Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It had been raining that day since he opened his eyes. The morning loomed heavy with steel gray clouds, little rivers skidding over scorched earth outside the base.

Miss Pauling had a mission for them, at the sawmill. Scout felt confident about the spot; they fought many a time by the blades guarding the control point.

The BLU team was scrambling at the resupply room. Scout picked his weapons wisely, Force-A-Nature, Pretty Boy's Pocket Pistol, the bat that let him soar higher then ever. Looking around, his eyes met Sniper's. The man gave him a slightly pained smile and Scout nodded as if in a wordless conversation. Sniper's hands polishing his Classic caught his attention. He turned his hot face away.

As Scout was about to get in the starting position, Medic approached him from behind. His heart skipped a beat when he felt a large hand on his shoulder. For a brief moment, he panicked. He mentally talked himself down, it's okay, it's fine, we're with others, he's not gonna do it again.

Shakily, he asked the doctor what's the matter.

"I'm afraid I won't be able to support you in the battle much. I need to focus on keeping Heavy and Engie alive, you know how important that is."

Scout nodded, retreating from Medic to regain his personal space. He took a deep breath as the countdown started.

The team was set in their positions, shaking with excitement—save for Scout, still upset after his encounter with Medic. He rubbed his shoulder and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

The doors opened and they ran into the fray, Scout leading the way. He winced at the downpour and lightning, glad he was ahead of his comrades, showing his pained face to no one. Soon, he split up from the main group to flank the enemy. He cleared his thoughts and put his head in the game.

The final moments of the battle were harrowing. Heavy dropped to the ground in front of his Medic, who could not retreat in time and bled all over the floorboards as his head exploded. Scout swallowed harshly. The moment of relief made his ears burn in shame.

Distracted, Scout missed his shot at the RED scout and crashed against the wall with the sheer force of recoil. Overtime, he heard the Administrator announce.

One of the last teammates in the sawmill was Spy. Dancing his way around the enemies, slashing Heavy with precision like if it wasn't all hopeless. But Spy too had to fall to the butterfly knife of his counterpart, blood spurting over his jacket as he gasped his last breath.

As Scout landed a few pistol shots on the Engineer, he realized his magazine ran out. The enraged Engineer smashed the handle of his shotgun into Scout's face. He staggered to the ground, clutching onto his broken, dripping nose. The man didn't even bother to waste ammo on finishing him off. Half-sitting in a puddle of his own blood, Scout regretted the fight, the day, the rain.

Sniper was the last of their men standing. He was not fast, but the cuts and pushes of his Kukri were well thought-through. He managed to bring Engineer down, which made a smirk tug on Scout's seeping face. With another well-aimed slash, he pierced Spy, and there was this look, in that moment, on his teammate's face, that stirred something in Scout.

Fighting tooth and nail, BLU Sniper managed to kill the Scout, which earned him an appreciative grunt from his team's runner. The rain seemed to die down outside of the wooden walls, and just then, a blade cut Sniper's chest open. The blue of his shirt deepened and he fell to the floorboards with a hollow thud.

As the RED Medic approached him, Scout began to tremble. A flash of the saw was the last thing he's seen.

It was over. It was finally over.

Chapter Text

Rain stuttered against the windows of the infirmary as Scout entered the room. It was oddly cold for a summer day. Medic seemed hard at work, the back of his white coat turned towards the door, extracting organs from a corpse and lining them up on a nearby tray. He didn't seem to notice Scout entering at all.

"Hiya, Doc."

Medic turned around. The deep focus on his face gave way to a grin.

"Scout! So good to see you! What can I do you for?"

"I think I sprained my ankle. Hurts like a bitch." He hobbled towards the doctor, who reached out towards him.

"Oh, give me a minute to clean up this mess," Medic chuckled. "Need to keep my supplies fresh," he remarked, shoving the body parts into a small fridge at random. Scout scrunched his face.

"Here, here."

The cleaning job Medic did on the stretcher wasn't very convincing, but it was neat enough for Scout. He sat at the edge and was surprised to have Medic hoist his leg up onto the gurney himself. The hand slid up his shin for a second, and Scout shook his head to banish an uncomfortable thought.

"Show me where it hurts."

Medic mused over the injured leg and explored the area with a firm hand. There was something unpleasant to being touched. Scout knew full well that the man was here to diagnose and treat, but the gloves on his skin felt oddly intruding on that day.

"I need to get the splint from my office." After a short pause, he turned to Scout. "Come with me."

Scout groaned and rolled his eyes, but obeyed. He staggered into the room, pained, and Medic closed the door after him. Scout heard the key turn in the lock.

