YES SCOUT, TELL US VOT HAPPENED.
..Pretty please?

Same thing I always say when asked for feedback:
1) Kill -ly adverbs with a passion, except in dialogue. (For example: "strangely soft"? You don't need that, you already expound on why the knock is strange.)
2) I'm never a fan of written accents except in the case of extreme emotional distress or non-standard grammar constructions. That said, your version of the Medic's accent is tolerable.

>>7371

1) Thanks, I've heard this before. It's unfortunately a bad habit of mine, and my beta reader NEVER catches it. I'll page through Part 2 and see if I can fix any of them.
2) Again, thank you--I had originally not written it in, but it looked so strange to me, I went back and added it.

Please, proceed.

Checked over this chapter, and I'm not happy with it at all, but I think it's presentable at least. It's been a looong time since I've written a sex scene, so brutal critique is much appreciated.

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Scout was at a full sprint, dodging the onslaught of the sentry's rockets and bullets. He moved just out of it's line of sight, only to be grabbed by the back of the shirt by a rather large hand. The hand pulled him back through a spray of bullets and around to the rear of the sentry, and he howled in pain, clutching at his middle. The hand released him briefly, and he pulled his arms away, only to find his palms stained with his own blood.

Something large moved behind him, but he was too busy staring at his own gore to even notice until that large hand grabbed one of his thin wrists and spun him around roughly to face him.

“The hell d'you think yer doin', boy?” The BLU Engineer snarled.

“The hell, man, just my job!” he yelped. When the Engineer started to pull him again, he dug his cleats into the ground and panicked. “Oh, fuck no, man, don't put me in front of that thing, I don't wanna die!” He pulled futilely, trying to get away from the Engineer.

The Engineer made a sound not unlike a bark. Scout couldn't tell if it was a laugh, or a growl. “If you didn't wanna die, son, you wouldn't be here in the first place, now wouldja?” But his expression had changed from anger to something unreadable—but equally intimidating.

Scout felt like a mouse being played with by a cat.

“I'm gonna have to teach you a lesson somehow, though, ain't I?” he snarled.

The Engineer whirled Scout around by the wrist, and the boy slammed into the back of the sentry. He couldn't breathe—the collision had knocked the wind out of him, and he struggled to prop himself up. . He could feel liquid sliding down his stomach and knew it was blood, and it only made his heart thump harder in his chest.

He felt two calloused hands slide up his sides, pushing his red t-shirt up and he went rigid.

“Fuck, man, what the fuck are you doin'?” He breathed, trying to turn around.

The Engineer just pushed him back into the sentry, growling. “You said you didn't want me t'kill ya...so I'm at least gonna make ya useful.” His voice was low and sand-papery, and it made every hair on Scout's body stand on end. “It gets real lonely 'round here, y'know,” he breathed against the back of Scout's neck.

Scout grit his teeth, shuddering in horror. “Don't do this man, this is so fucked up.”

The sentry briefly locked onto the RED Pyro and fired off a couple shots, the body of the machine pumping back into Scout's stomach twice, blinding him with pain and forcing his rear back against the Engineer's pelvis. He was forced forward again with a sharp smack to his bottom, and then felt his pants being tugged down. He opened his mouth to try and protest, but simply couldn't form words—he couldn't get enough air. He wished now that he had just let the Engineer kill him—surely it would have been less painful than this.

He heard the Engineer spit twice into his hand and then felt something press against his rear, and he stiffened, and suddenly there was horrible, white-hot pain all through his ass, his legs, and his back. He didn't even feel the Engineer's hands gripping his waist harder and harder, but after a while, he felt something else—something good, but he didn't like it at all.

He felt heat spread through his groin, and he lifted a hand off the sentry and around his cock, moaning in horrified surprise at how hard he was. The sentry caught sight of something and fired, forcing Scout back onto the Engineer's shaft. Scout came hard, bucking his hips back. His muscles clenched around the Engineer and the BLU gave him one more hard, bruising thrust and then came inside of him.

