1 Name: Anonymous : 2009-03-03 12:44 [Del]
He knew he was bleeding - He could feel the hot liquid trickling down his stomach, making his belly on the right side stick unpleasantly to the rubber body suit. Not to mention the pain; dulled by shock probably, but every few seconds jolting through him the way a shotgun blast is supposed to hurt.
Damn it. He would have to take care of this, and soon; before his staggered cringes and inability to lift his flamethrower above his waist turned into an inability to stay alive.
"MMHDHH!!" He shouted, vaguely irritated by the fact that he was losing the strength to watch the opposing teammates burn and yell as they tried to run for their bases. He smiled, always happy to be helping his team. Then he winced, and nearly doubled over shuddering with pain.
"MMHHDHHH!!" He tried again, more urgently this time, his left hand clutching at his right side. The thick rubber of his glove covered the barely noticeably tear in his suit where he'd been shot, but he could feel the pressure and insulation on the wound beneath. Every moment that he stood waiting for his Medic to arrive the blood flowing down his body gained another few inches, which meant he was probably losing it faster than he could stomach. Where was that Doctor?
He was halfway through his third Medic call when he heard a scream around a corner, followed by the not-quite-rushing-to-your-aide footsteps made by high laced leather boots. Then he saw him - White coat stained with dirt and blood, but still a sharp contrast to everything else around him; In one gloved hand he held his favourite metal implement, shining, jagged and streaked with red. Hunched over like the Pyro was, the Medic looked even more tall and upright than usual.
The doctor arrived in front of the Pyro, looking irritated and bored with the whole situation; he didn't even look down at him until Pyro made a noise - a low sort of whining growl that seemed to catch the Medic's attention. Pyro turned his gas mask upwards to find the Doctor looking him over, the first traces of a smirk on his lips. Pyro took a deep breath, shuddering at the pain it caused him to do even that.
"Hhmph Mhh.."
The Medic almost chuckled. Almost. He put his bonesaw away, shaking the majority of the blood off of it beforehand. Then he grabbed Pyro's hand, the one tight over his wounded side, and pulled him to his feet again, quite painfully. Pyro yelled. Medic ignored him, keeping tight hold on Pyro's arm as he observed the situation.
"Youah Bleeding in zeah, ahhn't you.." Medic yanked the pyro closer to him, his feet lost for footing in the shuffle forward. Pyro made another noise. "Qvite a lot actually..Mm-hmm.." He dropped his arm, just when Pyro was getting used to having his grip for support; he stumbled back into his cringe, the pain definitely getting worse now that he had someone else telling him how badly he was hurt. Pyro groaned, clutching at his side again, the blood against the rubber inside his suit made him feel sticky and nauseaus.
"Ja, ve'll have to deal vith zis..elsevheah."
Three minutes later Pyro was sitting on the questionably clean sheets of one of the dingy little beds reserved for the injured and dying of their team. He felt lightheaded from the ordeal of staggering back to base, but now the Doctor could fix him right up and get him back out onto the front lines; despite the pain, this made the Pyro happy. His flamethrower was making an impression on the mattress next to him; he kept one hand on it lovingly and the other across his abdomen, clutching his injured side.
The Medic was washing his hands, or rather his gloves, under some very hot water - there was steam billowing up from the sink and the Pyro watched it dissipate a couple feet out around the doctor, framing his turned back in a warm mist. The idea of the hot water made Pyro feel better. He closed his eyes and thought of the nice, hot shower that he would take later, after this mess was sorted out.
He heard the water stop running and opened his eyes. The Medic dried his gloves on a raggy towel that hung next to the sink and turned his attention to an open case of what Pyro assumed to be medical instruments, because he couldn't imagine the Medic looking at anything else.
A sudden stab of pain shot through him, forcing an alarmingly sharp noise from the pyro that filled the room like a firecracker. The Medic turned around and watched the rubber-clad figure shuddering in his agony, a smile spreading on his face.
"My my, vhat a state you've gotten youhself into.." He clicked his tongue in disapproval, clasping his hands behind his back and taking two deliberate steps closer to his patient. Pyro groaned and looked at the palm of his glove, where he could see something thick and shining against the black rubber. He realized he was shaking. He looked up at the Doctor, his trembling hand still held out in front of him like he was unsure of what to do with it in this condition.
