1 . Name: Ze Doktor @ 2011-06-16 21:31

Ze Doktor attempts to write kinky shit!

This one is for TeratoMarty. May contain too much telling instead of showing at the start, sorry. Also my descriptions are probably severely lacking, so I hope your imaginations are up to filling out the fine detail.


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TAINTED LOVE

It was a chance meeting during a fight that started it all. Heavy took a point, and no small amount of damage, and Medic caught up with him as he was beating the enemy Demoman to death. They were alone, for a few minutes, while the rest of the team caught up with them and the opposing force regrouped.

Blood dripping from his fists and anger surging in his veins, Heavy was ready to attack Medic as well in his battle lust. The doctor was having none of it, however. He held his Ubersaw at the Russian's neck and snarled orders into his face, but when Heavy gripped his waist and bared his teeth, lust of a very different kind seeped through his mind. So much blood...

He loved blood. Medic let the point of the saw scratch Heavy's cheek, drawing a crimson line that dripped down to his jaw. Such a brilliant, vibrant color, like a sunset in the autumn. Heavy's hands dug in hard enough to bruise as he licked it up slowly, and left a suckling kiss on the cut itself.

Heavy threw him against the wall hard enough to crack a rib, crushed him there with his powerful body, and they might have gone further if Medic had not stopped him again with the saw against his neck. “Business before pleasure,” he said softly, “Ve have people to kill, ja?”

That was good enough. His Russian responded with an evil grin, and they returned to the hunt.


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For all their joking around amongst themselves, the team knew well that making wisecracks about Heavy and Medic was a very, very bad idea. There was an unspoken rule in the base: do not refer to their relationship in any way, and you'll probably wake up in the morning with all your limbs attached and all your internal organs on the inside.

And never, ever go by the infirmary after six o' clock in the evening.

They preferred it like that. No stupid comments, and no interruptions. Soldier found out the hard way, when he dared to display his obvious homophobia and insulted Heavy at dinner; they had to listen to his screaming for hours, and when he respawned, he wouldn't talk. At all. He still flinched any time Medic turned the Medigun on him in battle, days later.

The other team swiftly learned that it was not enough to kill one of them. They had to find out the hard way too, when their Spy got a lucky backstab and killed Heavy. Medic seemed to lose his mind, bludgeoning the Spy to death with his Medigun and carving up the Scout and the Engineer before the Sniper put him down. Having two psychopaths on the field was bad enough; having one psychopath who had gone berserk and didn't appear to feel pain was worse.

It was better, really. They needed to be together. One would not fight without the other, not anymore. When Heavy went on a particularly brutal rampage after losing Medic, the doctor refused to move from Respawn until his Russian was killed and rejoined him there. It was almost sweet, although anyone who even mentioned the word could expect, at best, to die at Heavy's hands. Medic, of course, would torture them first.

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The Medigun and the Respawn technology were godsends. Medic had sometimes pondered how useful they could be, but he had never really appreciated them until he and Heavy began to explore some of their more twisted desires. Then his imagination had thrown up any number of perverted possibilities, and Heavy had taken to them with enthusiasm, and now they were engaged in something of a game of one-upmanship. Medic was having so much fun that he honestly couldn't remember who was winning.

Heavy sometimes thought about how lucky he was to have found someone like Medic, someone who not only tolerated his inclinations but actively embraced them too. He had resigned himself to a life of restraint and frustration with whatever woman would have him, working out his more primal urges on the battlefield. It was the most unlikely place to discover a kindred soul, but somehow he had done it. Medic's crooked smile, the one that indicated he had thought of something interesting for them to do, just lit up his whole world.

It was love, of a sort, though they never said the words. After their first time together, when they were lying in the bloody sheets and both covered in bruises and bites, Medic had looked up at Heavy and sighed in such utter contentment that there could be no doubt as to how he felt. They were made for each other.


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Tonight, it was Medic's turn to be on top. That usually meant bondage, and sometimes a blindfold. Heavy didn't care. It was always good, if usually horrifying to the outside observer. They locked themselves into the infirmary as soon as the dinner was finished, and put blinds over the round windows in the double doors.

Medic busied himself with a tray on his workbench, laying out alcohol, cotton swabs, a tube of lube, a syringe and a vial of white liquid. Heavy watched, growing hard just looking at the long, thin, steel needle. The last time the doctor had experimented with drugs, the sex had been so violent that they had both woken up in Respawn. He grabbed Medic around the waist, pressed his groin into his ass, and gripped the heat building between his lover's legs.

“I want now,” he whispered hoarsely.

Medic twisted in his arms, the Ubersaw appearing from nowhere and resting threateningly on Heavy's shoulder. “You get vhen I say you do,” he snapped, but there was a hint of a vicious smile there somewhere.

Heavy shoved him roughly up onto the bench, nearly knocking the tray onto the floor. The saw cut through his T-shirt and into his skin, but the pain only made the desire more acute. “Now,” he repeated, his voice making it clear that this was not a request.

Medic growled under his breath, and dropped the weapon. He had a crazed gleam in his eye as he tore Heavy's shirt open and fastened onto the wound with his mouth, catching the blood with his tongue and smearing it across his face. Heavy grabbed a handful of his hair and wrenched his head back up; Medic licked at the red stains on his lips and teeth, looking like a vampire with bad table manners. He smiled at him, his nails digging into the back of Heavy's neck.

“Strip, and get on ze table. Zhen I give you zis.”

