of voyeurism, violence (sexual and regular violence), some fluff at the end ______________ “Heard your daddy died, little boy. You lookin’ for another one?†Classic sneered, tracing the line of Misha’s jawline with an ominous smile. His hands snaked down towards that thick, muscular neck, the broad chest, the padded belly over a muscular core. God, he wanted to rip that flak vest off with his fucking teeth. Misha winced, his shoulders tensing, eyebrows furrowed. He was starting to sweat now, but he tried to remain steadfast. He refused to let himself be intimidated– he’d lived through Hell once before. This should be nothing. Classic knew it’d be a close fight if he used guns or fists. But he’d read up on Misha’s dossier, and knew every button to push, every little tiny insignificant thing that riled him up. And man, wouldn’t it be great to reduce the largest man he knew to a submissive, powerless little thing? Pair of panties with a great big cock straining against them, so turned on but so ashamed of how much he loved his predecessor spanking his ass, crying because he found the one pair of handcuffs he couldn’t break. Inch by inch, Classic cornered Misha against the wall, hissing as he ran his hand up against the Russian’s cock. “You big baby.†“How DARE you,†Misha roared. He backed away from the older man’s greedy hands, throwing his entire weight into this one defensive punch. A punch Classic casually intercepted, without breaking a sweat. He even feigned a yawn before grabbing Misha’s collar and casually throwing him up against the wall. Misha groaned as his back and skull met stone, cracking with a sickening thud. Classic sneered, placing a boot firmly against Misha’s chest. “Nowhere to run, little boy. My men’re pickin’ off your puny squad like nothing out there. Your bosses, your sister, your team? All dead. Not even a fair fight. Cept your little Nazi slut of an ex. Only keep that crazy fucker around because he’s good in bed. Maybe we’ll keep you around too, if you play your cards right.†He dug his heel into Misha’s chest. “Be a good little boy for Daddy, and I’ll let you live.†Heavy was in a state of shock. There was still a chance they hadn’t gotten to Mama, Yana, and Bronislava yet. They were travelling somewhere else, away from this wretched conflict, thank God. But without his friends, his guns, with his former boyfriend sitting cozily in the lap of this smug elderly bastard, what choice did he have? Misha nodded, albeit very, very begrudgingly, and Classic grinned. Misha held his breath as Classic crouched down, pressing sweaty palms against the man’s flak jacket. He hefted it over Misha’s forearms, tossing it aside. The t-shirt came next, with Classic snickering as he grabbed Misha’s love handles. His own vest came next, with Classic grabbing Misha’s hand and pressing it against his own abdominals– paunchy, perhaps, but with a gut nowhere the size of Misha’s. The Russian winced resentfully. He needed that bulk for weightlifting, dammit. It came in handy. Besides, Medic had thought they were sexy. Oh, Medic. It was your decision to break up with him, he reminded himself. You expected to never see him again. Did you think he wouldn’t have moved on? Classic withdrew his knife from his back pocket, cutting Misha’s belt and trousers down the middle, rendering them unable to be reworn. The blade came dangerously close to Misha’s genitals, causing him to squirm even more. This was getting to be way too much. With one hand on his own belt, Classic yanked down his boxers and ran his finger over his cock. Misha opened his mouth to plead, but Classic clamped his hand over Misha’s mouth, cupping his chin and pulling in for a kiss. The feeling of the older man’s jaw against his, the shark-like canines digging into his lip, an unfamiliar tongue wriggling its way into Misha’s mouth, it was all way too much. Overcome with stress and grief, Misha’s defenses came down completely, and he started to cry. He hadn’t cried since the night Papa died, but his eyes had become so blurry that he could no longer even see what was going on. MEANWHILE, SOMEWHERE ELSE ON THE SUBMARINE: Medic was in an unusually giddy mood. He’d just met with his team’s Sniper, who was making an incredible recovery, despite several shots to the abdomen, and was readying his Medigun for the first time in six months. His “old†team (well, his team, his boss, his assistant boss, and two women he didn’t recognize) simply had to stall for long enough, and then he’d reveal himself as a double-agent to Gray’s mercs, right as Project Uterus kicked in. What fun it would be! But Medic was feeling a bit selfish, and decided to switch the control panels until he caught sight of a certain someone he’d been missing for half a