1 . Name: Loviatar @ 2009-07-29 21:05

RAPE AHOY.

I just had another sleepless night so I spent it writing this fic. I haven't written a lot of porn (this is my second porny fic akshully), and my Boston accent tends to turn into a New York accent by accident since I'm not American. Also I've heard that when I write accents they turn out unbearable to read. Oh well, it turned out about how I wanted it to turn out.

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Gunshots echoed behind me as I ran, cussin' up a storm an' holdin' a hand to my side. The wound wasn't too bad - I could still run fast enough to outrun any of the chumps I was meant to fight, but I didn't feel like pressing my luck and headin' back to the front. The dispenser I'd seen earlier wasn't there anymore. What was left of it smoked slightly, so it probably hadn't been sapped or shot to shit a long time ago. Just my goddamn luck, really. I felt tempted to yell out for Hardhat to rebuild it, but then again, we'd managed to cap a point, so he was probably busy settin' up a sentry or a teleport someplace. I liked stayin' on his good side, and buggin' him right now wouldn't let me do that. Medic was on the front too, I figured, healing up the big guys who could soak up hits. He'd never botha'd to give me a second glance, even when I was dyin'. So what if I was the smallest guy on tha team? I had plenty o' perks that not bein' a huge hunk-a meat gave me.

Trying to remember where I could find a stashed medpack and failing, I turned tail and headed back to the fight, hopin' I could find a dispenser or maybe shout at Medic until he gave me two seconds of his precious healing ray. All I could hear was the tap of my own runnin' shoes: I kept movin' despite the sting in my side, tryin' to figure out where the fightin' was hardest and where Medic and Engy would likely be at, when I heard the goddamn whistle.

Now, if you never heard an arrow fly, you have no idea what the shit it sounds like. It's this really high-pitched, weird thing that you can't figure out where it's coming from, and then you hear the little 'shoop' as it goes past ya, and then you hear the thunk from it hittin' whatever it hits. I wasn't payin' much attention to the sound, tho'. I was more paying attention to the thing pinnin' my left arm to the fuckin' wall behind me. It's kinda funny, now that I think about it. It didn't really hurt at first: I guess I was in shock or somethin', 'cause all I could do was stare at that bit o' wood stickin' outta my arm, blood startin' to dribble out around it, kinda like booze drips down Demo's chin sometimes when he's really pissed and tryin' to drink straight from tha bottle. That was when it started to hurt like a bitch. Don't think I've ever screamed like that in mah life, man... It was just too fuckin' much, lookin' at that thing and tryin' to pull my arm from the wall and it just hurtin' like a motherfucker and not moving. Barely got myself togetha enough to pull mah pistol an' try and see if the owner of the arrow was showin' up.

It was fuckin' awful, just standin' there, tryin' to tug the arrow outta my arm with half mah hand while I waited for the Sniper who shot it to show up. I tried callin' for help, even did that dispenser line Hardhat hates, but nobody showed up. Guessin' they thought if I was in trouble, I could either handle it or I was dead meat already. Nice of them, really, to put that much confidence in me, but I couldn' really appreciate it right then, ya know? I wasn't losin' blood all that fast, but I was gettin' kinda jittery, and I could tell my hand was gonna start shakin' soon. If I was gonna make it outta this, I had to get the arrow out - but if I put mah piece away, fuckin' Sniper could finish me off just like that. Couldn't fuckin' decide what to do, so I just kinda tried to keep mah head together and wait for the son of a bitch to show his long face.

Didn't take him long to show up, now that I look back at it. Yeah, he can't have been too far away - that fuckin' bow of his, Huntsman or whatever, doesn't have the longest range. I was cussin' myself for gettin' caught like this when he showed up, and he had this weird look on his face, like he was sorry for me or sumthin'. It was a fuckin' cold day then, colder than we usually get 'round these parts, and his breath was steamin' and it made him look like some cowboy-hat-wearin' demon straight outta Hell like what vicar had described back at home. He was walkin' so fuckin' slowly that I couldn' stop myself from groanin'. How fuckin' long was he gonna keep me pinned to this goddamn wall?! Couldn' he just get over here an' get this over with? I admit, I was kinda panickin' then: barely remembered I was holdin' mah piece. I tried to shoot him, but by then mah hands were shakin' too much, and I just dropped the fuckin' thing, and I would'a tried to pick it up but my knees were turnin' to jelly by then and I was afraid I wasn't gonna get back up if I bent over then. Fuck, I mighta been dyin', but I wasn't gonna give the dickhead who'd put me in this jam a chance to kill me lyin' down if I could help it.

