[Warnings!
Medic/Scout-smut! Graphic. Scout-abuse, non-consensual smut (to put it mildly).
Do NOT read if you don't like to read stuff like this. Seriously, I don't write this warnings because I'm bored, if you prefer fluff and/or dislike homosexual pairings, this is not for you. :)
Do NOT read if you are okay with my other stories but dislike the naughty parts. This one-shot is gay and dirty and mean and should never have been written in the first place ^^
Oh, translations at the bottom ^^]
Two Worlds
Another explosion tore the wooden planks under his feet apart. The deafening sound of the detonation echoed in his ear and for a moment all he could hear was a shrill whistle in his head. He reacted, threw his body around and tossed the suitcase as far away as he could, to the spot where he expected the Soldier to be, hidden behind a curtain of sand and smoke. Gravity pulled him down and sharp edges and splinters cut through his flesh, down to the bone, when he crashed through the remains of the collapsed bridge. The whistling noise grew louder and drowned his own scream.
With a start, he woke up.
"Zhis is not good for your body, Scout, vhen you sleep zhat long every day," an indifferent voice said and passed by.
Slowly, the Scout opened his eyes, only to close them again. Cold sweat ran down from his forehead and a few drops had reached his eyes. Burning. He tried to lift his right hand, to wipe it away, but his arm felt heavy and didn't move. The same with his left hand. He wanted to sit up, but something held him back. Frantically, he thrashed from one side to the other. The blanket slid away, revealing the naked upper half of his body; and a leather belt running across his chest.
"Fuck!"
A hand touched his shoulder and pressed him down. A needle was jammed under the skin of the crook of his arm and he yelled for help.
"Do ve have to go zhrough zhis every time you vake up, Scout? Vizhout you making such a fuss zhe restraints vouldn't be necessary. Now calm down, breazhe regularly."
Scout stopped thrashing while listening to the annoyed words. He blinked a few times and finally, his vision became clearer.
"Doctor... Pfeifer?" he croaked, staring at the tall figure.
"Zhink again, boy, you mistake me for someone else."
The Scout's heart sunk when he remembered. So he was still in the hospital wing of the team's base, in the care of the Medic. Now shivering, he closed his eyes again. Like always, his leg hurt, but he would soon forget about the pain. He had got used to the strange, tingling sensation in his blood stream, but he would never stop fearing the consequences. The Medic had explained it to him. The wound after his fall. The infection. A fever he had caught and what it did to his body. Scout hadn't grasped all of it - he only understood that first his cheeks would flush, his body tremble, his crotch hurt with need and he would have to ask the Medic for help. He hated the way the German enjoyed to be begged, he hated his touches. The smell of the man alone made him sick, but sooner or later Scout would have to give in, only to hate the Medic and himself a bit more. And other dreams would follow.
"Is zhere somezhing you need, Scout?"
There it was again, the mockery in his voice. The youth didn't have to look at the tall man's face – the wide, smug grin, the glinting eyes. His mind had memorised it too well the first day he had awaked and learned about his strange sickness. He inhaled deeply, the Medic's advice to calm slowly had only worked for a moment. Once the panic attack died down, blood rushed into his face, coloring it a feverish red - he could feel it. His back hurt, he hadn't left the bed since the accident. Despite the restraining straps he shifted his weight, a movement he regretted the next second. It had only taken the blink of an eye, but it was enough – the friction caused by the sleek fabric of the blanked against the sensitive skin of his cock forced a low groan from his lips. Of course the weak, desperate yet yearning sound didn't escape the Medic's ears and he repeated his question.
"Is zhere somezhing you need, Scout?"
"Can't ya just give me somethin'?"
This time, there wasn't even a no and the next thing the Scout heard was the Medic coming closer while he opened his pants. His eyes still closed, the young man turned his head to the other direction.
"I don't want ya fuckin' dick, bastard," he hissed, a weak attempt to sound confident and defiant, but as he had feared the German wasn't fooled, certainly not impressed. A strong, gloved hand grasped him by his hair and turned his head around, effortlessly.
"Ve made a deal, didn't we, Scout? And don't you dare biting me again."
He wouldn't dare. Not after the first and the last time, there was no need to remind him every time.
