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No. 8297
I guess this thread should have been called 'Ginyanote's attempt at writing stories for each of Humon's beautiful art pieces', or something similar. I'm challenging myself to write something for each of Humon's pictures that I can find posted to The Chan. Bear with me, everyone.
Pic should be Humon's gorgeous rendering of Medic and Heavy, with a tied up Demoman and Soldier, but duplicate files error...blahblahblah. Enjoy.
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It had started with gentle threats from Medic; a syringe on one hand, its glistening tip clutching at a single drop of green liquid and a scalpel in the other, its blade no doubt honed to a deadly level of sharp. Heavy was in on it too; his broad face sporting a frown that could crack glass and the fists at his sides surely aching to smash something to pieces.
Demoman had given in first. His state of inebriation was high but he was still lucid enough to know what was happening, stumbling over his words but following orders like the good little 'lesser-race' that he was. Soldier scowled and refused to move, until Medic threatened him with the syringe, stabbing in his direction and chuckling deep in his throat as Heavy stood like a wall behind the short American, blocking his getaway.
“I zink not, Herr Soldier. Zis vill be an experience you von't vant to write home to your Mozzer about, but you vill remember it all zhe zame.”
They were ordered to undress and stand facing each other, the lengths of rope that had been occupying the examination table were taken up by the enormous Russian and looped over his hands as he stalked back towards the pair. They were about the same height with their boots on and as Medic watched from the sidelines, his outer jacket removed and his sleeves rolled up over the elbows, Heavy bound the men together.
Demoman had almost automatically lifted his arms to wind around Soldier's neck, while Soldier refused to clutch the Scotsman to himself, his face flushed from what could only be disgust, but Medic and Heavy knew the pair were old friends and had certainly seen each other naked, if not indulged in each other's services during drunken nights or lonely ones in the barracks.
“Play nice now, Herr Soldier. Zis vill be over sooner if you co-operate.”
The American scowled but moved sluggishly in the direction that was the most comfortable, curling his arms around Demonman's waist. His hands stuck out straight and he clenched them into tight fists as Heavy secured them with the rope, then did the same to the Scotsman's, leaving them the ability to part if they worked together, but then terminating said ability once he tied their upper arms together as well, tugging the knots to make sure they were tight.
There was no space between their bodies and now that they were secure, Medic moved back from his vantage point, lovingly curling a hand under Heavy's chin and pressing a light kiss to his lips, earning a pleased sigh from the large man. The German placed something in the Russian's hand and then he moved behind Demoman nodding to Heavy over the black man's shoulder, indicating that he was free to do what he wished with the stiff American now that they had been properly restrained.
Heavy nodded back and slicked the first two fingers of his left hand with the lubricant Medic had handed him. He handed the tube to the German and carefully slid the digits between Soldier's ass cheeks, receiving a rather unwelcome squeezing of the man's glutes as the cool slickness touched him. Heavy's clean hand moved to rest on the American's back, rubbing small open-palmed circles into the warm skin.
He had been instructed bu Medic beforehand, that they could not penetrate either of them unless Medic's demands had been met. Heavy was fine with that, as long as he could touch the gruff American's hole, even teasing it a little bit with his large fingers, giving small nudges with the pads of them as if he were about to slide inside. He stopped himself each time, knowing that what Medic had said was true; that Soldier would eventually give in but it would take a lot of teasing and even more mental persuasion.
Medic was similarly occupied, with a hand curling over the back of Demoman's neck, soothingly pressing at the muscles in an attempt to coax the Scotsman into doing his bidding. The muscled body arched back at the waist as Medic's hand delved down between his cheeks, aroused by the closeness of Soldier's body and the alcohol in his system warming him through, moaning sadly as the hand moved.
The German had no qualms about smearing the thick lube across Demoman's ass and his lower back, massaging it in as if he were using scented oils and not simply the slippery, stringy surgical lubricant he so cherished.
“Zhe game is qvite zimple, Herr Soldier,” Medic started quietly, pausing as he let the American clear his throat, the pink across his face immediately giving away his state of arousal. “Zhere vill be no release or zatisfaction for either of you, unless ve zee zome sloppy kissing.”
Demoman moaned loudly, or as loudly as it could have seemed, when the infirmary was deathly silent as it was. Soldier turned his head away as the Scotsman licked at his cheek, ready for anything now that he was beyond his arousal limits, what with Medic's hand again between his glutes sliding slippery fingers against his hole. The barest hint of a tip slipped past his first line of defense and Demoman opened his mouth a little wider, mouthing dry lips over Soldier's cheek in perverse mimicry of a kiss.