Scout slumped against the sentry, panting. When the orgasm passed, he was pushed to the side. The Engineer was dressed. “Get dressed n'get the hell outta here,” the Texan snarled.

Scout pulled his clothes on as quickly as he could and started to limp off, but not before the Engineer grabbed him around the waist. “You stay away from here if y'know whut's good for ya,” he growled. He gave the Scout a sharp slap on the ass and sent him limping away.

My only comments so far is you need to clarify how badly the Scout got shot, because from the way you described it I don't think the Scout would have been able to walk away from being raped on top of a bleeding stomach wound. All you'd need is like a quick line somewhere about the Engineer binding the injury just to staunch said bleeding, or make it so he was just nicked a little.

Second, I'm not exactly an expert in sex, but I'm pretty sure spit makes for pretty poor lubrication even for the guy doing the penetrating, and even with lube the guy on the bottom would need a little more preparation than "insert Tab A into Slot B". Wouldn't Engie have, like, mechanical lube in one of his trouser pants or something?

>>7377

Learning to love you--gonna make the required changes concerning Scout's wounds. He's pretty messed up--not scratched, but certainly not -dying.- I know the state he's in, but I guess I didn't translate that well when I started typing it out.

As for the spit-lube, that is actually something I was fighting myself over. I guess the wrong side won. Gonna make some moar changes so that it's suitable for y!.

Any title ideas? I'm still hangin'.

Critique asked for, critique given.
For me, it doesn't feel like Scout puts up enough of a struggle.. I mean, hell, he's in front of the other team's Engie potentially bleeding to death. I'd be scared as fuck and fighting like a champ. Or at least looking like some kind of animal for a way to escape. Also, as far as rape is concerned.. Not asking for elaboration on that in particular, but again, more -fight-.

>>7380

I hope your concerns are addressed in this chapter.
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As per usual, thanks for reading, and rip this chapter to shreds for me. I've finally got a title for it, so no worries there. And without further ado...

--

"So...I guess I sorta encouraged him," Scout muttered, kicking one of his legs half-heartedly. The pain medicine was starting to have an effect, and the Medic reckoned that cleaning him up had made him feel leaps and bounds better. "I just sorta...let him. I figured if I tried to fight him off, he'd throw me back in front of that stupid freakin' sentry and just let me die like that."

The Medic smoothed down the boy's hair lovingly. "Zat is certainly not ze case. You were frightened, as you should have been. I am...very sorry zat you had to endure zat, child." He touched Scout's cheeks with a bare hand to see if he felt feverish, then let his hand rest on one of Scout's.

Scout put a hand on top of the Medic's and peered up at him with heartbreaking eyes. "Just...don't tell anyone or nothin', Doc. I don't need that kind of stupid-bullshit-faggy attention."

"I vouldn't dream of it, Schätzchen."

"Wassat mean?"

"Nozzing important." He moved from his chair in front of the Scout, and climbed up next to him on the examination table, putting a warm arm around him. The boy leaned into it, and the Medic could feel for the first time just how badly he was shaking.

They sat in silence for a long time, Medic's arms wrapped protectively around the boy, until Scout stopped shaking and his breathing evened out. "Feel better?" the German whispered.

"Yeah, a lot. Thanks, Doc. Sorry I, uh...didn't come sooner." Scout peered at his socks. There was a hole in the left one, so he stuck his big toe through and wiggled it.

Medic didn't notice. "Nein, don't be. But from now on, come and see me if you need help, bitte. I'm here to help you, not humiliate you. I vould like you to stay here overnight so zat I may monitor you, however."

Scout whined and shook his head. "I just wanna shower and get into my own bed man, but...you could stay there with me, I mean, if you wanted to keep an eye on me or some shit." He looked at him hopefully.

The expression was painful to see on the fiery young man, like a child begging his parents to let him leave the hall lights on. The Medic considered carefully. It was really a pain to close down for the clinic in the night, but the Scout obviously didn't want to be alone, and that was understandable.