"Come on, tough guy! Get over heah and I'll pay you back for this shit!"

I gestured randomly at mah arm, accidentally movin' the hand at the end of it and makin' mah stomach churn at the weird feelin' it caused. The muscles moved around the arrow and it felt so fuckin' weird, and it still hurt so bad, and I just kinda wanted to hurl right then and there because I'd felt hurt before but not a weird kind of hurt like this. And the Aussie motherfucker just kept starin' at me, starin' right in my eyes whenever I looked back at him. The feelin' that I was gonna hurl got worse. I panicked again, tuggin' at the arrow even though I kinda knew somehow it wasn't gonna come out: I'd tried pullin' one out of a wall before just for the fun of it, and I never had gotten one out.

He got so close to me so quietly that when I looked away from mah arm again I jumped. The movement made the arrow budge, and I let out this embarrassin' little wail, like a dog gettin' hit. Fuck, it was either right through the bone or lodged between 'em - I couldn't remember hearin' a crack, but then again, fuck if I could remember where I was fuckin' from right then, I was so scared shitless. The Sniper was holdin' his kukri, like I was expectin' him to, and I kinda smirked when I saw it. He wasn't smilin', though. Fuckin' serious, like this was a funeral or somethin'.

"Come on, man. Don't be a bitch, don't leave me hangin' here like this. Just kill me, get the braggin' rights, move on to the next chump, okay?"

That was when shit got weird - the Aussie just looked at me like Mom used to look at me when I'd said somethin' really stupid. Then he stepped right close up to me and grabbed my jaw with his free hand. His hands felt frickin' weird: ain't nobody but girls touched my face like that before, and their hands don't feel like some sorta weird leather with sharp scrapey bits where he'd had callouses or somethin'. He was bein' rough, too, turnin' my head from side to side so hard I thought he was gonna sprain my neck. The way he was lookin' at me made me think of the guy who lived down the street back at home, the one who bred fightin' dogs in his back yard: I'd seen him lookin' at the puppies once, tryin' to figure out which ones o' them were gonna be fighters. I knew what those puppies felt like all of a sudden, and I was gonna show him I was a fighter.

I spat in his face and muttered somethin' like "fuck you, you fuckin' fuck" under my breath, and he finally budged. Wipin' the loogie off the side of his nose with the back of his other hand, he smiled. Not grinned like I was expectin' him to, but smiled, this soft sorta smile I expected he gave to the ladies in the bedroom when he was tryin' ta get them outta their dresses and into his pants. I started feelin' like I was way outta my league, so I tried to pull myself away from him, willin' to pull my arm around the arrow if I had to. My feet were still kinda tryin' to give way, though, and I just kinda ended up stumbling against him. My side was turned to him now, my foot touchin' his. He made this little 'hmph' noise.

The Sniper shoved me against the wall then, and I probably screamed or somethin' like that when the arrow moved around in mah arm again, or rather the arm moved 'round the arrow. He had me held so that my right arm was between the wall and mah chest, and his body was pressin' against mine so hard I could barely breathe, let alone try and get my arm out again. I'm guessin' he wasn't the type to take risks, 'cause he slipped his arm around my waist and undid my belt while I was tryin' to jiggle my way out from under him. Didn't really work, as my knees were really startin' to give by then and I was gettin' a little woozy - not bad enough that I was gonna die right then and there, I knew, but enough that the bleedin' would likely get to me eventually. Yankin' me back from the wall so that my arm moved and I let out some sorta noise again, he wrapped the belt around my chest, leavin' my arm pinned up against it. I was a fuckin' sitting duck now, and I had no fuckin' idea what he was doin'.

When he kicked my legs apart and made me slump to tha ground, I felt really weird - what the shit was this guy doin' to me? My pants were slidin' down, and I felt really fuckin' awkward now. Was probably blushin'; ain't that a treat. He yanked me back up and my pants didn't follow, leavin' me standing there in my drawers with my military issued around my knees. The guy actually took a step back for a sec, laughin' a little at somethin' - guess I had skid marks that day - before grabbing my ass. He wasn't just grabbin' it a little, either, but he was maulin' and pinchin' it like crazy. If I'd ever done that to a girl when tryin' to get some from her, I thought to mahself, she woulda kicked me out in three seconds. That was when I fuckin' realized what was goin' on.