Soldier was glad for the helmet still covering his head, as his cheeks coloured even more. Embarrassing, that's what it was! Men didn't fraternize with other men! Heavy prodded at Soldier's backside hard enough that he, too slipped inside for a brief second, earning a shy sort of yelp from the American and a good bit of thrust from his lower half, as his ass pressed out towards the Russian and his belly rubbed Demoman's trapped cock.
Heavy grinned and let a deep chuckle go free, only vaguely aware of how the pair seemed to be moving their hips towards each other. They could easily stroke each other off between them but neither Medic nor Heavy thought it would come to that just yet.
“Game not hard for old friends,” said Heavy, a small drop of sweat trickling from the side of his forehead.
It could have been through telepathy or Soldier's desire to be rid of the entire situation, but he finally turned his head to face Demoman and pressed his lips against those of the drunken Scotsman, moaning ashamedly as it was returned with equal force. His clenched hands were released and hesitantly, Soldier clutched at Demoman's back, the Scotsman's enthusiastic kisses tilting the American's helmet off, revealing the well-groomed crew cut and a rather flushed looking face. Soldier had closed his eyes and kept them that way throughout the ordeal, his eyebrows moving each time Demoman made a particularly loud smacking noise, their tongues sliding together and small moans exchanged between them.
“Sehr gut, ja, Herr Heavy?”
“Da, Doktor.”
Medic nodded to his partner and quickly slid two fingers inside of Demoman's tight hole, curling them hard against the soft tissues, savouring the keening wail the broad Scotsman gave in return. Soldier grunted sharply as Heavy did the same, the Russian's fingers so massively large that one was enough to fill the hot orifice to capacity, a second simply nudging at the entrance but unable to slide inside. Heavy frowned and then upped his actions, tearing the Soldier's hole slightly as he forced the second digit inside.
Soldier gasped in a way that was considerably un-manly, though it did something for Demoman, who licked at his lips and grimaced, his visible eye clenched shut as he thrust forward, rubbing himself on Soldier's jutting belly. He mumbled under his breath as Medic finger fucked him, forcing himself back onto the slick digits and rubbing himself from the front.
The American needed no stimulation from the front, as the feeling of being filled so severely and the ache of torn flesh was enough. He released suddenly, violently, spilling between himself and his best friend, most of it dripping onto their boots. Heavy removed his fingers and single-handedly unbuckled his pants, letting them drop to the floor while he stroked his cock with the soiled fingers, bringing himself off quickly and spattering Soldier's back with his seed.
Medic let Demoman fuck himself on the German's fingers while the Scotsman held Soldier tightly, his fingernails digging deep marks into the American's neck and shoulders while he released, his gutteral grunts loud in the echoing infirmary. The pair seemed weak in the knees as they swayed slightly, held up only by Heavy's hand on Soldier's back, as Demoman leaned heavily against the American and breathed against his shoulder.
Heavy eyed the German, who had stepped back a bit, both of his hands working to undo his slacks, staining the dark fabric with lubricant. He lifted his left hand to steady himself against Demoman's back, his head down as he stroked himself in the open, grimacing at the deliciousness of it. He stared at the tiny droplets of semen that dotted the mens' boots and his once-spotless floor, desiring nothing more than to lick it up. The second he imagined the salty tang of the precious fluid, he released against Demoman's back, aiming himself just above the crack of the Scotsman's ass, so his seed ran down between the man's cheeks, a self-satisfied little laugh issuing forth.
He calmed himself as he stepped back, waving a hand at Heavy so that he could untie the pair and let them go.
“Zhey can go now, mein Liebeling. I am finished vis zem.”
Heavy nodded confirmation and bent down to fetch his pants, buckling himself back up and untying the knots with clumsy fingers still slick with various fluids. Heavy growled as he simply tore the rope instead, pointing to the piles of clothes and jabbing a thick finger towards the swinging double doors, now irritated as well as satisfied.
“Doktor says get lost.”
It was simple enough of a command and though Demoman was unsteady on his feet as always and Soldier scrambled to get out like a cat caught on a slippery floor, they curtailed their shyness and ran out without dressing first, their privates covered by armfuls of discarded clothing. Heavy turned back to Medic, who had pulled his slacks closed and buckled his belt, a dangerous little smile on his long face.
“Who better to teach zhe lesser races to 'make love not var', zan us?”
He lifted a hand to curl around the back of Heavy's neck as the giant Russian bent down to wind his beefy arms around the other's smaller frame, kissing him hard. Their plans were in motion and quickly gathering speed as they hurled downhill. There were so many combinations they could create with the remaining seven members of the team, not to mention those who visited on occasion.
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