"Mmmhphhm mmhhmph?" He hoped the Medic didn't notice his voice crack. The Doctor was still smiling down at him, but Pyro was in too much pain to find this as unsettling as it should have been. The Doctor finally broke contact and turned his back on his patient once again, going back to his array of medical toys, but Pyro could still hear the smirk under his words when he spoke.
"You'll be fine. Ve just have to do some zhings to you fuhst.." Pyro heard something that sounded sharp and cold clink against something that sounded even worse, "Do some poking ahround in zeah.." Saw something very precise shine as it was moved onto the table with another clink, "Zhen ve get to put you back togezah.." Felt his fingers twist around the bedsheets beside him, in compulsive reaction to the pain he was feeling now, and the promise of the pain he was going to be feeling shortly. "And zhen you can go out and get youhself shot and ve can do it all ovah again, ja?" The Medic turned around, grinning crooked and looking unnaturally excited about something. "Strip."
For a moment, the Pyro was instinctively cooperative; He nodded slowly and prepared himself for his treatment. Then the last word Medic had spoken sunk in.
"Mmhph!?" He visibly recoiled, his hands grabbing protectively at the collar of his suit and his bleeding side.
"Mmnhh Mphh MphMMHH!? Mmh mmphmm mmmhphhmm?!" This exertion of outrage and disbelief did not bode well with his wound. A hot gush of blood flowed out of his body, and he suddenly felt like he was being torn apart from the inside. He groaned and held himself tighter, squeezing his eyes shut and feeling them water, though the doctor could not have noticed.
"Ja, dummpkopf." Pyro looked up, his eyes flicking over the upsettingly calm doctor frantically, and he realized that Medic was holding a scalpel. He held it delicately between his right thumb and first two fingers, toying with it idly while he waited for his patient to finish panicking. He was still smiling. "Ve need to cut zhat nasty bit of lead out of you, fix you up again.. You expect me to do zhat zhrough all zhat rubber..?"
The pyro thought for a second, then nodded uncertainly, like the question was a trap.
"Hnn. Zhink again, schätzchen. Take it off."
"...Nph."
Medic was on the verge of grinning again. He stepped closer to the bed, leaning down so that his face was level with Pyro's gas mask, his hands clasped behind his back. He spoke low, but the Pyro could hear every word clearly.
"I'll just let you bleed zhen, hmm? Let you wrizhe and scream and bleed as youah body stahts to die, ze pain vill get vorse and vorse, and you'll vish I had just killed you out zheah vhen I found you. Don't vorry, I'll be vatching ze whole time, and it vill take a very long time, but at least you'll have a doctah to keep you company vhile you slowly and qvuite painfully bleed to deazh."
Pyro didn't move; he was thoroughly terrified, first by the idea of taking his clothes off, now by the Medic's graphic decription of the alternative. Oh god, what was he going to do? He was breathing heavily, his injury pounding out little waves of agony every few moments that made the situation even more difficult to deal with.
The Medic was still very close, still grinning, watching his patient very closely in his trapped contemplation. He knew how this was all going to turn out; the Pyro would eventually cooperate with whatever he told him was for his own good, would gladly agree to anything the doctor needed from him, willingly obey any command..All he had to do now was convince the Pyro of this inevitability.
He stood upright again, bringing the scalpel out in front of him and fondling it in his gloved fingers, thinking about something that his expression said Pyro didn't want to know about. Medic looked at him, then back at his blade. Then he looked him up and down. Pyro felt something was going very wrong with this procedure, and it hadn't even begun yet; he was uneasy, anxious..there was something he was missing here, something that he wasn't sure he wanted in on.
He was about to say something about feeling much better and not needing any surgery after all thanks anyway, when the Medic brought his leg up and kneed him in the chest, forcing the already injured Pyro onto his back where the Medic wasted no time crawling on top of him, the scalpel in his teeth as he pinned down his arms above his head, one knee between his legs, leaving the attacking leg grounded on the floor behind him.
Shock and panic flooded the Pyro, the attack so sudden he barely had time to handle the jolt of pain from his wound, blended now with his aching sternum and the distincly unpleasent sensation between his legs, before he could even think to struggle. Even then, he was already being held firmly in place by the Medic and his body was in too much distress to put up an effective fight; He yelled, outraged and panicked and hurting...
The Medic brought his right leg up onto the bed and pinned down the Pyro's arm with his knee, freeing up his hand to take the scalpel from his mouth. His smile was terrifying.
