1 . Name: penm @ 2011-09-06 02:47

Title: Heavy Weapons Training for the Medical Man
Pairing: Heavy/Medic
Disclaimer: All characters are property of Valve, although I would really like to lick or possibly bite Medic.
Author's Notes: Because I am (sigh) better at writing Medic than I am playing him, and I enjoy writing porn more than I do work term reports. Concrit is welcome. Enjoy.

***

Medic stands in front of Heavy's door, hand poised but stayed by an uncertainty almost foreign to the German. He huffs to himself, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. Heavy had invited him almost immediately after he had found out that the German doctor played chess. Which in itself would be absolutely fine, of course, but Medic is almost certain that there is something else underlying their regular conversation like an electric pulse. He just isn't sure that Heavy notices it too.

He is acting ridiculous. It irks him. Squaring his shoulders, he knocks.

"Come in," he hears Heavy call from inside the room. Medic steps in, meticulously closing the door behind him before he turns to see what Heavy is doing.

"Guten Abend, Heavy," Medic says, approaching Heavy and peering over his shoulder to see what the big man is doing.

"Please set up chessboard, Doktor. I will be done this soon."

Medic watches with fascination and no small amount of want as Heavy's hands move possessively over his minigun. The man's fingers are agile for all their size; Medic's head spins for a moment imagining them moving in some other, completely different context.

"Vhat can impressive piece of machinery, Herr Heavy."

It isn't meant to be a come-on, exactly, but Heavy wipes his oily hands on a rag and turns his head slightly to glance at him sidelong. It is a lascivious look, and in that moment Medic knows that he hadn't been imagining things at all. "Doktor," Heavy replies innocently. "I did not know you are interested in this kind of thing."

Oh ho! Is that how he wants to play, then? Medic decides that he can push this a little further. "Nein. Normally, not so much, Herr Heavy. While my vork has given me great appreciation of ze human body in all its forms," he says, pausing for a few moments to let this sink in, "I am afraid I am not so vell-educated vhen it comes to armaments. However, zat being said even I can tell zat zis is somezhing truly... extraordinary." Medic licks his lips. "I suppose, though, it can only be expected zat such a strong man vill have such a... big... gun."

There is a pause.

"Her name is Sasha, Doktor."

Good lord, he's named the gun? Well, that in itself is not so unusual – Medic himself has named a few of his favourite implements, after all, but it does cause him to ponder the implications of why Heavy's gun has a female name. Any worries he might have had, however, promptly evaporate in the wake of the look Heavy trains on him. It is a gaze that might have been described as 'wanting', or might also have been defined as 'hungry', 'lustful' or perhaps 'predatory'.

"Vell, she is very vell-made, Herr Heavy. My congratulations."

Heavy smirks. "Thank you, Doktor. I am sure Doktor and Sasha will be good friends soon."

"Ja," Medic breathes reverently. His fingers itch with the desire to touch, to grasp – whether the gun or the man is irrelevant.

"Does Doktor want touch Sasha?" Heavy asks, and the low timbre of his voice sends something akin to lightning up Medic's spine.

"Ja," Medic says again. He reaches out.

"Nyet!" Heavy's voice is sharp. Medic recoils, about to withdraw the offending hand, but Heavy grabs it before he does. "Ah, sorry, Doktor, but Sasha is... how you say? Has temper. Is not used to other men. I show you how to hold. Come." He crooks two fingers in an invitation.

It must be a kind of sorcery, Medic thinks, that a man he has known so briefly can elicit all kinds of interesting (but carefully-hidden) responses from Medic's body. If this kind of power could be harnessed and weaponized, they could demolish BLU without having to lift a finger – the other team would probably hump each other to death. Making a mental note to check Heavy's blood for anything abnormal, Medic positions himself behind the minigun. A tremendous amount of heat floods his back suddenly when Heavy steps behind him. "Like this, Doktor," Heavy rumbles, taking Medic's hands and arranging them on the handles, one at the front and one at the rear.

"She feels... nice," Medic says slowly. He resists the urge to push his body backwards against Heavy's, but only just barely.

Heavy tsks. "Nyet. Doktor is being too gentle. Need to hold her properly. Need to be, ah, confident." Heavy's hand describes a small arc through the air.

"Like zis?" Medic asks. He releases the forward handle, leans over a little to snake his hand under the long muzzle and cup the barrel firmly from beneath.

"You pick up quickly, Doktor."

