>>51 coming right up! ------------------------------------- A FIRST TIME FOR EVERYTHING It was no secret that the Ãœbercharge felt good. Who could dislike the sensation of invincibility? It poured through the body, synchronising the heartbeat to its pulse, refreshing laboured breathing with great draughts of power. What most people didn't realise was that this happened to both parties- both the person being charged, and the Medic holding the Medigun. Even the Medic himself didn't realise this at first. He figured it out one day, in the heat of battle, when he had unleashed the Ãœbercharge on the Heavy. The huge man had laughed in the joy of mayhem, and the Medic had begun to laugh also, the minigun booming in his ears. He and the Heavy were howling out the same laugh, gasping together, until the charge was over and the battlefield was empty. The Heavy looked back at him, their eyes meeting in a moment of perfect understanding. Unfortunately, two enemy Soldiers who the Heavy had levelled earlier chose that moment to rush out of respawn. They herded the Medic and Heavy apart, then killed them both. It somewhat spoilt the moment. As soon as they respawned, though, something was different between them. The Medic knew that the Ãœbercharge must set his heart in time with the Soldier, the Demoman, or anyone else he charged, but it was different when he charged the Heavy. After a while, he became convinced that it wasn't just their pulses that became synchronised. The German would swear that he could feel each motion of the Russian's muscles, each bead of sweat that trickled over the big man's skin. When the charge was on, they were united in a way that the Medic had always considered the sole province of frivolous novels. The Medic did not know what to do about this knowledge. He caught himself staring at the Heavy between battles, sometimes savouring the memory of being so attuned. He tried not to, but he knew that the Heavy had caught him at it, more than once. The Heavy responded with narrowed eyes the first time, but grinned ever more broadly each successive time. The Medic tried to keep his head clear on the field of battle, tried to be reason out the right moment to use the bonesaw and not the Medigun, tried to assess which teammate it would be most advantageous to charge. He kept finding himself drawn to train his Medigun on the Heavy, though, to enjoy a few more seconds in perfect unison with the giant man. On this particular day, the teams had been locked in battle for the Granary control points since just after dawn. Team RED now had four out of the five control points, and the Medic and the Heavy were advancing on the BLU's last stand, inside a dusty, echoing building. The Medic healed the damage that the Heavy had sustained helping to capture the other points, keeping his eyes on his heads-up display. The meter on the Ãœbercharge was filling, filling, so near- the Medic's heart thundered. Would they make it to the point in time? Would the charge be ready by the time they made it to the point? The Heavy's uneven progress over the broken ground was nervewracking. A little closer, a little faster, please, the Medic urged silently. A bullet whistled through the air- the BLU Sniper was up on the balcony while the badly-bleeding Demoman held down the point. The Medic had been expecting the shot on some level, and ducked behind the Heavy. The bullet still caught him painfully across the shoulder. Snarling a curse, the Medic gripped the Medigun until his knuckles went white. He kept the beam focused, kept healing the Heavy even as the minigun roared to life, scouring the balconies. The BLUs threw everything they had left at the Heavy. A stickybomb landed at the Russian's feet, but he strode over it. The Medic saw it in his peripheral vision for a split second, envisioned the cold gleam in the enemy Demoman's eye as he thumbed the detonator- and then the Ãœbercharge was ready. Screaming hoarsely in German, the Medic deployed the charge even as the bomb blew. He was thrown away from the Heavy, but the beam held. The pulsing aura of invincibility surrounded them, washing away their fatigue and throbbing with their shared heartbeat. Laughing with victory, the Heavy mowed down their opponents and thundered to the point. The Medic joined him there just as the Ãœbercharge expired and the Announcer proclaimed their triumph. The fanfare seemed muted to the Medic's ears, though, as he crashed against the Heavy. He wasn't sure which of them had seized the other first, who had begun the kiss, but their hearts were still pounding in synch as they clutched each other. Their teeth clashed, the Medic's glasses were knocked askew, the Heavy's giant hands seemed to be everywhere at once. They stumbled together, kissing and groping, until