"Do we really need that?"

"I'm afraid so, Junge." The doctor gave a smile that surely was meant to be reassuring, but brought no peace to Scout's mind.

"Okay then. Just don't get weird with it."

The room was cramped and dim, paperwork hastily taped to its walls. Scout skimmed the diagrams, not wanting to really know what they refer to. Shelves were crawling with medical tools, half of which seemed more medieval than modern. There was something about the place that made him shiver.

Medic stood silent for a while. "Get on the desk."

"What?"

"You want to feel better or not? I need to get a good look at you first." He seemed to grow impatient.

Scout sighed. "Alrite then, Doc."

The doctor and told Scout to take his pants off and scrambled to retrieve medical items from his numerous cupboards and shelves. He snapped a pair of blue gloves on. Scout was wondering if the rubber smack hurt as he discarded his breeches and sat himself on the desk in nothing but his baby blue shirt and navy boyshorts. The skin on his thighs prickled from the cold. The rain outside grew more urgent, crashing against the small window behind the desk.

"So, what's this… procedure… gonna be about?" Scout toyed with a discarded stethoscope next to him. A vague feeling of unease came over him again.

"Oh, nothing major. There really is nothing to fear." Medic set down a cardboard of various instruments next to the desk. "Put your hands out in front of you."

Medic pulled a set of metal clamps from the box, and before Scout managed to even ask, the man fastened his wrists together.

"Hey! What the hell, man?"

"Don't worry, it's all part of the procedure."

"What fuckin' procedure?" Scout's breathing hastened. "Is this gonna hurt? Real bad? Is that why you're restrainin' me?" His voice was breaking despite his best attempts to steady it.

The doctor hushed him and touched his face in a manner meant to comfort, but Scout flinched away from the touch.

"The fuck is wrong with you? don't—I don't need your help, I'm fine! I'm fine!"

A finger sealed his mouth shut. "I just want to take a closer look." Medic placed a hand on his shoulder, then waist. Scout began to shake.

"What the fuck?!"

He tried to kick, but the doctor locked his knees by standing close to the edge of the desk. A trembling hand traced up Scout's thigh. He began to writhe and struggle, trying to set himself free, but the grasp Medic now had on his hips was relentless and firm.

"Calm down. Nothing is happening. It's okay, it's okay."

"Let me fuckin' go!"

The doctor took a a thick piece of leather into Scout's mouth, pushing it in with his blue rubber fingers and fastening with a bandage.

"That'll calm you down. And," he leaned over the cardboard, "I have one more thing for you."

Scout frantically turned his head left and right. A cold panic began to settle in his stomach.

Holding up a syringe, Medic smirked awkwardly and gave it a couple taps. "That'll help you relax, Schatz. Hold still and it won't hurt," he breathed out, disinfecting and massaging a spot on Scout's arm.

His attempts at escaping grew more desperate as Medic forced his knees open. His whole body was shaking as he revolted against the fingers on his arm. He tried to shout but the pained, muffled sounds he made only brought a realization that he's entirely at doctor's mercy. He screwed his eyes closed.

"You might feel a little prick," the humorous lilt of Medic's voice turned the panic in his stomach into a clawing, steel grip on his entrails. A tear escaped a corner of his eye and he knew then that whatever is to come next will bring about inconceivable pain.

Scout felt nothing when the needle pierced his skin. The drug was effective immediately, making his limbs heavy and his head hazy. Screams got stuck in his throat. Medic caressed his thigh with a gentleness that drove him crazy.

"Gut gemacht," Medic praised.

Scout hated just how reassuring the other glove stroking his hair felt. He gave out a pained, resigned plea of a moan. The doctor delicately patted the side of his face and Scout could not help but lean into the touch.

"Guter Junge. Now, where were we? Ah."

The hand on Scout's leg drew circles on his raised skin. It felt so good to rest his heavy head against Medic's shoulder as the man cradled him close. The glove started moving up towards his hip. For a moment it hesitated and the doctor cleared his throat. It was getting dark outside.

"You know," he chucked nervously, "I've never really… ah, but you don't wanna hear that. You're here for the close examination, and I'm happy to oblige."

Scout's cock twitched as Medic touched it, feather-light. He wanted to scream, he wanted to cry, but his body refused him. He wasn't sure if his shaking was from fear or pleasure. He began to weep into doctor's coat, hearing the man pant, choking on the thick smell of his aftershave.

"You look so… sweet when you're sedated," Medic whispered into his ear. A dry sob got stuck in his chest.