"I hate ya." The last, angry word was already muffled and the Medic's hard, long cock filled his mouth, shoved deeper inch by inch, only stopping when the Scout began to gag. Focusing his thoughts on what had happened during their last battle, the boy began to suck, using his tongue and taking care not to touch the long shaft with his teeth more than necessary. The quicker he worked, the sooner this was over. He shivered, bucked his hips, when the Medic placed his free hand on the Scout's bare stomach. The smooth surface of the latex gloves felt cold against his skin and he wished the hand would reach deeper already. He tried to drown the Medic's pleasured groans with the sounds of the last battle's detonations from his memory, but it didn't work. The feeling of disgust increased and the pictures of his memory shattered, filling his mind with the reality. The salty taste on his tongue, the aching of his jaws, the smell and the voice of this hateful man became too much. His throat tightened and he started to cough, forgetting to breathe through his nose. Arms and legs trying to hit and kick against the bounds in vain, another wave of panic rose in him. The still hard cock was withdrawn from his mouth and Scout gasped for air.
"Dummkopf," the Medic scolded, obviously annoyed and impatient with the youth.
"Shut... up... asshole..." His insults ended with another moan. Again he had made the mistake of moving in his state, and the cover was still touching his own erected member. No matter what happened or what he tried to think of, nothing seemed to suppress his need. Nothing but release, by the hands of the Medic. The whole time, Scout had kept his eyes shut, even now when he felt how the belt was loosened, and the restraint of his left leg removed. He lifted his free leg, but it was pushed down firmly.
"It's your injured leg. If you kick or anyzhing, you risk to... hurt yourself, do you understand me, Scout?" The threatening tone made him shudder. He wouldn't try something, not now. With his still useless arms he needed the Medic's help, that was all he could think of. His mind focused on his groin, the throbbing pain that became worse, even without the touch of a blanket or a hand.
Lying still, he waited.
Something touched him between his legs, then his buttocks.
"DON'T!" he yelped when a cold, slick finger pressed against his entrance and glided inside. Scout tensed up, and another finger joined, both moving easily as a generous amount of lube was spread. As a reflex, his body refused to be stretched and the muscle became tighter instead of loose. It wasn't so much the pain than the sudden pressure, and the feeling of humiliation, being touched in this way, and for the moment Scout even forgot his desire for release.
"Zhis is your fault for not finishing earlier," the Medic stated. "Is our little Scout a virgin?"
The mocking chuckle, the merciless fingers still inside. His eyes now wide open, staring at the smug, grinning face, the Scout suddenly understood what was about to happen.
"NO!" He tossed and turned, his free leg kicking at the Medic. His back stiffened and he screamed when the free hand seized the thrashing limb with ease, digging the tips of the fingers deep into the sewed wound. He screamed again, yelling an inarticulate cry for help.
"Scout. Vhy? Do you not remember vhat happened zhe first day, vhen you bit me?" With a sigh, the German pushed the leg down while he quickly withdrew his fingers from the boy's trembling body.
Scout hissed, the removal was too abruptly, and the realization to feel oddly empty left him being grossed out by himself.
The Medic had turned away and he could hear him rummaging through one of his shelves. The man's back blocked his sight. But with the immediate feeling of being violated and humiliated his urge to fight vanished as well, only to be replaced by the previous arousal. Those sudden changes of emotions left him exhausted. He knew the Medic would be back with him in a minute and then he wouldn't care anymore. To know what the doctor was about to do with his body scared him, but it didn't matter. He would hold still and, when it was over and his own tension was gone, he could sleep again. The fever became stronger.
Scout lifted his gaze when the German stood by his head.
"Open your mouzh," Medic ordered, but although Scout knew that the man wouldn't accept defiance he clenched his teeth together, shaking his head. Not this thing again.
The Medic seized him firmly by his chin, pressing his thumb and forefinger against the joints of his jaw. His face was close to Scout's now and the boy could see an angry sparkle in the man's eyes.
Reluctantly, giving in to the pressure and the unspoken threat to make things even worse, he followed the Medic's order, swallowing hard when the metallic device was pushed between his teeth and fastened around his head. The dental gag prevented him from clothing his mouth, leaving him unable to speak or scream. He reminded himself to breathe through his nose or he would cough again. Satisfied with his work, the Medic nodded and focused on the boy's hips once more.
After he had lubricated his hand for the second time this evening he continued stretching the Scout's entrance, his fingers almost mechanically working against the tightness.