"Youahh being qvuite ze difficult patient, ahhn't you mein little fiahstahtah.." Pyro squirmed and whined beneath him, his muffled complaints and weak thrashings doing nothing for his condition; but they were quite fun to watch, hear, feel...Pyro watched in horror as the Doctor lowered the scalpel to the rubber just above where his clavicles met beneath it, the blade slicing into the resilient material after a few seconds of experimentation with applied pressure.
Pyro went still and quiet, but the Medic could feel his chest rising and falling rapidly as he dragged the razor edge down the front of the thick body suit, never taking his eyes off of the line of pale white skin the seam was revealing. He felt the Pyro twitch repeatedly during the process and realized with a twisted smile that he had cut too deep in several places down his torso; there were thin red marks, bleeding even as the Medic watched them, tracing a perforated line down his front where the rubber had been cut aside.
Medic was getting excited, short of breath. He set the steel instrument down on the Pyro's chest accross one of the neat little cuts he'd made, feeling the patient's body jerk at the cold metal, and peeled aside the folds of thick rubber that he'd loosened.
Pale, hot skin, the Pyro's bleeding flesh, smeared with the blood from his battle wound, painted all over his right side, streaks of shining wet crimson against the white...it was all layed out for him, so lovely...He ran a gloved finger down the lacerations, slowly, feeling the sting through the Pyro's periodic little spasms of pain, giggling to himself when he heard his small subsequent yelps.
"Nh-hnn...vhat a mess you ahh...." Pyro's chest was rising and falling rapidly; he was so scared he'd forgotten to struggle. Medic could hear his laboured breathing through the gas mask, which he'd chosen to leave on him for dignity's sake. He smeared the blood around Pyro's chest with the tips of his fingers, ignoring a burst of frantic protest from his patient and running his hand slowly down his chest to his belly, leaving a trail of streaking red behind.
He hooked his fingers under the lower part of Pyro's bodysuit that still clung to his hips and below, where Medic's blade hadn't yet had the chance to explore. He sneered, tugging on the rubber, stretching it and letting it snap back on Pyro's belly with an amusing flinch from the body beneath him. He slid his hand through the blood back up to the source of Pyro's medical desperation, running a finger delicately around the inflamed perimeter of the bleeding hole.
"Nein, nein, zis von't do.." Pyro was straining against the weight holding him to the stiff mattress, lifting his head up to watch the Medic playing with his vital fluids, spreading the sticky hot mess all over his bare skin.
Oh god his /skin/..he was being /touched/..the Doctor was /looking/ and /touching/ and /feeling/ and he could /feel/ him doing it; There was nothing to stop him from doing it - his only protection had been sliced from his body, peeled away, as if it were no more than clothing..He was exposed, vulnerable, and he was trapped.
The Doctor still had his gloves on; he was granting him that small consolation. The impersonal latex barrier between their two skins was preserved, keeping flesh from touching flesh, even if his fingers felt close enough to make his head spin. Or maybe that was the blood, all the blood that should have been inside of him but instead was smeared over him, dripping from him, leaking from that burning little hole in his side and those fresh little slices down his front. Pyro put his head back down on the mattress.
Medic was staring into the wound, smiling, watching Pyro's heart pulse out little waves of blood that kept his patient's right side coated in shining red. The viscous liquid was beginning to pool at his solar plexus, in the lovely concave area just between either half of his ribcage; Medic was fond of that area, and the things that happened a person when you applied enough /pressure/..
His finger was still encircling the damaged tissue, barely avoiding the mangled cavity that housed the bullet still inside the Pyro's body, bleeding him from the inside. He carefully leaned more of his weight into holding the Pyro down, securing his position beneath him further in preparation for the intense writhing and screaming that he was about to have to control.
He grinned - then he forced two of his fingers into the bleeding chasm. Pyro screamed, he screamed and arched his back and squeezed his hands into fists and every muscle in his body was tense with blinding pain, pain that made his vision white out and his flesh burn, and he screamed. The Medic had been in and out of him, taking the bullet with him, in only a second, but the Pyro kept screaming.
He writhed and twisted under the Doctor, not struggling against him but trying to escape the pain, the horrible searing, ripping pain that possessed his entire body. His agony flowed out of him in a high muffled cry that made his throat hoarse, his body shake, and he just kept screaming until he felt light-headed and his lungs were out of air - and then, he didn't breath; he suspended himself in breathless dizzy-ness until he could barely feel the pain anymore, his mind and his body and his miserable reality slipping away from him........