Skilled rubber fingers coaxed Scout to full hardness and wet spot of precome glistened on his shorts. Hot shame flooded his chest and burned at his ears. Just when he thought he might try to ignore the touches, the doctor reached beneath his underwear.

Scout gagged on his gasps and saliva. The hasty pleasure the strokes brought him made him moan around the gag. He tried to turn his head but it hang uselessly as he choked out cries of muffled bliss and ache.

When he spilled into Medic's hand, the man moaned as if feeling his pain too, and something tore at Scout's heart. The agony of his release made him inadvertently bite down on the shoulder he lened on. The sound he heard could as well be of doctor's own climax.

"Fuck… fuck, Scout—," Medic licked his lips, "you're so perfect. So perfect. And I—I can't help but admire."

He rubbed his face against Scout's cheek, and much of the hurt went away for a moment. The doctor sighed into his ear and said shakily, "That's enough preparation. I think you're ready."

Scout whined when the body moved away from him, losing contact, losing comfort. Tears were drying around his eyes, spit dripped down his chin. He prayed that it be over, he wanted it to never end. His breaths came shallow as Medic stepped away and he doubled over forward.

Reaching into the box once more, the doctor didn't catch him in time. Scout's limp body slid off the table and fell to the floor, limbs mangled as his efforts to move them yielded nothing but impotent twitches.

"Scheiße," the doctor swore. "I'm so sorry."

Scout almost believed him as steady arms pulled him back onto the desk, stomach down.

"I'll make it up to you, I promise."

The tenderness of the hands smoothing down his sides, easing at his back, slowed and deepened Scout's breath. Like in a haze, he tried telling himself that it's going to be okay, that the man won't hurt him, that he hasn't hurt him yet. He clung to this thought, knowing there was something sharper underneath he did not want to admit.

As his thoughts picked up the pace, he began to realize the reality of his situation. Whatever Medic injected him with was strong, but short-lasting. As the blunt edge of a scalpel traced over his lower back and promptly slashed at his underwear he detested the return of his consciousness. His arms and legs were still heavy. He was incapacitated and increasingly aware of it.

Rolling his head in the papers on the desk, he began to whine as cold lubricant made contact with his entrance. A dull scream burst from his chest when a finger pushed inside him. Pins and needles pierced his flesh as the first knuckle entered his body. Realizing the girth of Medic's fingers, tears flowed from his eyes again.

"Ssh, I know, I know, it's not the most pleasant to begin with, but soon you will get used to the feeling."

Scout wondered whether he or his assailant were supposed to be reassured by the words. Wet moans tore from his throat when Medic touched some part deep inside him that brought unwanted gratification. An appreciative hum filled his ear, a breath ghosted at his neck.

"Ah, that did sound like I'm doing it right."

The sickly-sweet, syrupy voice poured into his mind. Just as he was getting used to the intruding feeling, another finger dipped into him, bringing the pins and needles again.

"You're doing so good. It won't be long until you're ready… All ready for me."

Scout wanted to thrash, he wanted to shriek, he wanted to fucking die. Short, pitiful sounds died on the gag in his mouth. He didn't even notice when the third finger was inserted, bringing about a flash of pain that still could not rival the mental anguish he was experiencing. It hit him with full force as the fingers retreated that he was going to be raped and nothing could save him now.

In the corner of his eye he saw Medic pepper kisses over his back and shoulders, over his baby blue shirt. The sensation of gloved fingers dancing over the crook of his elbow swelled his heart with bliss. He made his best pleading face and whined pathetically.

"Ah, have you finally come around to enjoy this as much as I do? I can see it in your eyes."

Scout turned his head, first slow, then faster and faster. How could the doctor be this cruel, how could he be this oblivious to his suffering? His words suggested he was sure Scout could not help but love what he was being given.

He forced his eyes shut. He could not stop the thought of how large Medic was and how much he could hurt him chasing his own pleasure. He heard slick sounds and a slap of latex behind him.

He began to sob anew when soft flesh met the ring of muscles. Medic was slow; he was deliberate. He whispered little praises in a language Scout could not understand. All he could understand in that moment was his own suffering, the shame, the lack of control, the violation of the innermost part of himself.

The fullness, the repeated rhythm inside him, the weight of another man on top of him immediately made him hard. He didn't want it to feel this good and he was not ready for it. The fact he not only tolerated, but delighted in the cock thrusting in and out of him, made him ask if he was gay, if he always was. It was so wrong to learn something so significant about his body, and perhaps mind, in such a horrifying, revolting way. He began to repeatedly hit his head against the desk, now sticky from his own saliva.

"Herzblatt, stop this. There is nothing wrong in enjoying anal stimulation. Especially with a caring lover."