the Medic was pinned against the rusted side of a metal shipping container. The Heavy moaned as he tore open the Medic's coat. The German heard a button clatter to the ground, and went rigid in the Heavy's arms. "What is it?" The Heavy raised his head and looked around. "Is no-one there. Is no worry-" "Nein!" The Medic struggled. "Ich kann nicht-" In his rising panic, he did not notice how gently the Heavy let him go. Instead, he broke away and legged it for the RED base. By the time he arrived back at the base, the Medic had regained some little composure. The Scout did his best to shatter it. "Hey, Doc! You an' the Russki lunchbox did it! Why'ya runnin' like yer ass is on fire?" "I... thought I heard someone call..." the Medic stuttered. "Just because the area is secured, is no reason to shirk my duty." "No-one called," the Spy pointed out archly as he lit a cigarette. "However, since you are here, please attend to my leg." He was bleeding where a bullet had grazed him. The Medic managed to avoid the Heavy for the rest of the afternoon by treating his teammates' wounds very thoroughly, and writing out detailed reports of his treatments. He even avoided the mess hall by ordering the Scout to bring him a tray. However, when he retreated to his quarters for the night, the Heavy came to him. "Doktor," the Russian said as he let himself in, "why did you run?" With the huge man blocking the room's only door, the Medic felt trapped. His weapons were all in readiness; and he would not hesitate to use them. Even on a teammate, even on someone whose heartbeat he had shared just hours before. His hand inched toward his bonesaw. "Doktor, Doktor..." the Heavy held up his hands and stepped away from the door, allowing it to swing shut behind him. "What is?" "I- " the Medic swallowed hard. "I cannot do the thing you vish." "... what does little Doktor think I want?" The Heavy's broad face showed a mixture of confusion, worry and amusement. "I can tell from kissing, you are not do it often." "I." The Medic pulled in on himself. "I, never." "Kissing man? Is not so different to kissing woman, da?" "Not vomen," the Medic struggled to regain his cool composure. "Not anyone." The Heavy barked with surprised laughter, even as the Medic froze over like a lake in Siberia. "So sorry, is not to laugh." The Heavy reined himself in. "Is just, Scout will be writer, when he grows up. If he grows up," the Russian amended, seeing the German's expression. "What... do you mean?" The ice on the lake was creaking dangerously. "He tells stories. The Nazi Medic, lady prisoner of war, lady spy," the large man gestured vaguely. "... the sex-torture-games." "Disgusting," snapped the Medic. "And... I vas never a member of the Party." "So wrong about us," the Heavy smiled sadly. "I was never in the Communist Party, either. If I was, would not be in American wasteland now." "Is that truly what they think of me?" "You are man of ice. No-one knows what you have done." "I have done... nothing." "But why? Handsome man, strong, smart." The Heavy thumped the Medic's shoulder. "I have never desired," the Medic replied. "I think you desire against the side of crate, da?" the Heavy teased gently. "The Medigun... changes things." "Feels good," the Russian shrugged. "Not so good." "I would not know what it feels like to receive. But to fire- it is amazing." The Heavy eyed the healing cannon speculatively. "Doktor... may I?" He gestured toward the gun. The Medic looked slightly shocked, but considered the offer. "I suppose. Vhy not?" He lifted the cannon and passed it to the Heavy. "The operation is simple. The beam is deployed by depressing the handle. This is the fuel meter, this is the Ãœbercharge indicator." "Fuel is full," the Heavy remarked happily as the device powered up. "Of course. I recharge it after each battle." "Smart, very smart. Scout, I know, does not always do this. I see tiny man run around base before battle, grabbing bullets here and there." The Heavy hefted the Medigun's arm, leaving the tank on the floor. "Look at me." The Medic turned to face the Heavy. Cradling the Medigun in one massive hand, the Russian pressed the lever with two fingers. The red beam leapt forth, caressing the Medic. He had bandaged the stinging wound on his shoulder, but it healed instantly under the soothing rays, leaving nothing but a warm tingle. The effect of the beam was relaxing yet energising, a tantalising hint of the feeling of an Ãœbercharge. The Heavy grinned, watching the Medic bask in the red light. "Is good?" The Medic's life had been largely barren of sensual pleasures, and the feeling of being overhealed was unique. He felt powerful, brave, ready for anything. This slow build was different from the sudden wash of invincibility that accompanied the