When he finally took a deep, ragged breath and opened his eyes, jolting himself away from his temporary state of unbeing, he found that the pain had subsided back to sharp stabs and dull pulses, and it was okay to stop screaming. He had tears stinging his eyes and making his face wet behind the smoked glass, behind the mask of black rubber that kept him safe, but that was okay in this kind of situation, he thought.
Medic was watching the man beneath him gradually come out of his brief little hell, smiling curiously at the diminuendo of his noises and physical distresses. He took the opportunity to shift his position so that he was sitting on the dazed Pyro's thighs, freeing up both of his hands and releasing his patient's, though he suspected that he was too disoriented to do much with his newfound freedom. This was exactly why he felt that could let him go. He noticed the slight tilt of the Pyro's gas mask in his direction, so he grinned: an expression that on anyone /else/ might have been comforting.
"See? Zat vasn't so bad, vas it.." He held up his right hand, blood coating and dripping from the rubber glove, something dark and shining between his fingers. The bullet. Medic held his hand over the side of the bed and let the lead slip from his fingers, the Pyro's heart skipping as he watched and heard it drop onto the dirty tile floor.
He almost tried getting up, wanting to chase after the tiny piece of destruction that had caused him so much suffering and discomfort, had been /inside/ him, just to have a look at it, get to know it as it had known him; but the moment passed, and he lay back down and sighed. The worst was over; he felt himself smile, and smiled more because of it. This Doctor was /good/.
"Mmmmhh, Mphh Mmh Mmmphmmh..."
"Nh-hnn, don't get too excited, mein liebe, veah not finished yet.."
The scalpel had fallen onto the bed during Pyro's bout of screaming agony. Medic smiled and picked it up again, bringing it down to Pyro's belly and carefully slicing through the rest of his patient's clothing, cutting the rubber from the pale hips beneath him, then down his thighs, one at a time, taking care not to break the skin this time; he didn't want the poor boy panicking again so soon.
Pyro made a worried noise, which quickly turned to alarm when the Medic ignored him. He was far too preoccupied to heed the futile cries of his patient. He peeled the fireproof material away, devouring the sight of what had been so selfishly concealed beneath that thick bodysuit - white, flawless skin, protected and sheltered so thoroughly from the harsh elements of the battlefield. His physical attributes were actually quite average, but this did not disappoint the Doctor in the least.
There was a mess of half-dried, sticky blood that had leaked from Pyro's wound down his side, his hips, his thigh, smearing against his flesh under the rubber; some of it had even dripped its way through the small patch of hair down to his dormant cock, leaving a thin dried stream of red along the top nearly to the head. The whole sight left the Doctor's mouth watering, his mind lingering in shamelessly dark places - it was too beautiful to let go to waste.
What was he doing?! The Pyro tried propping himself up on his elbows to make sure the procedure was being kept strictly medical, but he found himself shaking and unable to support his own weight. His fell back onto the mattress, staring in bewildered terror as the Medic's hands joined his eyes on his exposed skin, his gloved fingers pressing against his waist, sliding through the blood to his hips, down along his thighs; he looked.../hungry/. Uh oh.
"Mmnhphmm mmphhmh mmhphmphhmmh?!" He tried covering himself back up with the torn edges of his mutilated bodysuit, but the Medic was quick to grab his wrists and remove his hands from the situation, yanking them up and pinning them down on either side of his head again. He leaned over him, his face close to Pyro's gas mask, staring into the smoked glass with his smirking blue eyes, and Pyro was staring right back at him, his eyes wide and terrified; with the Doctor so close he felt like he was looking right at him, that he could /see/ him, and he didn't like that feeling at all.
"Youah not going /anyvheah/ in zat sorry condition.." Medic sneered, backing away from Pyro's face and tightening his grip around his wrists. "Youah mein patient.." He was growling his words low, through teeth bared in a sick grin. "/Mein/...and I'm going to make you feel all bettah..."
He gave Pyro's wrists a harsh squeeze and threw them from his grasp, directing his hands towards more interesting parts of his patient's anatomy, the parts he was going to have fun /playing/ with.. He ran his thumbs along the protrusion of the Pyro's hip bones, keeping his hands pressed tight against the skin, his fingers digging in to the meat of his sides, then his thighs, his gloves picking up some of the blood along the way and leaving big streaks of clean flesh flecked with spots of dried blood.