Medic softly, but firmly held Scout's head against the desk. His thrusts slowed down and Scout hated himself for how sensual that change felt, how pleasant the stretch became, how much he wanted for the doctor to keep going, for the intrusion never to end. He moaned quietly at the kisses and playful bites Medic was leaving on the back of his neck.

After what felt like an ocean of tears lustful moans, Medic picked up his pace. The sedative was wearing out and he could not deny loving being thoroughly, methodically fucked out, all the while hating every moment of his violation.

The doctor became oddly quiet. His low grunts and whispered praises made Scout almost enjoy it all. There was a twisted kind of relief to knowing that at least he's a good fuck. He panicked at the thought of it all ending so soon. Could he make Medic come? Was he good enough for him?

But he was. A broken moan accompanied Medic's climax and the sticky feeling of come inside him reduced him to begging; no words, just begging through the gag in his mouth. He clenched around the cock and unraveled, painting his own stomach and the desk in white. When that feeling of being forced open ended, it filled him with despair and made him question his own sanity.

The way the doctor caressed him, retreating from his body, made him feel broken like never before. Even after all the man had done to him, Scout couldn't help but react to his touches with delight. He heard the doctor tuck himself in and straighten out his shirt, and then he was sat up on the desk.

"You're the best lover I've ever had," Medic looked him in his eyes, taking the gag out of Scout's mouth and cleaning him off with wet washcloths. "Didn't hurt too much, gell?"

When Scout could finally speak, he couldn't. He didn't even want to. All he wanted was to hear more of these sweet, reassuring, praising German words spoken at him. He fell into doctor's arms. A warm laugh filled the stuffy room as Medic's frame wrapped around him.

"Mein wunderschöner Junge, all baby blue."

It was pouring outside as Scout hooked his fingers into Medic's back. He hated himself for how he felt with Medic. He hated himself thinking of the next time he'll see him. He hated how aroused he still felt. His tears were soaking into the white fabric of Medic's coat as praises and gentle touches made his heart full. He felt the gloved hand on his cock, throbbing with pain.

He closed his eyes. The patter of the rain was near unbearable.

Chapter Text

The harrowing battle laced their minds with bitterness. The accusations flew and soon Scout snaked out of the respawn room, leaving the heated arguments behind.

After taking a shower he was ready to go to bed. It was early, but the images of his comrades being torn apart in front of him, the way they jumped at each other's throats after, plagued his mind and he wasn't sure which visions were worse. Above all, he feared an earlier, still fresh, memory. He recalled the unease when Medic touched his shoulder. His chest tightened.

"Didn't expect seein' you here, mate," Sniper said in a soft voice, stepping forward from behind a bend of the corridor. Scout wasn't the only one to leave the celebrations early.

"Whoa man, spooked me there for a moment." Scout paused, shuffling his feet. "You're turning in early like me?"

"No, not really." Sniper fixed his glasses, eyes unreadable. "Hey, can I talk to you for a second?"

"Sure thing."

" I mean," Sniper cleared his throat, " in private."

An acidic taste filled Scout's mouth. He shook his head, trying to rid the disquieted thoughts, the apprehension in his mind. "I'm real tired, how about we—"

"It's kinda important. I'd really appreciate it, mate."

Scout sighed with a heavy feeling in his stomach. "Lead the way, man."

Scout was under the impression they'll be talking in Sniper's room, or at least some shared leisure area. The place they ended up in was a secluded, industrial looking room, boasting a comfortable couch and a few vintage posters that made the interior surprisingly cozy. Sniper ushered him onto the sofa.

"Well I… I might be reading into this, but you seemed really freaked out when Medic grabbed you there in the respawn room. Is everything okay with you and the Doc?"

Sniper may have been worried, but his expressions were never too distinct. Scout hung his head in thought for a minute. His skin was crawling. He started, rubbing the inside of his elbow.

"We had a bit of a… like, uhh… a disagreement. And I don't really wanna talk about it, man."

" You know I can keep a secret, right?"

"Piss off, man. If all you wanted was to get somethin' on me, then you're shit outta luck, buddy."

"I didn't mean to—look, I was just—yeah well, maybe it's just me, you're right."

Scout waited for a long time in silence, his eyes bore into the man. Sniper slouched and took his glasses off.

"There's something that happened—I've—I meant to keep it to myself, ya see, but it's just… I can't forget no matter how hard I try, how much I drink. It's like it's haunting me, Scout." His eyes were fixed on Scout.

"Jeremy," he dragged a hand towards Scout's and immediately retreated it. "Can you keep a secret too?"