The youth tried to cry out again when a third finger entered, but all he could utter was a gargle, and he swallowed quickly as more and more saliva filled his half opened mouth.
Only a short moment later his lower body was turned to the side, now resting on the edge of the bed. When the Medic finally wrapped his hand around the youth's hard dick Scout groaned gratefully, even when his free leg was lifted in the air. The Medic didn't try to be gentle or careful when he shoved his cock into the boy's ass, and a guttural growl of displeasure came from the boy's throat. He couldn't swallow fast enough this time, and spittle dripped from the corner of his mouth into his pillow.
Scout didn't care. He panted heavily, clenching his fists, the leather straps already scraping his wrists. The pressure was too much and he expected something, a bone, a muscle or a tendon – whatever his lower region might be constructed of – to snap. The Medic's hips remained still, his one hand around the ankle or the boy's free leg, holding it up. Scout could feel the man's gaze on his bare, trembling form. On his face, his opened mouth as he instinctively tried to free himself from the gag with his tongue. His lithe body squirmed, but the straps and the hands kept him steady. Only his hips could move a bit, just enough to shove his cock into the Medic's hand.
Scout moaned hoarsely, pulling back from the grip so he could push again. He squirmed when he felt the other man's dick thrust inside forcefully, suddenly realizing that it was his own fault. A chuckle mixed with a groan - of course the Medic had noticed that the boy finally understood.
Pleadingly, Scout looked at him, but the German grinned and shook his head.
With his throbbing cock still aching for release, the youth finally gave up. He buried his face in his now wet pillow and thrust into the Medic's hand, and pulled back, allowing the other man in. The pressure was still strong and painful, but he didn't have a choice. His hips now moving as frantically as possible, he fucked the Medic's dick. Despite the disgust and hate he felt his brain quickly accepted the pain as a part of the deal and finally, he could blend it out.
He could feel his cock swell even more, and his balls tighten. His sensitive skin was hot against the Medic's latex glove. Ignoring the hard cock in his ass, he pushed harder and harder, his cry nothing but a gargling growl when he tensed around the Medic, his hips trembling, and warm, viscid semen shot out of his dick. Finally. His eyelids grew heavy and his body relaxed. The Medic was neither done nor impressed in any way. Scout stopped caring. His mind was already shutting down and although the hard thrusts still felt unpleasant, although his mouth was still opened by the gag and his cheek resting in his own saliva, sleep overcame him. The pain he felt was replaced by a dream of war and explosions.
With a start, he woke up.
Slowly, he opened his eyes and looked around. Cold sweat ran down his forehead and he rubbed his burning eyes. Carefully, he sat up. Suddenly, he realized that something was wrong. On the nightstand next to his bed somebody had placed a vase with a sweet smelling bouquet of flowers. Who of his teammates would send him flowers?
Anxiously, he stared at his wrist. Not only that he wasn't restrained anymore, he wore a clean long-arm shirt and his hands and wrists were covered with his usual bandages. He patted his chest and his legs - no straps.
He checked the room again. It was the same room as before, but something was different. At a second glance, he noticed that the emblems of the RED company were missing. He was in a regular sickbay. Faintly, the images of a grinning Medic returned. He quickly felt around his mouth. No gag. He trembled, feeling incredibly sick. The bastard had fucked him against his will, and yet, his cheeks flushed again and the well-known tingling sensation returned to his groin. Panic overwhelmed him, but this time, nothing could hold him back. He threw the blanket off and jumped out of the bed. With a cry, he slumped to the floor when his leg didn't support him.
The door opened, and a familiar figure entered.
"Piss off, ya asshole!" the youth yelled when he saw the man's face. His stomach revolted, more memories flooded his mind, and he couldn't fight the sour acid back. The tall man rushed to him and kneeled down by his side, shoving a bucket under the boy's face just the second he threw up.
"Brian, vhat happened, are you alright?"
The young man coughed and tears ran down his face as his stomach convulsed again. A gentle hand removed the sweat that ran down his temples and the tears with a white handkerchief.
"Can you hear me, vhat's vrong? Did you dream again, Brian?"
The friendly and genuinely worried voice finally reached his subconscious and he calmed down. He took the piece of cloth from the man's hand and cleaned his face. When he was offered a glass of water, he accepted it, rinsing his mouth and drinking the rest to make the vile taste disappear.
But when two strong arms reached under his legs and back, he got wild again, kicking and cursing.