The Medic chuckled darkly to himself; apparently something was funny, but the Pyro failed to see the humour, and he was too paralyzed with fear and the dull, everpresent pain in his side to try stopping him again. He determined that the most beneficial course of action would be to /not do anything/. So he just layed there, his chest rising and falling in quick shallow breaths, flinching every few seconds either because of the pain or the awkward, unfamiliar physical contact, which was making him feel the worst kind of uncomfortable he could think of.
Unfortunately, this method wasn't working either, because a moment later the Doctor, his hands covered in latex and blood, ran two fingers down the top of Pyro's flaccid penis, and Pyro felt his body jerk violently alert.
"MMMPHH-?!" He sat up before he knew what he was doing, got dizzy, and collapsed again after a second, so completely shocked and outraged he didn't know what to do with himself. He grunted with the effort of raising his head and grabbed onto the Medic's arm in a weak attempt to let him know that he was not at all comfortable with where the situation was headed. Medic's face twisted into a wide, dangerous grin, and he did it /again/.
Pyro's body jerked. Then his thumb joined the action, stroking him slowly underneath at the same time, and he did it /again/ and /again/ and /again/...
"NHH! Mmhh Mmphh! Mmmphhmmnh Mhhnhh...Nhhh...."
Pyro felt things /happening/ to him, and he was mildly alarmed that he could do nothing to control it; His breathing became heavier, his muscles were trying to be tense but at the same time he felt like he was melting. He felt his eyes slip half-closed, his thoughts of violent shock blurring into thoughts of something much more dangerous, fatal because he wasn't stopping himself from thinking them. He groaned, forgetting his injury, forgetting his discomfort, unable to think of anything but the /feeling/ of those big rubber gloves on his...Oh god...
Medic felt Pyro's cock harden in his hands as he held it and stroked it, deeply pleased with the cooperative reaction. Pyro was moaning without reserve for his dignity, bucking his pelvis up into the Medic's care as if he hadn't been trying to shove him off less than a minute ago. He was already completely helpless, totally lost to his body's carnal urges, and the Medic had barely even begun.
"Hnn, I see youah enjoying youahself." His fingers never stopped their slow, steady rhythm, the pressure he was applying almost gentle to the point of teasing, but the Pyro didn't mind at all. Even when he felt what blood he had left rush to his face at the Doctor's painfully accurate observation, he was so flooded with lust that all he could think of to say in response was a muffled "Mmm-hm...." Oh yeah, he was in trouble.
Medic snickered and rewarded Pyro's dazed confession with a good squeeze of his most sensitive parts, inducing another one of those sweet, low moans from his patient. He leaned down over him, bringing his face closer to Pyro's gas mask, and he noticed with deepening amusement that the glass was slightly fogged up. He slid his left hand up Pyro's chest, taking care to let the friction linger for just a moment longer on his nipple, trailing his fingers along the bloodied flesh, along his collarbone, over his throat just below where the rubber ended.
"You must vant zis /badly/ schatz.." He brought his face even closer, touching his nose to the thick rubber and staring into the foggy, black glass as he spoke, "How long has it been since somevone has /touched/ you.." He accented his words with perfectly applied pressure and speed, precisely executed accompaniments to the filthy tone of the voice behind them, "oah maybe.." He glanced down at the Pyro's crimson-streaked skin, carefully backing away from his face so that he could get a more perceptive view, "..zis vill be youah /fihst experience/..hmm?"
Pyro groaned, unable to bring himself to respond to the painfully accurate suggestion. Admittedly, he had occasionally indulged himself in this kind of behaviour, late nights spent beneath his sheets with only his gloves and his mask (he felt so /naked/ without them..), but never had it been so gratifying as the Doctor's latex-clad fingers felt on him at this moment, despite his aching side and severe, dizzying blood loss. He bucked his hips up into the doctor's hand, his fingers twisting into the sheets at his sides.
The Doctor could feel the flesh beneath him radiating heat like a living furnace as he leaned down over him, bringing his open lips to the bloodied flesh. He grinned and extended his tongue, licking him up his torso and leaving a trail of clean white skin and saliva where his tongue had picked up the blood. Then he licked him again, cleaning him up all the way up from his belly, over his ribs, carefully avoiding the gaping, gushing wound that was so accessibly placed right in front of him.
He dragged his wet tongue through the blood, relishing the coppery, salty taste in his mouth. Oh, how he /enjoyed/ that thick flavour.. The teasing rhythm of his fingers grew erratic and rough with his excitement, making the Pyro twitch and moan quite appealingly. Medic licked his lips, giggling to himself unsettlingly, a string of drool falling from his lips onto Pyro's sticky flesh below.
