[Author's Note: this is best read while listening to this song, http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SWNsyossf6s, and replacing the word 'woman' with 'shovel.' Cat Bountry, I nabbed your characterisation, neener neener.]
--------------------------------------------

The Soldier would never admit to fear. He would not flinch at bullets, bombs or walls of flame. He could stare unblinking into the eyes of Nazis, Communists and black people. He could cope with zombies, tentacle monsters, and a bathroom shared by nine men. But this... His mouth was too dry to speak.

/I said, don't you love me?/ Shovel repeated.

"... 'course."

/Then why won't you say it?/ The entrenchment tool's pleading voice was rich as honey, smooth as silk. There was no way the Soldier could deny that voice anything, ever.

"I... love you." The Soldier had once been shot in the Dordogne (or just above it) and getting the bullet out hadn't been as hard as getting out those three little words.

/I knew it!/ the Shovel cooed, without responding in kind. /I want you to prove how much you love me./

"What?!" He'd just said those words! Wasn't that enough?!

/I thought you said you loved me,/ that gorgeous voice sounded ready to cry.

"I do, I do! Anything you want, anything at all," the Soldier babbled.

/I want to fuck you,/ the honeyed voice was sultry, filthy, and warmed the Soldier through and through.

"Well, why didn't you just say so!" The Soldier brightened considerably as he undid his fly and stroked the dents on Shovel's blade just so.

/Mmm, that's nice... but it's not what I want tonight./ The Shovel's voice was an intimate purr. /I want to be... inside you./

The Soldier made a sharp intake of breath- he was far too manly for it to be a gasp- and had to steel himself so as not to recoil. "You mean you want to... in my pooper?"

/Don't be so crude,/ the hallucination cooed soothingly. /You've admitted that you love me. I want you to trust me, accept me, with every fibre of your being./ The voice was deep and tempting as dark water.

"I do, I do," the Soldier whispered helplessly. "But please- not that."

/You'll do anything for me- except what I ask. Is that how it is? As long as you're rubbing off on me, you love me?/

"No, but-" the Soldier whimpered.

/But!/ The Shovel spat. /But you won't do the one thing I've asked for in ages! I can't believe I'm having this conversation! How can you be so selfish? I'm done talking to you!/ The beautiful voice soared and swooped in histrionics, then ceased.

"Please, Shovel, be reasonable!" But the digging implement was silent. "Just... give me some time to get used to the idea!" Still nothing. "Please, baby, please, I'm sorry!"

Out in the hall, the Demoman heard the racket. He pressed his lone eye to the gap in the rough boards that constituted privacy in Sawmill, to see what had reduced the hard-nosed American to such a blubbering mess.

"All right, all right, I'll do it," The Soldier gave up. "Anything you want, whenever you want it, just like I promised."

/I'll believe it when I see it,/ the Shovel said frostily. Its voice was addictively beautiful, even when it was being a pissy bitch.

"You're seeing it," the Soldier promised. He stripped quickly, then knelt on the floor beside where the Shovel lay on the bed. "Please," he whispered, as he extended a tongue to lap the knob at the end of Shovel's shaft.

/Mmm,/ the Shovel purred. /Oh, Soldier, you've never done that before./

"I... I want to please you," the military man admitted, blushing, before sucking the entire knob into his mouth.

/Ohh, you're succeeding famously./ The full erotic power of the pleasure in that velvet voice hit the Soldier like, well, like a shovel to the skull. He moaned and slurped on the handle. When the Shovel said, /Oh lover, come lie down with me,/ the Soldier didn't waste a second in obeying. He clasped the Shovel to him, licking the shaft and fingering its sensitive dents. Its sounds of pleasure were music for his ears alone. He licked more earnestly and sped up his caresses, half to wring out more beautiful moans, half hoping that if he could pleasure Shovel this way, he'd be spared... other things.

/Oh, oh, ohhh- stop, my Soldier, my darling- / the Shovel gasped.

"What is it? Is something wrong?" The Soldier tried to stop pressing the flat of the blade against his groin, wondering if that was overstepping the Shovel's bounds.

/No, nothing's wrong, I just don't want to... end it so soon. I need to be inside you./

There was no way the Soldier could resist orders given in such a tender, sensual voice. "All right," he whispered in terror. He pressed the knob of Shovel's handle against his ass- the dimensions that seemed so comfortable and right in his hand seemed dangerously large now. He took a deep breath-

/No, you impetuous darling,/ the Shovel tittered. /You need lubricant, my dear. I don't want to hurt you./

"I'm not afraid of a little pain," the Soldier growled.

/Yes, but if I hurt you, we won't be able to do it again./

Trying not to show his horror at the idea of being forced to repeat this act, the Soldier picked up a bottle of gun oil.* Wordlessly, he anointed both Shovel's handle and his own ass.

/Relax, relax,/ Shovel sighed to him. /It will be all right, I promise. Go slowly./

The Soldier obeyed; he could do nothing else. He pressed the Shovel's handle against his ass, took a deep breath, and pushed in. The Shovel's constant sweet murmuring helped him to endure the pain, but oh God there was pain. He cried out despite himself.

/There, there,/ the Shovel soothed. /You're making me feel so good. It's worth it, isn't it?/

"Yes-" the Soldier gasped, desperate for more praise. He slid a hand up to caress the special dents in Shovel's blade.

/Oh, God! Just like that!/ Shovel moved inside him, and the pain became perfection. Soldier touched Shovel with one hand, and his own cock with the other, spreading his legs and moaning like an all-American, masculine, military whore.

They moved together for a blissful, eternal, timeless span, Soldier rocking his hips toward Shovel until his lover was buried in him almost up to the haft. He moaned, shuddering, and shot his load on Shovel's blade, his fingers flying over the sensitive dents. As his body tightened around Shovel's shaft, the entrenchment tool climaxed also. When they were done, Soldier sighed tenderly before pulling Shovel out.

"Gonna be sore in the morning," he rumbled.

/Oh, Soldier, that was beautiful. Tell me again that you love me./

"I love you. I'd do anything for you."

/I know,/ the Shovel gloated.

Out in the hall, the Demoman considered gouging out his remaining eye. He knew it would be no use, though. What he just saw- he could not unsee. He went for a gulp of the neuron-dissolving comfort that was Scrumpie, only to find that the bottle had fallen from his nerveless fingers and smashed on the floor.








[*Yes, I know gun oil isn't very good lube. But the Soldier's a MANLY man! He isn't getting any pansy weak maggot Liquid Silk anywhere near his bung. Further author's note: if anyone with Gmod wants to make me a CAN'T UNSEE Demoman icon, I'll be keenly grateful.]