"DON'T TOUCH ME, YA SICK PERVERT! DON'T TOUCH ME!"
He was lifted in the air and for a second, his head rested against the man's chest. Confused, the youth halted. The smell was different. The sharp scent of sanitizers was gone. Why did the Medic smell like soap, smoke and coffee? It reminded him a bit of someone else.
"Spy?"
A sigh was the answer.
"No, Brian." Gently, he was tugged into bed, and the man pulled a chair closer and sat down by his side.
"That's not my name," he protested weakly. The whole situation was too bewildering.
"Vhat is your name, zhen?" The other man had taken a file and a pen from one of the nightstand's drawers and sorrowfully looked at him.
"Like I'd tell ya my real name! But I can assure ya it's not a dork's name," he snorted. "Ya know ya have to call me Scout." But his confidence grew less powerful when he saw an unexpected expression on the man's face. No mockery, no grin, not even annoyance. Only sadness and worry.
"And vho am I?"
Baffled at this question, he didn't answer right away. Was this a trick? Another mean game? He searched his brain. Yes, now that he thought of it, he had been here before, before he had waked up the last time. Brian. Sickbay. Hospital. Asylum. Pfeiffer. Familiar words that didn't make sense yet.
Hesitatingly, he replied.
"The Medic..."
"No, my boy." The man shook his head and sighed. "It seems like ve have to start over again. You are Brian, and your parents sent you here because of zhe nightmares and zhe blackouts you had. But zhey couldn't help you at your hometown, so you vere sent here, into my care. Zhis is a mental asylum for young men like you. And my name is Dr. Pfeiffer. Zhis is zhe fourzh time ve have zhis conversation."
The youth studied the man's face. The clear cut, always clean shaven jawline. The slightly broad nose with its straight back. There was no mistake, this was the Medic. Although he looked very different and oddly handsome without his wide, shark-like grin.
And the words didn't make sense, it was as if he had listened to a story about a stranger - this had nothing to do with him. He waited, not really for further explanations, no, they would be more lies. Any moment the man would drop his act, laugh and sneer at him if he only showed the slightest sign of belief.
"Where are the others?" he asked, only to say something. The silence, the calm, friendly face disturbed him, scared him more than the Medic's usual sardonic grin. This was nothing more than another way to torture him.
"Vho do you mean, my boy? Your parents are not here, zhey von't visit you before next monzh," the doctor explained patiently, still smiling softly at him.
"Drop that crap, asshole, ya know who I'm talkin 'bout! Why doesn't anybody come to see me? Heavy. Or... Spy?" What if this wasn't the Medic? A different kind of hope rose in him. What if this man wouldn't grab his head and force him to suck him off? What if this was one of the Spy's schemes? Spy didn't do things the usual, simple way - he loved deception and games. Maybe this was Spy, who would finally get him out of here, freeing him from the Medic's sick treatment.
"Brian, you have to understand zhat zhose are only images from your dreams. Nightmares, fancies." A warm hand took his, but he moved away from the touch. It sickened him.
"You have always been daydreaming, your mozher told me. But zhen you started to believe zhem, talking about a var and strange people. Brian, zhey don't exist. You are safe! You don't have to fight," the doctor continued, pulling back his hand from the confused youth.
"This is a lie! You are lying!" the boy suddenly yelled, and threw the blanket away. "What's this?" He pointed at his leg and began to tear at the bandages. "It ain't lookin' like a fuckin' dream, man! And those?" He held his hands up. "Why do they hurt? Because ya tied me up with ya straps, fuckin' bastard!" By now, the anger was overwhelming. He wasn't an idiot, he wouldn't allow the Medic to toy with him like that, he wouldn't fall for these faked manners.
"Hey, calm down, Brian. Everyzhing is alright. I'm here to help you. Stop, don't hurt yourself again!" the doctor called out in alarm, seizing the boy's arms. He pulled him into an embrace and gently stroke his head. "It's okay, zhis is not a dream, dear, nobody vants to restrain you."
The youth trembled, not knowing what to do. The for the Medic unusual scent had a soothing effect on him, and the hand that now softly caressed his cheek did not scare him. If he didn't look at the Medic's face, it was like he was held by a completely different man. Someone gentle. He began to feel comfortable and that scared him. Not only this, the awareness of his senses dimmed as his need increased and the man's smell and touches made it worse. His disease. It was still there. This was a trick, all of this was a trick.