"Nhnn..nhahahahah..you vant /moah/..?"
Pyro's body responded eagerly before his brain had the chance to interfere, nodding his head vigorously and jerking his pelvis up against the Doctor's hand without a moment's rational thought or hesitation. Medic chuckled to himself and gladly obliged, tightening his grip and letting his fingers take over more of the sensitive organ in his grasp. Pyro had been keeping his eyes closed tight, trying to avoid facing the reality of the unwanted situation he found himself enjoying so thoroughly. He was having much more fun than he wanted to admit, especially not to himself, but his body was doing a fine job of giving him away.
When he did open his eyes it was to the traumatizing image of the Medic hunched over him, possessive, biting his lip and /staring/, looking right at him, watching him, starved and ruthless fascination in his eyes as he observed every move the Pyro made, every little twitch or gasp or moan he coerced so graciously out of the man under his expert care, his beloved and endearingly helpless patient.
"Hnn...you /need/ zis, d-don't you.." There was no way to interpret it as a question. "You need to /feel/ me, don't you s-schatzchen..." Medic was speaking low and shaky, more to himself just to hear himself speak the words, his eyes half-closed and his hand doing whatever it pleased with Pyro's most delicate parts, letting his mind wander to those dark places he kept hidden away for himself, imagining new purpose behind all of that writhing and noise beneath him, keeping his mind on all that /blood/..; his thoughts were getting the better of him.
Pyro was lost in himself, completely enveloped by the sensations flowing through his depraved body, the overwhelming pleasure counterpointed by the sting of his shattered side, which seemed so insignificant in comparison to the focus of his physical attention /now/. He did have to admit that this was much better than bleeding to death. It flashed briefly in the back of his dizzy mind that he might be jumping the gun in that respect, but this unpleasant thought was quickly washed over by the realization that Medic was no longer wearing pants.
The Doctor had somehow gotten the intricate workings of his belt, buttons and zipper undone at some point, with his left hand, without the Pyro noticing a pause in the increasingly unbearable treatment of his desperate physical condition. Well, he noticed now, and he might have done something about this alarming new twist on the situation, but unfortunately his starved cock was willing to let the Doctor get away with anything at this point as long as he kept doing /that/..
Medic lifted his weight off of the Pyro's thighs and settled to his left, suddenly taking his hands away from his dick to accommodate as he dug his fingers into his patient's hip and maneuvered him onto his broken side, ignoring the burst of pained protest that resulted from this move. Pyro did not like this new position! It put pressure on his bleeding injury, and now his only distraction from that pain had been taken from him as well without warning. He whined, but then the Medic giggled behind him and he felt a sharp sting as that familiar, precise razor tore haphazardly though the rubber covering his backside, and through some of the flesh beneath it.
Medic peeled away the remaining pieces of Pyro's trashed bodysuit, exposing the lower back and butt beneath it, grinning enormously though the Pyro couldn't see his expression. There was a jagged red line, bleeding a deeper crimson even as he watched it, in the near center of Pyro's lower back, the careless mishap presenting such a magnificent contrast against the pale skin. Pyro was struggling to roll back onto his back, making quite a fuss in the process, but Medic's grip on him was more than enough to keep him in place.
Grinning madly, the Doctor squirmed out of his tented boxers and swung his leg over the Pyro, once again positioning himself above him, but this time from an entirely new perspective. Pyro felt a gloved hand press down on the fresh laceration in his back, forcing him belly-down against the bed sheet, his cock pushed against himself between the sheets and his stomach uncomfortably, the strain easing only somewhat on his bullet wound.
Medic knelt above him, behind him, one hand firmly holding the struggling Pyro to the sheets while the other...oh no, what was he doing? What was he doing with his other hand!? The gas-masked patient went still when he heard the Doctor laugh, echoing through the empty medical office, the sound dark and dangerous, quiet though it was. Pyro's heart was pounding in his chest, his breath short and fast again, listening, dreading, /waiting/.
"..I'm going to /enjoy/ zis, mein liebe..." He heard the words, nearly whispered, repeating themselves in his head as if they had been screamed at him. Then he /felt/. He felt the slightly increased pressure on his back, holding him down in case he struggled too much; felt the slick end of something he could picture all too well pressing against him, dividing the crease between his ass cheeks and threatening to try and do something he had only ever considered in the privacy of his head. His muscles were all tensed, making it difficult, he knew, for the Medic to continue.