"Ja. Ja, I vill." He stood up and helped Scout up. The boy's walking was still all wrong--he'd have to speak with the woman in charge first thing in the morning about cancelling any up-and-coming offensive raids. Pyro and Spy were good, but they simply couldn't do it without the Scout or the Medic, and while the Scout wasn't physically up to it, there was no way the Medic was going to leave him alone anytime soon.

They were fortunate enough not to pass anyone but Pyro in the hallway, and the masked creature muttered something to Scout that neither Scout nor Medic could make out. The Pyro reached out and patted Scout gently on the shoulder before walking down the hallway, still muttering. Medic watched the display curiously, but decided maybe it was better not to ask at that moment.

The Medic left Scout at the showers. He had insisted on helping the boy bathe, but Scout insisted on the privacy, and the doctor couldn't argue. Instead, he went to Scout's room and retrieved a pair of clean boxer shorts, and a pair of socks, and then, sought out the Heavy.

The Russian's door was shut, so the Medic knocked, bouncing on his heels while he waited for an answer. He heard movement--something that sounded like a large, sleepy bear rummaging around--and then the door creaked open. "Doctor! It is late, yes?"

"Ja, Herr Heavy," the Medic said. "I have a...strange request, if you vould humor me for a moment."

"Of course!" He laughed. The Medic wondered how on Earth the man stayed so jolly, even after a defeat like today's.

"I require von of your vhite t-shirts. Ze Scout is quite torn up, und--"

"Ah," the Heavy said, his tone serious. "Something is...not right with little Scout. I notice this today after battle."

The Medic nodded solemnly, but said nothing more. The Heavy retrieved one of his giant t-shirts and handed it to the doctor.

"Danke schön, Herr Heavy," the doctor said, accepting the shirt. They said their goodnights and Medic started back to the showers.

On his way, he rolled the shirt out, and snorted. It was -huge.- He might have overdone it. He brought the clothing to the Scout, who was standing by the bench in front of the lockers, dusting his feet with Gold Bond. He laid them down on the bench and turned to let Scout dress in privacy.

"Thanks, Doc," the boy said. "Fuck me, look at the size of this shirt! Where the hell did you get this, Whales Emporium?"

The Medic snorted, bringing a hand up to his face. It was good to hear the boy getting some pepper back. He turned around after a moment and almost burst into hysterics.

The shirt was sliding off of one of the boy's shoulders, and nearly reached his knees. Sleeves that would have been short on the Heavy were down to the Scout's elbow. "Say somethin', and I drop ya."

"Nein, I von't say a zing," he said. "Do you feel better?"

"Loads. Back still hurts, but I think I'll be awright in a day or two."

They walked together back to Scout's room, where the doctor turned the boy's blankets down for him. Scout climbed into bed with a little difficulty and then stared at him expectantly.

"Um...vot?" The Medic asked.

"Gonna lay down? Bed's huge, Doc."

The Medic saw him go red in the face and was able to read the expression instantly. Don't let anyone get me, the kid was trying to say.

The doctor nodded and shut the door, removing his coat, boots and belt, placing them neatly on the boy's dresser. He turned out the light and laid next to the Scout, hands behind his head. He felt the Scout tug his glasses off, and watched his silhouette put them on the nightstand, right in front of the alarm clock.

After only minutes, the Scout was inching closer to him, shivering again. He shifted to the side and put an arm around him, whispering in German how much he cared about the boy, and how much he loved him and would do anything for him. He felt a little guilty that Scout, as cuddly as he was, was only looking for protection.

Scout tucked his head under the Medic's chin. "Yeah, whatever, you freaky Nazi bastard," he said softly.

Medic just smiled slightly. "Goodnight, Scout."

"Night, Doc. Thanks again. Don't let me sleep too late or nothin'."

"I vouldn't dream of it, Schätzchen."

Concerning the Medic:

I know he seems slightly out of character. The only reason for this is that he hasn't interacted with anyone except Scout and (briefly) Heavy.

My roommate brought that up and I just thought I'd mention it, in case there were any concerns.