year already. He blew on his tea, casually taking a sip as he watched. Medic spat boiling-hot tea onto the console, both in horror at how hot it was, and what the hell exactly he was watching on the screen. Yes, he’d had sex with Classic Heavy a couple of times. He’d been lonely after Misha left, with the understanding that he’d never see his favorite test subject again. Besides, Classic had promised him the coordinates for a yet-untapped Australium cache. But upon the realization that the cache did not actually exist, and the fact that Classic lacked the care and affection Misha had exuded these last few years, Medic had resigned himself to merely pretending not to hate his “new†leader. And he’d been right to do so, because Classic had apparently raided Medic’s secret sex stash without his permission. Misha was clad in nothing but a Heavy-sized bra and pair of frilly pink panties, a set Medic had reluctantly chosen not to discard after the breakup. His hands were bound behind his back with a pair of fluffy novelty handcuffs that matched the lingerie, with a set of actual historical chains, as a touch of overkill. Misha was visibly shuddering as Classic forced his erection down the Russian’s throat, spanking him for his insolence. He was sneering harder, harder, put some effort into it, and Medic was frozen in his chair, not sure whether to run to the interrogation room in anger, or to shamefully, secretly jerk off. He’d slept with someone else after the breakup, so why did seeing his beloved Misha submit to someone else stir such a sense of jealousy and rage in him? Was that not being hypocritical? Misha’s tongue lapped obediently against Classic’s cock, his mouth completely dry, running a tongue over the veiny underside, leaving dry kisses against the spongy head until it shuddered, clenching his eyes shut as Classic roared with pleasure and approval, deliberately aiming his ejaculate all over the younger man’s face. The salty fluid dripped down his bald scalp, across his cheekbones and into his mouth as Classic disrobed completely, pants around his ankles, grimacing as he forced himself into Misha’s ass. Classic let out a low, insidious chuckle, moving his hips rhythmically, slamming them full-force into the younger man’s pelvis. Medic grimaced. Misha had always been adamantly in favor of condoms and lubricant, and neither seemed to be present here. A panicked, perhaps subconscious “Doktor!†escaped Misha’s dry, cracked lips, and the tea mug immediately fell to the floor, shattering on impact. Medic set off, bonesaw in hand, naught but rage behind his spectacles. Medic utilized the stealthy heel-toe step he’d learned while sneaking into Nazi bases when he was younger, and quietly punched in the code he’d learned from Gray’s team. It wasn’t much more complicated than his own team’s. He held his breath as he approached Classic from behind, blade in hand. He was, thankfully, still oblivious to the looming threat, and waited until Classic threw his head back, basking in the glow of an orgasm, only to feel a sudden, stabbing pain. Shit, was that blood? He adjusted his goggles, shakily standing up to face Medic. “You-you son of a bitch.†“You know, an exploding implanted uterus vould have been more fun, but zhat plan came before you STEALING MY BOYFRIEND–†“God, y-you sound like a fucking teenager, Doc.†Classic wheezed. “What, what makes you think I even asked him? You realize how much money is on that man’s head? Had to teach him some lessons, c’mon.†He paused. “Besides, you fucked me, too. It’s only fair.†Medic grimaced, holding the blade to Classic’s throat. “Misha, do you like this man? How has he treated you?†“I do not know him. He says his men have killed the rest of our team, my sister, Mr. Hale, brave little Pauling, everyone. He says you love him now. He mocks the night of my father’s death as–†He took a deep breath at the realization of what had happened. “I said yes to sex. I thought it would save us. But I did not enjoy this.†Medic glowered intently at Classic, his body growing faint at the loss of blood. “I’ve heard all I need to hear. Auf wiedersehen, schweinhund.†Classic’s head came clean off, with very little effort. The doctor kicked the headless corpse aside, kneeling at Misha’s side. His throat had felt too dry to cry, but leaning into Medic’s chest like this, the floodgates opened again. The moment Medic unchained his former, and now current lover, Misha squeezed him like he intended to never let go.
This was amazing. Both of them. Everything is described beautifully and lively. The character personalities are just right and I never thought "This is something the real characters would never do". Well done. I do hope to read more Heavy/Medic from you in the future.