"I am honoured zat you zhink so, Herr. However, I must confess zis is not my first time handling a gun, alzhough I haff never handled one quite zis large."

This seems to surprise Heavy; Medic can feel it in the sudden, startled movement of his body. "When did Doktor...?"

"In ze army. It vas only a medic's sidearm. I am out of practice now, of course, but... but I vould like to believe I vas quite efficient viz it." Which is true in both the literal sense and the metaphorical. He had been an accomplished combatant and lover.

"I am sure Doktor will get better with practice." Heavy's low, deep chuckle feels like it rumbles through his bones.

Medic bites his lower lip. Hell and damn but does he ever want this man. To hell with it. Fortune favours only the bold.

"With your help," he replies, looking at Heavy over his shoulder with the most seductive look he can muster, "I am sure I vill be better zan I ever vas." He releases Sasha, turning around to find that they are standing so close one deep breath would press their bodies together. Heavy's pupils have dilated to the point where his eyes are almost black. Medic's breath catches in his throat. He tips his head up, eyes closing of their own accord.

Heavy leaps away from him, towards the door.

Medic's eyes pop open, and he can feel his heart sinking like lead into his stomach. Never has he misjudged a man so badly. Though he is trim for his forty-eight years, he doubts he can put much of a resistance against Heavy's fists. The existence of Respawn is a comfort to him, though not much of one – it only means Heavy will be able to pummel him to death as often as he pleases. He braces himself to be hauled bodily and slung out the door like a sack of potatoes.

Instead, Heavy takes three great strides to the door, shuts it, and bolts it locked.

It is a brief second before the significance of this makes its way to Medic's brain. He sags in relief. "Doktor," Heavy growls, rushing back to Medic, strong hands coming to grip his arms right above the elbows. Medic is treated to the singular experience of being tipped back, literally swept completely off his feet, and kissed with unrestrained passion.

Medic can do nothing but comply when Heavy pushes him past the table where Sasha rests – not that he would resist anyway. He allows himself to be dropped onto the bed, props himself onto his elbows to watch Heavy shuck bandolier and bullet belt.

"I had no zat you felt zis vay, Heavy," he smirks, coy, playing with the top button of his shirt.

Heavy looks down with a gaze both amused and dark with desire. "That is lie, Doktor. When we are close – is like heart is going too fast, inside chest. And I know it is same for you."

"True," Medic sighs. "Ahh. Kiss me, Heavy."

"With pleasure, Doktor," Heavy replies, and his lips are on Medic's again. Medic sits up, snakes his arms around Heavy's neck. He is loath to relinquish his hold, even when it hinders Heavy's undressing of him. One hand comes up to cup the back of Heavy's head, feeling stubble; the other grips a fistful of Heavy's t-shirt.

He doesn't realize that Heavy has taken care of all his buttons until the bigger man is pushing his shirt past his shoulders. Reluctantly he lets go of Heavy, allows himself to be divested of his shirt. He tugs Heavy's t-shirt off while Heavy sets to work on his trousers and boxer shorts. He moans as his flushed cock springs free, twitching of its own volition under Heavy's approving gaze.

"Doktor is also impressive. Not big, like Heavy, but still... looks good, looks very, very good," he says. Medic waves away the compliment – or he would have, had Heavy not chosen that moment to settle between his legs take him into his mouth.

"Nnghh," he says instead, and his back arches back so far he half-thinks he might snap.

It is hot, so hot and wet, made sweeter by how long it's been since he even felt the touch of another. Medic curls over, cradling Heavy's head as that blessed man licks earnestly up and down his length. Medic is no boor – he prides himself on being a conscientious and attentive lover – but Heavy's mouth is so good that he is rapidly losing all presence of mind and thrusting mindlessly as any green boy might.

When Heavy slides warm hands under his rear and tips his hips forward to take his entire cock, Medic looses a shout that he's sure can be heard from the enemy base.

Heavy releases Medic's shaft and looks up reprovingly. "Doktor. Keep it down."

"I'm trying," Medic hisses.

"Try harder," advises Heavy. "Or maybe I find a way to make you stay quiet."

"By all means, Herr Heavy," Medic says, perhaps a shade more challenging than he has any right to be when his pants are puddled around his ankles.

Heavy seems to consider it for a moment. "Maybe another time," he says philosophically, standing up to tower over Medic. "Take off pants, Doktor." Medic struggles with the rest of his clothing as Heavy fetches a small bottle of oil. "Now, open legs, Doktor." Medic's face flames as he obeys, watching Heavy drizzle oil over his fingers.

