Disclaimer: I own nothing of TF2.
The Engineer was drunk, that was for sure, but damn if he even showed it. The man could hold his liquor better than any of them, and as he sat, calmly relaying information about a certain star that Scout had proclaimed was "really freakin' bright, what the hell", the aforementioned Scout was pretty amazed that he'd already downed a bottle of Jack Daniel's and was working on the next. The other man didn't really care about the star, really, he'd just pointed it out since he rarely looked up at the night sky. "A-huh. Procyon. Real bright. One'a the brightest." An acoustic guitar rested in Engineer's lap, and he strummed idly as Scout wondered how this guy knew so much. The two were up, at first plotting a particular strategy for the match the following morning, but once things had been discussed they'd decided to just sit in repose for a bit. And then the alcohol came out - for Engie, at least, and they'd stayed a little longer.
Scout peered over at him from his chosen spot-to-lay, where he was indeed sprawled out. He felt incredibly lazy, even though they'd been doing a lot of nothing for only about twenty minutes. Sluggishness wasn't the Bostonian's style, of course. "Yo, hardhat, ya gonna share or what?" This made the Engineer pause in the midst of another sip. He already had a nice buzz going on, so sure, why not? Without a word he extended his ungloved hand toward the kid, then returned it to the neck of his guitar. Couldn't remember seeing Scout drink before - he glanced back over at him. And his face. His face said it all. With a slight gag the other man slammed the bottle back on the ground after taking a few fairly vigorous swigs. Wasn't really the type to get smashed, no - he bristled as the Engineer began to laugh at him.
"Hahahah! Thought you were tougher'n that, son."
"Huh?!" Scout exclaimed, pushing himself up. "Screw that, I got bettah things t'do than get wasted, aight?!" Well, someone was defensive. Though it was expected; he could go off at the drop of a hat, and often did - it was great on the battlefield, but pretty off-putting otherwise... for the Texan, at least, who remained tranquil at Scout's outburst. "Sayin' I don't?" he replied, only half-serious, more interested in his guitar at the moment than Scout. Who, in turn, rolled his eyes and turned to face him. "Nah, bro, just... uh. Sayin'." Whatever hostility had surfaced was gone now; Engineer had that effect. Rarely lost his temper, was always collected, and his calm demeanor tended to radiate toward rest of the team. They all had their own deals.
Slightly awkward silence. Engineer began to reach for the bottle and the other man grabbed it, handing it to him. The effects of the alcohol were already starting to slowly seep over Scout, and he leaned back against the lone dispenser accompanying them. Listened to the chords being strummed, short little melodies that were replaced by new ones in seconds. Why hadn't they built a campfire? The night was steadily becoming colder, though nothing extreme, it was enough to make Scout want another layer. His gaze shifted toward Engineer. Like hell he was going to tell him about his plight, just... suggest something. Something not obvious, but still hinting at the discomfort. "Uhh. Ya know how to make fiah, right?" The query was met with a look. "What... you cold?"
Goddammit. 'Kay, well, it could be worse. Scout crossed his arms. "I'unno, it's gettin' kinda dark, and--" "Come on out n' say it, yer cold." "... Yeah yeah, kinda, so what?!"
Smirking slightly at the other man, the Texan merely jiggled the bottle of whiskey. "I don't feel like makin' nothin' right now. Jus' give yerself the illusion of warmth." And he went back to plucking strings ever so languidly.
Why the hell not. If he kept drinking he'd probably have a wicked hangover when he woke up due to his infrequency of the activity, but... more than a little impressionable, at least due to his respect of the Engineer, he scooted closer and seized the bottle. Trying to toss it toward the back of his throat to avoid the tongue. Trying to keep his face steady at the taste anyway. Trying not to act too surprised that some of the heat he was now feeling was coming from the Engineer's leg, which he was apparently leaning against. Just a tad.
The Texan either didn't notice or didn't mind, because he was still playing a little diddy without pause. Scout had frozen entirely, until Engineer's voice floated down toward him, soft and reassuring as ever - "Stop hoggin' the bottle."