Heavy immediately complied, leaving Medic to hop off the bench and retrieve his Ubersaw. He discarded his clothes on the way to the sturdy examination table, and climbed up onto it naked. Medic brought the tray and the saw, then strapped Heavy's arms and legs into padded cuffs attached to each side. The Medigun was already tied onto a chair, and he positioned it so that he could reach over and push the handle down easily. He stripped off his own clothes, and then pulled his thick rubber gloves back on.

“Tonight, ve are going to do a little surgery,” he said, in a lascivious way that made the Russian's erection twitch. “Zis vill take ze edge off ze pain, and make everyzing feel more... pleasant.”

He drew the white liquid into the syringe. Heavy watched him dab his elbow delicately with the alcohol, and tap the hypodermic gently to release any air bubbles. He held it up for a moment, admiring the glistening metal as he squeezed a few drops out. “Is ze patient ready?” he asked in an offhand way.

Heavy sneered. “We going to play all night like leetle kiddies, or going to fuck like men?”

Medic grinned evilly, the blood still visible on his teeth. He suddenly scrambled up onto the table, straddling Heavy's body and holding up the syringe like a dagger. “You vill scream before I am done vis you!” he hissed, and stabbed the needle into his captive's chest.

Heavy roared, but it was cut off by Medic's mouth. He bit into his lip while he injected the drug directly into his heart, ignoring how much Heavy thrashed against the bonds. Blood spilled into their mouths, bitter and metallic. Medic ripped out the needle as he sat up again, and threw it across the room.

The pain was sharp and intense, but the drug acted quickly. Heavy snarled at the weight on his chest and the restraints that were keeping him down, losing himself to his most base urges. That smaller body above him – it was his to use and to be used by in return, and he wanted anything but inactivity.

Medic slid off him and knelt on the table between his legs. He leaned forward, letting their erections touch for a few moments. Heavy bucked under the sensation, grimacing and trying to pull him closer with his knees. Medic only watched him, letting his hands drift up over his chest and crooning like some enormous cat. He licked the side of Heavy's abdomen, leaving slick, bloody trails on his skin.

He then reached over and picked up the Ubersaw and the lube. Medic sat up for a moment, and sliced the tube open to let the gooey stuff dribble over the fingers of one hand. It followed the same trajectory as the syringe as he threw it away. Heavy stared, aching in anticipation, not knowing or caring what was coming next but wanting it anyway.

Medic forced his fingers into his lover's ass, getting a deep, guttural groan in return. He curled them, feeling for the right spot, and in an instant Heavy felt a lance of euphoria shoot up his spine. He strained helplessly again, crying out and gasping for breath.

“Excellent,” Medic whispered, drawing out the word far longer than was needed. He held his fingers there at the ready, not moving, making Heavy squirm and thrust on his own. “Hold still, bitte.”

The razor sharp tip of the Ubersaw sank into his gut, opening up skin and muscle. It was a small incision, below his intestines and beside his bladder; the pain wasn't more than a dull, annoying ache that he could push to the back of his mind. It was all Medic needed, apparently. He tossed the Ubersaw to the floor, and pushed his hand into the cut.

The sensation of someone feeling around his organs was unique, in Heavy's experience, but not totally unpleasant. Medic's fingers still wiggled in his ass, keeping him hard when it seemed that his erection might falter. There wasn't even much blood while the doctor's hand was plugging the hole. He seemed to be searching for something, sliding his hand further and further unti-

“GAAAAAAHHH!” Heavy shouted and every muscle in his body contracted at once as Medic struck his prostate from both sides. The sensation was amplified a hundred fold, less like a lance and more like an explosion that ripped through his whole being; it was like an orgasm that just didn't stop, that annihilated all reason and all thought. The doctor set a hard rhythm going, fucking him roughly inside and out, and when Heavy thought he couldn't possibly take any more without passing out, he felt Medic's mouth around his cock.

He started to scream, over and over again, thrashing wildly and madly against the restraints to the point where he started to bruise his wrists and ankles. He didn't come, not yet – Medic's hand inside him held him back, as the pressure was building unbearably in his balls, stretching out the pleasure until it was close to pain. He couldn't beg for release; even his native Russian was lost to him.

Medic groaned around his thick flesh, then tore his hands out of Heavy's body and pulled his mouth away. Blood gushed wetly over his side and down into his crotch, running over his now-sensitive ass. The orgasm immediately started to take him over, and it was going to be incredible, but the doctor wasn't done yet. As Heavy's eyes rolled back in his head, he felt the rock-hard heat of the other man's erection sink into him and pound his prostate one last time.

Their screams could probably be heard in the enemy base. Heavy came first, snapping the restraints around his wrists as he roared and bucked madly. Medic wasn't far behind, swearing in German and blindly grabbing at anything, his face a mask of violent agony. He finished inside him, semen mixing with lube and blood and splattering across the table.

Heavy gripped the doctor's torso and pulled him up for a long, wet kiss. Medic reached over and pressed the handle of the Medigun, healing Heavy of the worst of the damage. The bodily fluids always remained, thankfully. He was always very precise, too – just enough to prevent major damage, not enough to remove the love bites and scratches, or the feeling of being so wonderfully sore.

“Mmm, vas it good for you?” Medic whispered against his cheek.

Heavy smiled as he stroked his back. “I promise I never call you kiddie again,” he said, “if you teach me how to do same to you.”

Medic chuckled. “You are not trained in medicine – zat could take years, you know.”

“Da, I know.”

There was that look again, in his doctor's eyes. That unspoken question of whether they would be together that long, and the answer that Heavy didn't need to give voice to. They both knew.

Medic settled into his arms, kissing his neck and making that soft purring noise that meant he was happy. Heavy let himself relax and enjoy the feel of his body, but his mind was already at work again. He would have to think of something pretty special for tomorrow if he was going to top this.