Ãœbercharge. He couldn't feel the Heavy's heartbeat, not yet, but he felt a full-body urge toward the other man. His lips and fingertips burned with the need for contact. Constrained by the stiff fabric of his clothing, his nipples and the tip of his penis tingled. The Medic moaned softly. "Da, Doktor," the Heavy panted. Staying at arm's length so as not to interrupt the beam, the Medic took off his gloves and reached toward the Heavy. He touched the large man's fingertips on the Medigun's handle, the bare skin revealed by the back of the Russian's fingerless gloves. He caressed the Heavy's bare forearm, then noticed a blinking light on the cannon. "The charge, mein Heavy. It is ready. Press the button to deploy it." He could not keep his voice steady. The Heavy pressed the button, surrounding the Medic and himself in a fiery corona. With no enemies attacking them, no bombs bouncing off them, the Medic could explore the effects of the Ãœbercharge. He stroked the Heavy's arm, watching how the halo rippled, breathing in time with the big man. Their heartbeats thundered together, deafening him to all other sounds. The instant the charge ended, the Medic lunged at the Heavy. He kissed him, pawed at him, ground against him and growled in frustration. "Da, da," the Heavy laughed, "but like this." He put a gentle hand on the Medic's jaw. "Close the mouth mostly, let the lips slide apart..." he guided the German into a more skilled kiss. "Everyone can learn something, da?" "You think I am a fool, that I do not already know." "I did not say this. But, is more fun than Medigun, lasts longer than Ãœbercharge." "You vould say that, it is not your veapon of choice. Is it more fun than Sasha?" In the absence of the Ãœbercharge, the Medic was torn between fear and an unusual giddiness. The huge man made a see-saw gesture. "Maybe, maybe. Is not so hard on back." The Medic laughed, trying to fend off his rising nervousness. "Perhaps, then, I should learn this skill." "Da," the Heavy smiled, rubbing the Medic's back. "First lesson, be naked." He tugged at the German's white coat, still missing its buttons. The Medic stiffened again. This was logical, a known aspect of sexual activity, but..."Nein-" "What is?" The Heavy ceased his pawing to kiss the Medic again. "You have seen naked man before. Is Doktor, part of job!" "I have never been naked as vell." "What, is no banya in Germany? Is why you are all so cold!" The Russian thumped the Medic's shoulder lightly. "You take off my clothing, I take off yours. No hurry, da?" He kissed the Medic again. "Ja," the German agreed finally. He put a hand on the Heavy's chest. It proved much easier for the Heavy to strip the Medic than vice-versa. The big man's fingers were surprisingly deft when it came to undoing the Medic's tie and remaining buttons, but all the Medic managed to do was to wruck the Heavy's vest and shirt up over his giant shoulders. The Heavy chuckled as he extracted himself, and stripped away both of their shirts. The Medic had seen the Heavy's bare chest before, it wasn't as though he didn't know what to expect- but this time, the bare flesh stood in relation to his own. He had always been privileged to touch, but now the Heavy could touch him in return. It was almost entirely unique in his experience. He forced himself to reach out first, to at least be the one initiating the encounter. The Heavy's skin was warm, amazingly soft, and he had hardly any chest hair. The Russian ran his own hands over the Medic's hairy chest, eliciting a gasp when his thumb brushed a nipple. He laughed again- he was always quick to laugh, the Medic reflected, trying not to take it personally- and bent to lick the sensitive nub. This was unbearable. The Medic groaned involuntarily, thrusting his hips toward the Heavy without thinking. The big man took this as an invitation, seizing the Medic around the waist and pawing him firmly. Breathing harshly, the Medic suppressed the urge to shove the Heavy away. He couldn't seem to control his limbs- his fingers and toes curled spasmodically as the Heavy pressed against him. "You are allowed to hug back, Doktor," the Russian pointed out. "I, ah!" The Medic clutched the Heavy as the large man resumed his tongue-bath. "Are you planning to eat me?" "Yes!" The Heavy's grin was lewd, predatory, and very enthusiastic. The Medic was embarrassed by the sound of his own whimpering as the Heavy undid his belt and fly. His breathing was rapid, out of control. As the Heavy kissed a line from his mouth to his collarbone, the Medic began to tremble. By the time the Heavy had reached his navel, the shivering had gone from erotic nervousness to convulsive shudders. "Sh, shh, little Doktor. What is wrong? I will not REALLY eat you!" The Heavy looked up at the other man. The