"Ya ain't gonna fool me." Slowly, he pushed the man back, seizing him by the collar of his shirt. "I know what ya up to! Ya waitin' until I lower my guard and then ya gonna rape me, right? But I tell ya somethin'!" His voice dropped to a whisper when he pulled the man, who refrained from any resistance, up from his chair. The boy's face now showed a fierce smile and his eyes sparkled with a manic, feverish gleam. "Ya ain't gonna control me ever again!"
"I told you, I don't vant to harm you, I vant to help you to get healzhy. You must stop zhis, Brian."
"MY NAME IS NOT BRIAN!" the youth yelled and let himself fall back onto the bed, pulling the doctor with him. The older man reacted quickly and shifted to the side, so he wouldn't fall on the young, slender boy. But his patient was fast, too, and before the doctor could say anything, the youth had straddled him and pressed his arms down above his head.
"It's okay. You are confused, it's okay," the doctor adjured him. "Ve vill talk about zhis. I am not angry. It's a relapse, zhis is nozhing to be ashamed of, Brian. If you let me help you, ve vill find zhe source of zhe hallucinations. And vhy you zhink zhat I vould... abuse you."
"Ha!" He panted heavily, feeling both flustered and desperate. "Lies! Ya wanna hurt me! I won't let ya, not anymore... Ugh..." He couldn't suppress the need anymore. The fever had gotten stronger, and even through their layers of clothes every fiber of his body seemed to detect the other man's warmth. His body acted on its own will, ignoring his strong words and his pride as he began to push his groin against the doctor's, groaning when a shudder ran down his spine.
"You have to stop zhat, zhis is not right!" But the older man's voice was suspiciously hoarse and despite his words, he didn't stop the boy.
"Ya don't wanna hurt me, yeah? Fuck ya, man, yar a fuckin' liar! See?" He giggled triumphantly, one hand letting go of the man's wrists, and frenetically unbuttoned the doctor's pants.
"Brian," the man hissed, but he still remained calm. "Zhis is not you. You don't vant zhis." His free hand reached for the youth's face, gently stroking his cheek.
"I don't... I know... but I need... or I can't sleep..." He trembled more than before, now pushing down his underwear, groaning when their bared dicks touched, feeling how more blood rushed through his groin. "Or it hurts..." he stammered, leaning into the touch and lifting his hips. "Ya win, Medic." Slowly, his eyes closed and his face covered in sweat, he sat down. But when the tip of the doctor's hard cock touched his buttocks, the man jumped up, pushing the youth away.
"Are you crazy? I can't do zhat vizh a patient, especially not like zhis... Do you have any idea how much zhat vould hurt?" Furiously, the older man ran his fingers through his hair, one hand holding his pants up. "I vill be back later. Please calm down, Brian, ve vill talk zhen."
"Doc, NO!" The strong distraught in only two words made him turn around before he reached the door. The boy stared pleadingly at him, sitting on his hands and knees, still shivering and panting.
"Zhis is part of the sickness, dear. Not you. You have to learn to fight it."
"I can't. Doc, help me!" Maybe this really wasn't the Medic. This man was kind, he refused to touch him. Maybe he wouldn't hurt him. He didn't care, he needed the touch, the release, or the pain would become unbearable. To his relief, the doctor slowly came back, hesitatingly though, and sat down on the edge of the bed. For now, his fear and hate were overshadowed by his wish to feel those hands touch him and release him.
"Only zhis time, Brian, you hear me? And you have to promise me to talk vizh me later," he demanded firmly.
"Yeah, alright, doc." He rose, about to straddle the man again, but he was gripped by his hips and gently pushed back onto the bed.
"Zhis does not vork, it vould really hurt. You don't vant zhat, do you, dear?" The doctor lay down next to him, his body half covering the boy's now limb frame.
"I don't care. Do it," was the weak reply.
"But you should care, Brian. Even if zhis is only an illness, you should value..."
"Doc, ya didn't care before. Stop talking shit," he cut the other man off, shifting his waist against him impatiently, and squirmed when a hand moved under his shirt and ran over his chest.
"Vell, maybe zhis is zhe best vay to convince you zhat zhis Medic only exists in your dreams," the doctor finally resolved and put one leg between the boy's, and pulled them apart, while he reached back for a bottle of lotion standing on the night table.