The faggot bastard was gonna rape my ass.

I froze for a bit then, barely noticin' when he tugged my tighty whiteys down and started kneadin' my balls like two hard-boiled eggs in a tube sock. All I could think of was what Mom would say if she ever found out her son got ass-raped on the battlefield. She'd be horrified, try not to show it at first but call the parish soon as she could, then call the hospital to ask Doc if her son was a homo now. I knew I was never gonna tell anyone about this shit. Not even whoever ran across my corpse later. I didn't know whether the Sniper was gonna kill me or not, but I sure as hell was hopin' he would. His hand was too rough on my sack and I winced and tried to lean forward outta reflex: he let go, and I suddenly felt just how fucking cold it was out here. My breath was steamin' now, too, and my meat and veggies were tryin' their hardest to climb inside my groin to save themselves from frostbite. The cold wall I was pressed against just made it worse, the surface of it just leechin' my body heat away. The only warm thing I could feel was the body pinnin' me against the wall, and that was pretty much the last thing I wanted to feel.

He shifted then, and I probably didn' actually hear him do it, but my brain filled in the noise of him unzippin' his fly. The feelin' of his cock rubbin' against my ass made me realize I was shakin', shakin' so hard I could barely stand. He was sorta holdin' me up with one arm, and I wasn't sure what the other one was up to, but it was movin' 'round like he was searchin' for somethin' and I suddenly got it. He'd been campin' out there, waitin' for me to come through that door there so he could pin me down and use me like a fuckin' piece of meat. A cold feelin' started spreadin' through me then, makin' me numb everywhere but the throbbin' wound in my arm. Standin' there waitin' for it was the hardest part. Didn't have any clue what to expect - somethin' like when you haven't gone to the crapper in a week and then really have to go, or somethin' like someone tryin' to split your ass open with a knife (which I had felt once, fucken' Frenchies can't keep up with me long enough to hit my back). I heard him mumble somethin', sounded kinda like "can't tear the intestine" and somethin' about riskin' the meat, and I shuddered pretty hard at that mental image.

Suddenly, he bent down and picked up that enormous knife of his, and the terror came straight back to me in place of the sorta numbness I'd started to feel. What the shit was the guy gonna do? All he was doin' was rubbin' himself against my crack, and it was kinda startin' to sting, what with the skin rubbin' against skin. I could feel he was pretty hard, and just what chafin' against my ass did to him I won't ever wrap mah head around, and who had ever heard of a rapist just rubbin' up against someone's butt? The skin down there was really startin' to chafe now, and the blade of his -- kukri, that was the word, was startin' to scrape my neck, and I finally felt somethin' that was familiar in all this weirdness. I felt the fear of death.

Turns out I had every right to. Seconds later, he sliced my neck open ear to ear - dude turns out to have awesome precision even when he's, yanno, jerkin' it, 'cause that's essentially what he was doin'. It's a really disturbin' feelin' when your blood starts gushin' out all the big veins in your neck and down your chest and starts soakin' your shirt and the world starts gettin' real dark around you and everything sorta slows down before you fall into nothingness. It was an even shittier feeling when I realized dude was jizzing on my ass while I was literally dyin' in his arms. And just when I thought it couldn't get any worse, he twisted my limp soon-to-be-corpse around, smiled, and gave me a kiss right smack dab on the lips.

Last thing I saw was the fucker grinnin' at me from behind those piss-yellow glasses o' his. Dragon-breath was hoverin' round his head, and his lips and chin were covered with the blood that had been bubblin' outta my mouth. Swear to God and all the saints and little angels I'll have nightmares about that sight the resta my life.

Ceasefire had started by the time I respawned, and the rest of the guys were callin' it a night, but I had to get back out there. I had to rescue what was left of my previous body. Couldn't just leave "me" out there with that crazy. I ran fast as I could, pistol in hand, ready to shoot the rapist dickhead the moment I saw him. When I got to where he'd shot me, though, all I could find was a few bloodstains that were just startin' to dry up. The freak had taken my corpse and gone back to his base with it.

There's been a weird smell comin' from the otha base all night - wind's turned just so that it comes to mah room. Smells like cookin' meat, but no meat I know smells like that. There's this sick stench to it that's made me hurl four times already, and I just know I'm gonna spend the rest of the night on my knees in that toiled. Medic's worried as hell, but I can't tell him what I think the problem is.

The fucker's gonna pay for this. Gonna pay for this real good.