His mouth was dry. Handing the whiskey back, which was nearly gone, the other man was entirely aware of the feel of Engineer's worn overalls as his arm slowly dragged across them in that one action. Felt like a slug. A slug underneath a few embers. The other man attempted a swig of the bottle before turning it upside, shrugging, and tossing it off into the darkness. Scout had felt the muscles move in the Texan's leg as he'd done that. Weird how the body's connected like that. That slight twitch alerted him to his ever-sagging position, slowly leaning steeper and closer into the side of Engineer's leg. He jerked himself back upright; the movement was countered with Engineer's hand on his shoulder, pushing him back. Gentle but firm.
Scout resisted. He was sure it was some sort of joke. If he didn't resist the push, and simply went back to how he was, Engineer would laugh. He knew it. Then he'd tell the guys, and everyone would think he was a frickin' homo.
But as much as these typical thoughts gnawed at him, it was getting harder to fight. Not like he was putting up much of one, anyway. Letting his side fall against that sturdy leg, his face following. Pushed into... one of Engineer's knee pads. Hardly comfortable. And there it came - a low chuckle from the Texan. Scout's heart raced. He'd fucked up. Jolted his upper body away, though he felt incredibly slowed by the alcohol. But Engineer didn't begin to mock him, or even continue his mild laughter. He instead rested his guitar against the log he'd been perched upon, and descended to the Bostonian's level.
"Shoulda said somethin' earlier, boy." The Southern twang was a little more pronounced, a little deeper than usual. Scout's mouth was severely lacking in moisture. "... Uhh. Okay." He'd lowered his voice as well, and tensed slightly as Engineer's gloved hand reached over to settle upon his hip. This was different. He wished he could see the other man's eyes through those goggles. Wanted to know where he was looking - maybe at the slight bulge developing in his loose pants.
The other abruptly moved his face forward, as if to kiss the Texan. Terribly cliché. Their lips met awkwardly, neither moving otherwise. As Scout's tongue began to slip out, Engineer broke the contact. Not really into the idea of making out, no. Instead he redirected their play, moving his hand to caress the other's inner thigh, prompting a squirm or two. Scout was enjoying it, yeah - the hand of another was always superior to masturbation, something he'd succumbed to far too often since joining the team. Didn't matter much that it was coming from another man; Scout didn't consider himself anything but straight, but... well, he could blame the alcohol and testosterone. Shifting his hips forward, closer to Engineer, he begged in silence for more.
The Texan was one to start out soft and slow, work his way up to a feral intensity. Keeping his petting on the other man's thigh for a few more moments before he tucked it beneath the waistline and felt around. The kid was popping one, definitely. He gave the hardened shaft a fast stroke, causing Scout to grab tightly at the denim covering his chest. "Aww, man. Ahh." Of course, it didn't take long for him to open his mouth again. "Do it again, will ya... ?" The request was granted, though the pace was kept fairly slow. At least, until Scout began to push at him. The Bostonian, not to be outdone by Engie's boldness, had snaked a bandage-wrapped hand into the side of his overalls and was starting to shove him with the other arm, as if he wanted to get on top of him. A slight scowl, and Engineer suddenly grabbed the kid's shoulders and was trying to force him to the ground.
Scout struggled. He was not about to get dominated. Engineer swung his leg over and straddled him, smirking at his writhing, and the movement, though fierce, was causing them to grind together - and that was good, of course. Very good. A grunt of irritance from Scout as the Texan pinned his arms, using all of his weight; the Boston kid might have been a stringbean compared to the rest of them, but he put up a hell of a fight.
"Jackass!" Scout spat through gritted teeth, straining against his captor. At the same time he felt himself frighteningly close to cumming. Was he really that desperate for some non-self-action? The friction of his groin against Engineer felt ablaze as waves of pleasure radiated from the length of his cock, surging to the rest of his body. A mix of thrashing around in protest to being held down and frenetic thrusting, his desire blatant. The Texan took it in stride, his own erection building up as he watched and felt the man beneath him.
