[Author's note: Right, so. This is kind of a continuation of the Examination series, (http://tf2chan.net/afanfic/res/1506.html) going in-depth with the Medic's hatred and fear of the Pyro. It's for Neev, who asked for "Pyro porn, surprise me" in return for the lovely picture of the RED Demoman in little blue panties (http://tf2chan.net/afanart/res/3977.html). Surprising enough? If not, maybe you'll be satisfied by what the Pyro and the Demoman do together. Yes, they're going to.]
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On the battlefield or off, the Medic was a walking nightmare. It wasn't just that he'd use a bone saw to hack people limb-from-limb, nor that he could rain hundreds of stinging needles on his target. The terror came directly from him- his attitude, his presence. He had an unshakable confidence that everyone he saw, enemy or teammate, was beneath contempt. To be in the same room with him was to feel like an insect.

However, some people are afraid of insects. There are some things so vile, some incomprehensible that they can inspire fear from beneath even the deepest loathing. For the Medic, the Pyro was one such creature. It- the Medic couldn't dignify the monstrosity with a human pronoun- it was a nightmare's nightmare. Shambling and mumbling in its asbestos-and-rubber suit, it had horrified the Medic as soon as he laid eyes on it. He had thought that knowing what was under the bug-eyed black mask would purge the fear, but- no. What was under the suit was human, insofar as any of the other-races were human. That basis in reality only made the nightmares more real. The Pyro was everything despicable, everything negligible, everything that should by rights be subjugated to the will of superior beings- yet it lurched around, lighting its betters on fire.

It would lie in wait for hours, the Medic knew, slinking around corners, hidden behind expressionless glass eyes, waiting to burn. It had only ever burnt enemies... so far. But the Medic had seen its joy in flame, how it leaned toward a fire, the scars on its ugly body. It loved fire too much. It wanted to burn everything.

The Medic dealt with the fear the only way he knew how. He sneered at the Pyro, ignored it, berated it... and never turned his back on it. It never responded, never flinched. It just always managed to turn up behind him, staring with those round, black eyes.

This was what happened late one night- the Medic thought that he was alone in the infirmary, inspecting the beds on the long ward, when a gloved hand suddenly touched his shoulder. The Pyro was behind him when he spun around, and it already had its flare gun trained on his head. The German withdrew the hand that had already been reaching for his bonesaw, but did not raise his hands above his head. Instead, he crossed his arms.

"Vhat do you vant?"

The firestarter rasped something behind its mask, and gripped the crotch of its suit.

"Absolutely not."

The horror advanced, pressing its flare gun to the Medic's temple.

"I vould razzer respawn zen do vhatever you haf in mind."

The Pyro shot the Medic, without further discussion. At this range, even the flare gun was capable of turning life off like a switch. Floating in the darkness before respawn, the Medic was glad that it was over. He re-spawned soon enough, dusted himself off, headed back toward the infirmary- and there was the Pyro. He was already raising his flamethrower.

"Nein-" was all the Medic could manage before the fireball hit him. He screamed and dropped to the floor, trying to extinguish the flame, but the monster kept pouring on more fire. The last thing the Medic knew was the smell of burnt hair and charred meat.

Darkness, dread, and respawn. The Medic didn't have time to scream before the demon advanced again, finger already on the trigger. The fire hit, and the Medic did scream. He thought he felt the Pyro kicking him in the ribs as he died.

Back in the darkness again, the Medic wished that there was something to hold onto, some way to brace himself, some way to avoid respawning until the Pyro had gone. With no lungs to hyperventilate, no heart to race, the Medic's panic felt slightly distant.

This changed, of course, when he respawned again. Nauseated with terror, he immediately crouched and held his breath. Nothing happened. He opened an eye to look around. The Pyro was sitting, had dragged a chair into the resupply room, had been reading a magazine. It folded a corner over before standing in a leisurely way, flare gun at the ready. The Medic's stomach churned when he thought about what was coming next.

"Hrr." The Pyro pointed at the Medic, pointed at the floor, tugged its own crotch. The flare gun never wavered from its target in the centre of the Medic' s forehead.

"Ja," the Medic said miserably, dropping to his knees. The Pyro grumbled behind its mask, then jabbed its gun into the Medic's forehead. "... jawohl, mein Herr."

The Pyro unzipped its protective suit, revealing a narrow line of scar and bandages. The zipper went from the creature's throat down to its left knee. When the suit was unzipped all the way, the Pyro grabbed the Medic's hair with its free hand and shoved the Medic's face into its crotch.

The German closed his eyes, but he could not shut out the smell- stale sweat, fresh sweat, rubber, musk. The Pyro prodded his temple with the flare gun, reminding him of what would happen if he didn't perform as desired. Trying not to gag, the Medic opened his mouth. The flavour on his tongue was salty, earthy, sweet and bitter.

The monster ground into him, suffocating him, pressing coarse hair into his face, and made a sound of pleasure behind its mask. It was that sound, that little moan, that broke the Medic. He slumped down, then tried to scrabble backward, gasping and pleading in his native tongue. He was too panicked to notice the tears sliding down his face.

The Pyro hauled him back by his hair, then pistol-whipped him with the flare gun. Sickened by himself, the Medic opened his mouth again. This time, the Pyro straddled his face, all but wrapping its legs around his neck. It seemed that the interruption had only heightened its pleasure- its thighs were trembling and slick with sweat, and it moaned loudly at the first touch of his tongue.

Licking and sucking between swallowing sobs, the Medic did what he knew the demon wanted. He could tell it was close when the thing dropped its flare gun to hold his head down with both hands. Somewhere deep in his mind, the Medic considered trying to make a break for it now- struggling away, biting. The idea was discarded as soon as it occurred. Not only would it be suicide, but the Pyro would be waiting when he respawned.

Instead, he continued, hating himself. He suffered a rush of hot salt across his tongue as the thing came, legs shaking, moaning in abandon behind its mask. When it was done, it stood still for a moment, breathing loudly. The Medic felt that he might bee in shock, too hot and cold and full of shame to move. The creature grabbed a corner of his white coat to dry its crotch, zipped the suit back up, then knocked the Medic to the floor with a backhand blow. The Medic lay still while it gathered its flamethrower and flare gun to leave. It only paused long enough to kick him in the ribs and laugh before striding out the door.

The Medic dreaded the next time he'd see his face reflected in those black glass eyes.