Medic's eyes were terror-wide, his face ashen. The Russian moved up on the bed to sit beside the German again. "What is problem?" "I do not know. I just... cannot." The Medic hung his head. His hair was askew, his forehead bathed in cold sweat. "Sh, Doktor. You were happy before, da?" The Heavy rubbed the Medic's back, then wrapped an arm around him, their bare skin touching. They sat like that for a while, until the Medic's shuddering ceased. "Is all right?" The Medic didn't reply. The Heavy stroked his back again, thinking. Suddenly, he leapt up, grabbing his shirt. "Wait here!" He pushed the Medic firmly onto the bed and tucked the scratchy wool blanket around him. Struggling into his shirt, the Heavy bolted into the hall. Lying dazed on his own bed, the Medic wondered what the Heavy could possibly be doing. Had he gone to get vodka? The German was aware that intoxication was the traditional way to lose one's virginity, but being pawed while nauseated seemed even less appealing than what he had already been doing. Had the Heavy gone to seek some more obscure folk remedy or Bolshevik marital aid? When the Heavy reappeared with a roll of duct tape, the Medic nearly went into hysterics. "Vhat on Earth is that for?!" he hissed from under his blanket. He was so busy staring in terror at the industrial tape that he didn't even see the small tube that the Heavy set on the nightstand. "For Medigun!" the Heavy's smile was bright and broad. "I borrow from Engineer!" "Vhy tell the Engineer vhat ve are doing?!" The Medic was aghast. The Heavy boomed with laughter. "Poor Doktor! I did not tell! Just asked, pretty please, for tape." He peeled off a long strip, then pushed the lever of the Medigun. As soon as he had gotten the soothing red beam locked onto the Medic, he taped the handle in position and balanced the cannon on its side on the Medic's chair. "Now you relax, da?" Slowly, as the Heavy settled beside him without interrupting the beam, the Medic did relax. The big man's hands were warm and steady. "... Ja." "We go into battle together every day. We make good team." The Heavy kissed the Medic's ear. "This is good. Have fun." "I... will try," the Medic promised. "I take off pants first," the Heavy offered. "Just like in Doktor's office." The Heavy stripped off his shirt, then performed the contortions necessary for a large man to take off his pants and boots while already sitting down. "Bare, da? Harmless." "You scarcely look harmless," the Medic joked nervously, gesturing down to the Heavy's erection. "Pah, tiny thing," the Heavy waved dismissively. "No danger to man who laugh at bullets." He touched the freshly-healed skin on the Medic's shoulder. The Medic took a deep breath, and looked at the Heavy's smile. "I suppose it is not fair that I am still wearing trousers." "It is not," the Heavy agreed. "I help." He tugged off the Medic's boots, briefly massaging each foot before stripping off the socks as well. Enjoying both the Heavy's sure hands, the Medic cooperated in getting rid of his trousers and boxers. Naked together, it wasn't as bad as he had feared. The Medigun was keeping him warm, and his teammate seemed sincere in his willingness to move gently. The big man kissed the Medic's knee, and looked into his eyes. "I try again." "I, also." The Medic lay back as the Heavy kissed up along his thigh. It was strange, lying in the beam of his own Medigun, watching his teammate's bald head and broad back between his own legs. The tingling gathering in his extremities again reminded the Medic that it might not be all bad. That was the last coherent thought the Medic had before the Heavy's mouth engulfed him. As safe and strong as the Medigun's dry warmth made him feel, this wet warmth made him feel helpless, ecstatic. He writhed and moaned, feeling his orgasm mere instants away. "Shhh Doktor," the Heavy soothed again, for an entirely new reason. He lifted his head from the Medic's lap. "Slow, slow." The Heavy resumed licking and sucking, carefully, pausing every few seconds. The Medic felt as though he were melting into the other man. Nothing he had felt before, not even the Ãœbercharge, could compare to the feeling of the Heavy's mouth on his cock, on his thigh, the huge hands massaging his balls, his nipples, his ass. The Medic cried out again in surprise, as one of the Heavy's fingers slipped between his buttocks. "Vas-" he moaned. "Is good, Doktor. You will like." The Heavy reached over to the nightstand and retrieved the lubricant that he had brought from the Medic's own office. Thoroughly coating one large finger, he slid it down the Medic's cock, over his balls, back down toward his ass. "Breathe, Doktor, you need air." The Medic did as he was told, mind dissolving in the strange pleasures that the Heavy was