"Zhis vill not be as good as vaseline or lube, but zhis vill do," he explained to the trembling youth when he covered his left hand with the liquid and carefully brushed against the young man's inner thighs. "Relax, I don't vant to hurt you."
He didn't dare to open his eyes. When he had to go through this, then rather with this kind of Medic than the other. Still confused by what was actually going on, he expected another sudden intrusion, and gasped in surprise when a slick finger gently touched his sensitive skin, carefully feeling for his tight opening.
"Gloves..." he groaned as a fingertip massaged his entrance.
"Gloves?" the doctor asked softly.
"Ya wearing... no gloves..." That's why the touches felt so warm, he realized, and gave a soft cry when the finger slowly slid into his body.
"Of course not, I'm a psychologist. Ve don't vear gloves like physiologists. Is zhis alright?"
The youth nodded at the worried question, sighing when a hand ruffled his hair reassuringly, and he spread his legs a bit more. The sensation still felt odd, he couldn't say if he liked it or not, and he flinched a bit when a second finger was added. The movement halted at once.
"Vant me to stop, dear?"
Was he really allowed to choose? What had happened before seemed vaguely unreal the more he allowed himself to belief this doctor. If this was reality, it would be able to make the memory of the dream fade.
"Brian?"
The tentative question brought him back. He turned his head and opened his eyes, directly meeting the doctor's anxious gaze. Squared frames. The glasses were not round.
"Fuck me, doc." Compared to the last time, he didn't feel ashamed. He needed help, and the man would help him. He inhaled deeply when the fingers were pushed in deeper, grazing over a strange, sensitive spot, and his hips bucked.
"Easy, my dear."
The lips that kissed his forehead felt cold against his feverish skin. He closed his eyes again, waiting, sighing when the fingers left him empty. The bed creaked under the doctor's weight when the man sat up and placed himself between the youth's legs.
He heard how pants got removed and how they and other clothes fell to the ground. After a moment of silence, the unknown, naked body of the doctor covered his and he felt the cool lips again, touching his ear.
"I don't know if zhis is alright, Brian," the man whispered into his ear and he could smell the scent of coffee. He shivered when the hard cock brushed his thighs and the hot, leaking tip left a wet trail on his skin.
"Doc..." he moaned, wrapping his arms around the other man's neck. Doctor, Medic, or a complete stranger. It didn't matter. His own dick ached, his need was urgent and he felt comfortable. All he needed was release and sleep.
"Vell. Open your legs a bit more, and lift your hips please. I do zhis for you, dear, but only zhis once."
The boy cried out, his arms almost choking the other man, when the broad, smooth and slick head entered him. His body remembered the time with the Medic and a wave of distress mixed with the arousal, making him whimper.
"Shhh, it's fine. You are doing very vell. Don't be afraid now, or it vill hurt."
The Medic wouldn't have said something like that, he would have enjoyed his anguish and mocked and sneered at him.
Slowly, the doctor's whole length filled him, he felt himself widening around the stiffened cock, and he breathed heavily. The pressure against his inner walls was strong, almost too much, but he wasn't in pain this time.
"It was a dream..." A deep moan nearly swallowed his words when the doctor pushed deeper, again brushing over the sensitive area.
"Ja, Brian. Zhis is real. Can you feel how real?"
He didn't answer. His whole body trembled when the man pulled out, only to thrust in again, slow at first, but deeper. The boy shifted his hips, trying to rub his own erection against the doctor's firm stomach, surprised by the pleasure, surprised because he suddenly didn't want to end this quickly. He cried out, lifting his ass a bit more so the doctor could enter him deeper, his arms not letting go of him for one second. He already felt exhausted when he finally came and his hot, sticky semen covered both their abdomens.
The doctor said something, but his mind was already clouded and he never knew if the older man had finished, too. The unnatural sleep had taken hold of him once more and showed him more images of the war.
x x x
His head hurt when he woke up the next time. The light was painfully bright and his body felt heavy and he heard his stomach grumble, unable to remember the last time he ate. He flinched when something sharp stung in his arm and he turned his head. Another needle had been stuck into his skin, and a thin tube lead to the small plastic package hanging from the I.V. pole, a clear liquid dripping from it. He wanted to sit up, but couldn't. Slowly, it dawned on him what was happening. His arms and legs were strapped to his bed. At the other end, he saw the Medic, how he just stood there and stared at him, grinning. His hands were covered by bright red gloves, the frames of his glasses round.