"Not wide enough," Heavy chides. His clean hand grips one of Medic's legs above the knee, and he spreads Medic further. Medic's cock gives one mighty twitch. The stretch in his thigh muscles burns quite deliciously, stopping just at a point just shy of discomfort. Heavy's other hand finds its way to Medic's ass, parting the buttocks.

"Does Doktor want this?" Heavy presses one slick finger to his entrance, teases the puckered hole with light, circled touches. Medic attempts a little squirm, but the hold on his thigh brooks no argument.

"Gottverdammter son of ein whore," he snarls, "if you don't do it right now I swear by all the –"

His rant is cut short as Heavy's finger pushes up, past the ring of muscle and into him. It's thick, but not uncomfortably so, and finds his prostate quickly. All of Medic's anger melts into senseless pleasure.

"I take it back," he pants, "I take it all back scheiße bitte ja Heavy please oh Gott – " Another finger breaks his babbling, and, hand on his thigh or no, he is bucking like a cowboy riding a bull at the rodeo.

"So eager," Heavy notes in awe. He removes first one finger, then the second, drawing a moan from Medic as they pull out. He flops back onto the bed and lies there, mind wiped blank, until he can feel something smooth and hard pressing against his opening again. He looks down just in time to see Heavy's thick cock prod his entrance, vein pulsing lazily as the Russian slides the tip in slowly then drives it in all the way.

He would have screamed then, he knows, but Heavy has anticipated this, and has pressed a gloved hand to his mouth. His cry is muffled, and he is so desperate that he tries repeatedly for a bite, with no success.

"Stop it, Doktor, or I will punish you." Good Gott in Himmel. Medic isn't sure if he wants to obey or rebel, because frankly, both options seem tempting at this point. His lack of resistance must have seemed like acquiescence, because Heavy removes his hand from Medic's face and grabs his hip instead.

"Touch yourself," Heavy demands. Medic wraps his hand around his shaft, and, shuddering with effort, begins to stroke. "Do not come until I say," Heavy orders, and his eyebrows snap down, daring Medic to disobey.

"Jawohl," Medic gasps, though he isn't sure this order is one he can follow.

With that, Heavy seizes Medic's legs at the knee, pushes them up towards his chest, and pounds into Medic furiously. In a distant part of Medic's mind, he worries about the structural integrity of the bed, but the rest of him is far past caring as Heavy slams into him hard and fast, relentless. The motion of his hand on his cock has flagged, partly due to distraction and partly because he knows if he goes any faster, he will come. But he just might anyway, because Heavy's sounds of appreciation and the slick noises of Heavy's cock moving inside him are bringing his arousal to agonizing levels.

It feels like eternity before Heavy speaks. "Want you to come," he growls. "NOW, DOKTOR," he booms, and the last two words are a roar punctured by two brisk, cruel thrusts, precisely angled for his prostate.

Hand moving frantically again on his dick, Medic comes, his body obedient to Heavy as though it has been trained to this, his back snapped taut as a bowstring, screaming German obscenities mixed with English words and noises that sound more animal than human.

As he lies pleasantly sated, unable to move, Medic feels Heavy's cock thicken – or perhaps his own inner muscles have tightened – and he is soon filled with the heat of Heavy's release.

Heavy slumps over him, warm and weighty, but not unpleasantly so, although at some point Medic will have to move him or risk having circulation cut off from his limbs. Still, it wouldn't be anything the Medigun can't fix, so Medic decides to let him lie there for a little bit. If this affords him the opportunity to touch the small of Heavy's back intimately, well, so much the better.

Presently, Heavy stirs and rolls off of Medic, folding his hands behind his head. "Engineer builds good bed," he notes, voice gravel. "Is good to know."

"Yes, vell, I don't zhink ve can congratulate him on zat vithout also telling him vhat ve vere doing to test it out," Medic notes sleepily. He yawns and slides his glasses off his face and passes them to Heavy, who places them on the bedside table. Curling up against Heavy's side, he lays his head on Heavy's chest, which is comfortable despite how hard-muscled it is.

"Did Doktor enjoy... ah..." Heavy trails off for a moment as Medic traces idly the outline of one nipple. "Did Doktor enjoy free ticket to gunshow?"

"Ja," Medic answers happily. "Best gunshow in town."


END