providing. The Heavy did not press in with his fingers. Instead, he teased the sensitive skin, much as his tongue was teasing the head of the Medic's cock. He seemed to be waiting for the Medic to come to him; it wasn't long before the German was bucking and writhing in search of more sensation. Moving slowly, the huge man coaxed his new lover into taking his own pleasure. The Medic was certain he would go insane with this pleasure. He was deep in the Heavy's mouth, the Heavy's finger was deep inside him- it had stretched and stung going in, but some deep urge had kept him pressing down and suddenly the sensation was perfect. The barest motion of the Heavy's finger across that tight muscle reverberated through his entire body, in perfect harmony with the vibrations as the Heavy moaned around his cock. Unable to wait a moment longer, with the Heavy finally willing to comply and continue, the Medic reached his climax. The warm, wet perfection of the Heavy's mouth upon him only increased as the big man swallowed, and the sensation of his own body tightening around that huge finger brought the orgasm cresting beyond anything the Medic had ever known. Screaming and pleading in German, the Medic bucked down onto the Heavy's finger. Even as his orgasm ebbed away, the gentle waves of pleasure continued in the aftershocks. The Heavy was still moving his hand, gently stirring the sensations without touching the Medic's cock any more. The Medic lay spread-eagle and sweaty on his own bed, the Heavy's warm cheek against his thigh as he let his eyes slide closed. "Mm, Doktor," the Heavy moaned, shifting until he was kneeling between the Medic's knees. "Bitte, don't stop, bitte," the Medic sighed. "No worry!" The Heavy used his free hand to spread the Medic's legs wider. It was fine. Whatever the Heavy did now was fine, as long as he kept pressing that finger deep inside, coaxing out these new, more gentle waves of pleasure. The Heavy's hand disappeared for a moment, came back to stroke the Medic's face, disappeared again, and was suddenly supporting the Medic's ass. What wasn't fine was when the big man withdrew his finger. The Medic groaned in protest, hoping to coax the Heavy to continue. He groaned again in pleasure when the finger was replaced. This sensation was new, rougher, and the Medic felt vaguely that it was building in tempo. His eyes slid open, and he realised that the Heavy was... was fucking him. The larger man was going slowly, guiding his cock as gently as he had moved his finger, but the flush on his face and chest suggested he could not suppress his pace forever. The realisation hit the Medic like a flash of fire. What he had avoided for so long, what he had feared and craved, it was happening. He was in his own bed, under the beam of his own Medigun, in the arms of his most trusted teammate, and it was perfect. He gasped, breathing in a great draught of the Heavy's soapy scent and his own musk. "I hurt you, Doktor?" the Heavy paused mid-thrust. "Nein, nein, ich-" the Medic struggled to formulate a coherent sentence. "Oh, don't stop!" was all he could manage, wrapping his legs around the Heavy's waist. The Heavy moaned and began to move faster. The pleasure that the Medic felt was building- his cock was only barely plumping again, nowhere near a full erection. The motion of the Heavy, on top of him, inside him, was the pleasure in itself. The Medic moved with him, opened for him, kissed him when he offered his mouth. The shock of tasting his own semen on the other man's lips sent a shudder through the Medic. His body tightened, but when that made the Heavy move more frantically, it proved to be worth it. The Medic wrapped around him, arms and legs, wanting to be closer, wanting more. Something was still missing. Letting his head fall back, the Medic glanced around the room. The Medigun was still pumping out its healing rays- and the Ãœbercharge meter was blinking. Gasping in pleasure and inspiration, the Medic sat up slightly under his Heavy. The Heavy moved with him, chasing him, thrusting to stay inside him, as the Medic stretched out his arm to deploy the charge. The halo of red fire blazed around them, joining their heartbeats, removing the ignored aches that had been building in the Medic's thighs and the Heavy's back. The Heavy made one final thrust, slamming deep into the Medic's body, and roared as the orgasm rushed through him. The Medic roared as well, their heartbeats synchronising perfectly with the throb of the Heavy's orgasm and the waves of the Medic's own pleasure. When the Ãœbercharge faded, they were left looking at each other, blue eyes locked together, heartbeats slowing in unison. "I see you have a thing to teach me, too, Doktor," the Heavy said as he collapsed on the bed beside his lover.