'It's a dream, a dream, just a dream. He will simply disappear.'
Nervously, his eyes followed the German as he walked up to him and sat down on the bed. Abruptly, the man pulled back the cover and two fingertips slithered over the Scout's stomach.
Smiling maliciously, the Medic held them up so the Scout could see them. A white liquid dripped from them.
"Vell, vhat do ve have here? Our naughty Scout had a vet dream."
His heart broke and he screamed in diepair, but all he uttered was an unintelligible, stifled gargle – his mouth was again, or still, kept open by the cold, sharp steel braces of the dental gag.
x x x
"Brian, I told you, last time, zhat was..." the doctor protested when the boy climbed out of his bed and sat down on his lap, his head resting on the man's shoulder.
"Yeah, I know, just for once, an exception. Hoped I could change ya mind." He ground his hips over the doctor's upper legs, a clumsy attempt to make him reconsider.
The doctor let his notebook and pen drop with a resigning sigh and soothingly patted the boy's back.
"You should go back to bed. Zhis is not good for your leg, and you are still veak. You haven't eaten properly for days. Brian, are you listening?" he chided, shoving the youth's head away from his throat.
"Brian, you promised me zhat ve vould talk," he reminded him sternly, but he still smiled.
The young man looked at the warm, gentle eyes behind squared frames and sighed.
"I know. But I'm gonna need it again in a few minutes anyway, so..." he hesitated before he continued. "Can't ya do me while we talk?"
The doctor laughed with some surprise at this request. "Vhat are you zhinking, dear? Let's be serious for a moment. Your hands are injured, but not zhat bad. I... have to admit I haven't zhought about it zhe last time, naughty boy," he added jokingly, but hurried to pull him into a hug when he saw the distressed face of his patient at those words. "You could have... removed zhat little problem yourself, you know."
"Yeah, haven't thought of that, too, man. It's just... I'm not used to it. He... has always strapped me to the fuckin' bed..." Again, he had buried his face in the man's shoulder. "Doc, I need ya to do me, come on. Was I that bad?"
"Did you have anozher nightmare, Brian?" the doctor asked after a pause, skipping the question, and spoke on when the boy nodded. "Dreams can't harm you, dear. Come, look at me. You vant me to overvrite zhe memory, is zhat right?" Another nod.
"Zhis is not how zhis vorks. Ve have to talk about it and zhen find..."
"Did you have others like me?" The youth frowned and looked at the doctor curiously, his face blushed.
"Young men vho vere traumatized because a dream figure resembling me raped zhem? No." He ignored how the boy winced. "Don't give me zhat look. You have to understand vhat is happening to you and vhy. Do you vant to tell me about zhe dream? Vhat did he do to you? Come." He pulled the boy back on his lap and hugged him again.
"I can't."
"Zhat bad?"
"Yeah."
The young man inhaled deeply when a hand slid into his slip and stroke over his butt, even gliding between his buttocks.
"I can't see or feel any new injuries on you, dear, there's nozhing zhat even hints at your dreams being real. Do you feel sore zhere? I zhought so," he added when the youth shook his head. "You can't help it, ve don't have control over our dreams. But you have to talk or zhey vill never disappear. How about a new deal?"
He bent forward and reached deeper, until his fingertips brushed the soft skin of the boy's sac.
"What kind of deal?" the boy moaned into the man's ear.
"First, one question: Vhat is your name?"
"Brian..."
"Very good." His voice sounded happy and Brian smiled.
"What's the deal?"
"Vell," the doctor began. "It seems zhat you still haven't recovered your memory fully. You can ask me questions about your real life and I vill anwer zhem, hopefully helping you to remember. In return, I vant you to answer my questions. It's like a game. No cheating!"
The youth thought about it for a moment. Truth to be told, he didn't want to talk about anything, and he didn't care, neither about his life in this world nor in the other world. He still wasn't sure when he was dreaming and when he was awake, but in case this was the dream world, he wanted to enjoy it as much as possible before he had to go back.
"Touch me," he demanded boldly. "When ya touch me I'm in." The doctor chuckled.
"Do you really like it zhat much when I touch you?"
"Yeah, now it's my turn, right?"
Laughing more, the man leaned back. When his hands glided over the red shirt, Brian could feel how the fingertips ran over his nipples through the fabric. He shuddered, and the doctor laughed again.