There were only a few extended seconds of poised suspension, both waiting for the other to make the next move, then the Medic got impatient. Pyro's world exploded, again, in a fashion similar to the extraction of the bullet, his head spinning and his body overwhelmed by the invasive and painful forces of the Medic's work, his eyes squeezed shut and his muscles spasming, tensing further, his breath halting and his heart racing. Then Medic did something that quite differentiated the two experiences, pushing himself in /deeper/, then pulling himself back out almost entirely again, then pushing in even /deeper/, slowly, deliberately, /making/ the Pyro feel it.
After a few repetitions of this harsh practice, Pyro realized that it was all he could do to keep the pained sounds of protest he was making from coming out.../dirty/. It wasn't long before the rest of his body began to betray him as well, his pelvis involuntarily jerking back into the Medic's steadily increasing rhythm of thrusts into his body, his breathing heavy and fast, his muffled moans into the bed sheet getting louder every time the Doctor stuffed himself back into him again, and this pattern only seemed to be intensifying.
Medic was grinning uncontrollably, his eyes half closed in his own rapture, immersing himself in the feeling of Pyro's tight body around his cock, pushing himself in over and over, completely focused on the job in front of him, trying to stuff himself in deeper every second, always wanting to feel /more/.. He drank up the Pyro's little noises, delighting at the sounds he made because of his Doctor; He wanted to hear more, he wanted to make him /scream/.
He leaned over him, sliding his rubber-clad hands down Pyro's sides, digging his fingers into his hips and pulling him into his thrusts, lowering his voice and growling through the bared, uneven teeth of his manic grin, "Zat's not /good/ enough, Schveinhund, you'll have to do /bettah/ if you vant to /impress/ me..." He was squeezing hard, hard enough to leave some painful marks on the man's body, a lovely addition to his already fractured condition. He would have some explaining to do if his patient left him in worse condition than he arrived..
But nobody questions a Professional. Medic reached a hand around the Pyro's abdomen between the mattress and his sticky, hot skin, having no trouble finding what he was looking for with his fingers. Of course Pyro's dick was still hard, Medic knew what it took to ensure that, but there was no point in overstimulating the man on his first experience. The sounds, oh those beautiful sounds, escalated when the Doctor's hand found Pyro's bleeding, pulsing bullet hole. Pyro gasped, and felt the Medic's cock twitch inside of him when he screamed at the pain of feeling a finger being forced into his body where there should have been no access point.
Pyro yelled and writhed, but then the Medic pushed himself into him again and Pyro's scream turned /dirty/ again. Medic quite liked this little contrast, and he especially enjoyed the fact that he could incur both physical reactions simultaneously in his little test subject, simply by pushing /here/ - more pain, another scream - and then /here/ - ahh, pleasure, another moan. They were both adequately suited to his needs.
Pyro was having trouble thinking. First there was pain, then the Doctor gave him pleasure, and now it seemed like he couldn't make up his mind between the two. Why was he doing this to him? Pyro's head was spinning, his body aching, secreting all manner of fluids all over the sheets and the Medic's hands. And it /hurt/, it /burned/ when he pushed his way inside of him like that! But ohh, it felt so very, very /good/ when he pushed his way inside of him like /that/.. Did he have to do them at the same time?! It was making him sound like he was enjoying this, and the Medic would never let him go if he found out how much he /was/..
Too bad the Doctor had already caught on. He intensified his thrusts, keeping up with his own carnal urges for more, clutching at the nasty battle wound in his patient's right side, letting him bleed into his palm, the hot, crimson liquid dripping steadily from his hand onto the bed. His left hand was keeping a firm hold of Pyro's hip, tugging him back up into his irratic penetrations; Pyro could feel hot panting on the skin of his lower back as the Medic lened over him possesively, squeezing him where he could to induce screaming or moaning as he pressed further and deeper in his convoluted rhythm.
"Having /fun/, mein little fiahstahtah...?" Medic growled over him, panting and letting the words melt over his patient. The Pyro didn't feel capable of responding coherently, feeling overwhelmed with sensations and more lightheaded than he thought was healthy, so he just shook himself in a pathetic effort to reply. "Hnn-hnn, don't lie to youah Doctah, Scatzchen, I can cleahly see how much you ahh /loving/ zis.."