Scout swallowed, wondering if he should hold Sniper's hand or run. "Yeah," he quietly choked out.

Sniper stiffened up, his shoulders began to shake. Scout wrapped the man's hand in his own, ignoring the flinch; maybe his, maybe Sniper's. The Merc stared into him with eyes piercing, pained.

"It wasn't too long ago, a week or so… Who am I kidding, it was nine days to date." Sniper gave a sad smile. "I was alone with Spy, he… you know how he is, constantly drinking. And smoking. so much smoke, mate, you wouldn't believe." He sharply sucked in a breath.

Scout pushed down an intense urge to touch Sniper's face and grasped his hand tighter, putting it on his own thigh. He nodded encouragingly, even though he feared what he might hear next. He clamped down on Sniper's slender fingers as the thought of being gagged and restrained stabbed at him.

"I was drunk, very drunk, can't deny that but—but I remember very fuckin' clearly saying—," Sniper forced his eyes closed, his chest unstill. "Telling him to stop."

Scout dug nails into Sniper's hand, eliciting a gasp. He begun to feel weak with nausea, his breathing hastened, vivid memories of hands exploring his body intruded.

"Sorry man, I'm sorry—"

Sniper turned his arm and the cuff of his blue long-sleeve lifted, revealing scratch marks. Did he… probably just long nails, Scout supposed.

Still, he caressed the red skin of Sniper's wrist. For a glimpse, Sniper blinked back tears, his lips a thin, stretched line.

"I mean… maybe I was askin' for it, I don't know."

Dry throat made it hard for Scout to breathe. Panic settled as he knew where Sniper's story was going. He felt touches all over himself, touches long gone.

"But I didn't… I didn't want it, I knew that, and I know that, and I told him and he just—" Sniper laughed. "That son of a bitch is much heavier than he looks."

Not even Sniper's expectant look made Scout smile. The man awaited a reaction, but one never came. The silence had become sticky and Sniper withdrew, curling up on himself.

"I can't—I can't tell you how that felt—"

Approaching him slowly, Scout cradled his cheek. He ignored the shivering under his palm.

"I know. I know that."

Finally, Sniper turned his face to Scout. "So you and Medic—"

Jeremy said nothing, pulling the man into his arms.He stared in his eyes, full of intention, full of knowing.

And then he kissed him.

It was fortunate as it was ironic, really. Scout's favorite color, red, dripped onto his shirt, blossoming in shades of deep blue and purple. He stared at the bloodied fist in front of him. Sniper turned his chin up with tender fingers.

"Is that good, mate?" The man's voice trembled a little.

"Y-yeah."

Speaking came hard to Scout. He reached to slide his hand across Sniper's thigh, up to the hip.

"You know how to make me feel better." He gave out a smile, hoping it looked less pained than his words sounded. "That's why I keep thinkin' about you, man. Ever since you told me about you and Spy."

Sniper grimaced at the reminder.

"You know," he landed a punch on Scout's stomach, making the Merc near double over, "we could just talk about it sometime, oi?"

"I don't need to talk... Mick."

Scout took a moment to spit blood onto the wooden floor of the base's magazine. His mind threatened to spill at the thought of the talk he's had with Sniper. "I just need it to go away."

"Mhm."

Leaning back, Scout searched the man's face. Was there a faint blush coming over his cheeks? Must have been from the exertion, physical or mental. Still, that reminded him his time with Medic, that time he'd give everything to forget, he'd give everything to repeat. He swallowed hoarsely.

"Do that again?"

A nod came, and then a hook to his jawline, and a kick in his teeth, and a curb-stomp to his chest. Scout writhed and moaned. There was something near-unbearably intimate about it. Unlike in the chaos of the battle, to be this battered, bruised—but close. He swallowed a gulp of his own blood and closed his eyes.

The sound of knuckles against his neck, the boot against his shin and sternum, the dull crush of the knee against his chin overtook his mind, making space for physical pain, physical pleasure. He was safe here. Beaten bloody, he admired the purple and yellow of his own skin, the spatter of red.

He didn't want this to end. He opened his eyes, much as the bruises and blood trickling down his temple allowed him.

Sniper smiled awkwardly and Scout could tell he wasn't the only one who never wanted it to end. He knew if not for the lack of blood, his body would react to the arousal he felt. Sniper had no such ailment. His excitement was unmistakable under the red-stained slacks.

Scout locked eyes with him. Sniper tried to cradle his face, but Scout swatted his wrist away. He turned his cheek, awaiting a slap. He was loving every second of this, aching, his mind blotted out.

"Do that again."