And after he came mere moments later, Scout became aware of how goddamn cold the ground was in comparison to the heat between them. He exhaled heavily, not embarrassed in the least by exploding in his boxers, merely savoring the afterglow - hardly in silence, though. "Holy shit, man, that was freakin'... unbelievable. Jesus!" the other man attempted to wipe a bit of sweat from his forehead, only to realize that his wrists were still nailed to the dirt by Engineer's grasp.
"What the hell? What gives?!" he demanded, beginning to flail again. The grinding which had felt so good earlier was now almost painful, irritating the hypersensitivity of his recently-drained manhood. All he got in response was that devious little Engineer-smirk, and then the man spoke quietly, his words dripping out like honey laced with vodka. "Not gettin' up till you return the favor, boy." A pause. "... 'Kay, whaddaya want me t'do? Can y'atleast lemme go, hardhat? Ya cuttin' off the blood to my hands!" Scout rambled, still glaring. He talked too damn much, the Texan decided. Time to shut that mouth up.
Engineer freed the small wrists from his grip, carefully unbuttoning his overalls. As careful as one could be when snapping a piece of metal away from another piece of metal, anyway. Scout removed his hat briefly to cool down, his short hair slightly curled from the moisture of sweat. Barely paid any attention as Engineer let the straps of his overalls fall, revealing plaid boxers, before he grabbed the other man around the throat.
"--ACK!" came the response, along with violent writhing, like a trapped animal. The Texan yanked him forward, at the same time moving off of his body - pulling him toward the hardon that had been raging in the midst of Scout's experience. Unlike the twitchy, overeager baseball fan that he'd just gotten off, Engineer was a far more patient one, and much less accepting of stimulus. Continuing to force Scout's face down onto his yet-uncovered boner, rubbing it in, he found himself amused by the muffled sounds of protest coming from the other man. Engineer humped his face slowly, rhythmically, until Scout took a hint and frantically tugged at the hem of his boxers. The Bostonian just wanted to get it over with. The dick that sprung out wasn't incredible in terms of length, but it made up for that with its girth. Scout gave the pulsing flesh a blank stare before the Texan pushed it up against his closed mouth, smearing a thick glob of precum across his lips. Making a face, but raising a hand to start jerking the shaft, the other man wiped the mess off in annoyance before giving the reddened head a few short, hard licks. "'Ey, ya better not jizz on my face, 'kay? That'd be freakin' nast--ghhh-!"
Seeing an opportunity once Scout's mouth had opened, Engineer had pulled it a bit wider with his thumb and thrusted inward, groaning quietly at the feel of the wet warmth. Scout's tongue squirmed about, trying to rid the mouth of this intruder, while the man himself was trying to avoid letting his teeth scrape the sensitive skin. Likely the most uncomfortable thing he'd experienced in recent years, the broad manhood continued to slide back and forth over his tongue, nearly triggering the gag reflex as the Texan became more intense with his movements. Scout could feel the other man's nuts start to tighten up, draw closer to his body. And he realized he was barely doing anything anymore, simply crouching awkwardly as the Engineer fucked his mouth.
He was being used. Too late to bitch about it at this point, Engineer was nearly past the point of no return. Pace quickening, thrusts becoming more violent, Scout was barely allowed any time to take a lucky gasp of air before a boiling stream of semen began to pour down his throat, leaving him no choice but to swallow - he gagged loudly, the Texan's final jab choking him; he spluttered for air, clawing at the Engineer's hips. Scout was held that way a few more excruciatingly slow seconds before Engineer let go, sinking back onto the log with a satisfied sigh.
"God damn! Ya coulda let go way soona than that, ya know?!" came the Boston-accented whining, as Scout coughed and hacked from the cum deposit. "That was some freakin' sick crap, man, the hell's wrong with you?!" Engineer began to pull his overalls back up, not even glancing at the other man. When he spoke, it was that same old calm, Southern drawl. "I don't wanna remember this tomorrow, hear me, son? Don't go runnin' yer big mouth about it."
"Pfft, like I wanna," came the reply, and Scout resumed lying on the ground, reclining as if that little escapade hadn't just happened. They were gonna need some more alcohol to pass this one over.