Oh and he /was/. Pyro was loving every second that the Doctor's cock was inside of him, that hot rush of pleasure that flowed through him every time he fucked him, every time he felt himself being violated again and again, even those sharp bursts of pain Medic was causing him were beginning to blend with the pleasure and feel /good/.. But it was getting hard to breathe and harder to concentrate, and Pyro was starting to feel like he was drowning.
He heard the Medic growling something else over his body, shoving himself into him harder every minute, felt himself getting that tingly, warm, fuzzy feeling that he got when he knew he was close. He moaned into the bedsheets and saw through the smoked glass of his gas mask that they were red. That's funny. He coughed and tasted blood; his vision blurred. He swore those sheets were white when he came in earlier.
With a sick sort of sudden nausea, Pyro realized that he was laying, being /fucked/ by the /Medic/, in a growing pool of his own blood. Oh god../oh god/..and he was /still/ being fucked, and it only seemed to be getting better every second he lie here bleeding. He was just feeling better and better and worse and worse, every sensation in his abused body was trying to tell him something different. His head was spinning and his eyes fell shut, he was drifting away in a pool of his own blood, and the Medic was still /inside/ of him and talking to him. His whole world was spinning but he just needed a little more, just a little more because he was so /close/..so...close.....so......
***
It was dark.
He heard...something. Somebody else was here. But why was it so dark? OUCH.
"Mnhhhh....." Everything ached, bad, and all of his appendages felt heavy and weighted down, like he was sinking. He realized he could open his eyes, and everything blurred into focus around him. He was looking at a ceiling. He tried to sit up but his body didn't like that at all so he fell right back down onto the bed, groaning in pain.
"I see somevone's finally avake." Pyro turned his head to the source of the noise and saw his team's Medic standing over the bed, apparently watching him fade back into consciousness. His flamethrower was leaning against the wall next to his bed, safe and sound. He wanted to speak, but his throat was very, very dry. He tried clearing it, and ended up coughing, which hurt him again.
"Mph...mmh mmphmm?" His voice came out weak and hoarse, but at least he could still talk. The Medic was stoic and staring down at him, his hands clasped behind his back. He looked away nonchalantly when he spoke, like he was only still standing there because he was obligated to by his profession.
"You got shot and passed out." The Doctor gave him a sideways glance to see his reaction. "You lost qvuite a lot of blood, you know. Do you remember?" Pyro moved his gloved hand carefully over his torso, feeling the slight resistance of bandages wrapped all around his mid section. There were sleeves of rubber clinging to his arms and legs, pieces of it hanging off of him everywhere else. Everything hurt.
He remembered getting shot, and then struggling back to Base, and the Medic- OH. That Medic had climbed on top of him and cut his clothes off. Pyro ran his hand down the center of his front, feeling the vague sting of a line of shallow scalpel lacerations. And then he'd ripped the bullet out of him, that had hurt a /lot/. But then...then the Medic hadn't let him go, had he? He had wanted to keep him, play with him a little longer than he should have, ohhh, the Pyro remembered /that/ alright. He smiled behind his mask and looked up at the Doctor.
"...mhhphm...?" Medic looked at him, his expression blank if not bored.
"You need to rest, and I have bettah zhings to do zhan babysit a broken Pyro." As if that was a suitable end to a conversation, the Medic turned on his heel and made for the door, ignoring the muffled attempt to keep him in the room. Pyro was alone, on what he noticed, as he became more alert, to be clean sheets. Had he imagined the whole thing? Just the delirious, agony-inspired fantasy of an unconscious patient? Maybe, but he swore he saw the shadow of a smirk on the Doctor's lips as he left.
He was smiling as he laid his head back down on the pillow and closed his eyes. He wiggled his fingers, then his toes, happy that everything was still functional after that nasty run-in with the shotgun. He thought of something suddenly very important and opened his eyes, slowly turning and leaning over the side of his little bed, moving in a way to cause minimal pain. He reached an arm underneath the frame and put his hand to the floor, carefully moving his fingers over the tiles in search of something..
Ahh, there it was. He closed his hand around the small, heavy object and carefully rolled himself onto his back again. He held the object between his fingers in front of him, admiring its scarred metallic structure. This tiny little bullet had caused all that trouble...he giggled to himself; and all that /other stuff/, too.
Pyro sighed and shut his eyes again, closing his hand tight around the little souvenir. He followed the Doctor's orders and let himself drift off to sleep.