"Clever, dear, very clever. Vhat do you vant to know?"
"If I didn't get hurt because of the war, what happened to my leg?" His eyes shut and he shivered when those hands found their way under his shirt and caressed his bare skin.
"Vhen your parents brought you here, you tried to run avay after zhey left. You climbed out of a vindow and fell, crushing zhrough zhe glass roof of zhe vintergarten. Zhat's vhen you cut your vrists, too."
"Ya sayin' my parents, but..." two fingers put on his lips silenced him.
"No cheating, dear, now it's my turn."
Brian blushed and nodded. The other hand had wandered down and rested on his hipbone.
"Vhat did zhe man in your dream do vhen you woke up? It's really important, I vouldn't ask you out of curiosity. Please, don't you vant it to stop?"
The youth nodded again at the beseeching words. The gentle touches rekindled the fever and he decided that the sooner he would give the answers the doctor needed, the sooner he would get more.
His face even redder, he tried to avoid the other man's calm gaze when he told him how he found himself restrained in his bed, how the Medic had touched and mocked him. And how he couldn't even scream for help, with his mouth gagged. Another shudder overcame him at the memory of the helplessness and the frustration. Then it was turned into a pleasant sensation when suddenly, warm, soft lips sealed his mouth, kissing him gently. He put his arms around the doctor's neck, about to lean into the kiss, but the man had already stopped.
"You can speak here, you can even shout and call for help. Do you vant to do zhat? Good. Now, your turn."
"My parents. I was raised by my Mom, I don't have a father. So why..."
"...vhy do I say 'parents', you vant to know?" he finished the question for him and sighed. "You have forgotten about your family? You really have made up a dream world family... anyvay. You have bozh, fazher and mozher, and a brozher and a sister. No, let me finish. All of you live in Boston. A regular, happy family. As far as I know your mozher stays at home, I vould have to check my notes to be sure, but you von't let me, my dear."
Chuckling at that, the boy wrapped his good leg around the doctor's waist. But he got serious at once.
"A sister... only one brother... so all my other brothers... damn, they are fuckin' dead then!" His eyes mirrored how much this thought hurt him, and the doctor shook his head.
"No, zhey never existed. Zhey grew close to you, like invisible friends little children sometimes invent, but zhey can't die because zhey never vere alive. Don't be sad. My turn." Carefully, his fingernails brushed along the exposed inner thigh.
"Vhat did he do next?" the doctor asked, seemingly absent-mindedly caressing the sinewy upper leg.
The youth swallowed. It was bad enough to recall the dream, speaking of it was worse, making it more real. Obviously, the doctor sensed his discomfort.
"Remember zhat vhatever happened didn't happen to you. You are Brian. Zhe boy you call 'Scout' in your dreams doesn't exist. Maybe zhis makes it easier? Remember vhat he did to 'Scout', and tell it like happened to you. Come, dear, you are strong, I know you can do it." His right hand brushed over the boy's groin like coincidentally and lay still right above the waistband.
"He told him... told me I were a dirty whore, like my mom. I got angry, wanted to kick or punch him, but the straps... he laughed and stood up and..." He stopped, staring at the doctor's pale hand, how it now rested right over his dick, a bulge that swelled suspiciously under the fabric of his pants.
"Continue."
He closed his eyes, trying only to feel the warm touch.
"He shoved his fuckin' cock into my mouth. I was still gagged and couldn't close it or bite or anything. Fuck, I couldn't even suck that damned thing. That asshole just shoved it down my throat."
"Could you take it?" The voice sounded genuinely astonished, and the boy shook his head, blinking back tears.
"No. I coughed, thought I'd choke. He pulled out right in time before I threw up. Doc..."
"It's okay, dear. It's not your fault. You are doing very vell. It von't be so scary anymore now you talked about it." He hugged him tightly while he moved his own legs apart, spreading the boy's legs this way. "Continue."
"Isn't it my turn, Doc? Who's my Dad?" he inquired quickly. Talking about his dream exhausted him. Sitting on the man's lap like this he felt vulnerable, even with his shirt and underwear on.
"I don't know him as vell as I know you, my dear, but he seems to be a nice man. Tall, slim, clever eyes. I'd say he smokes too much, zhat's not good for his healzh. And his French accent is still very strong, very charming. Eizher vay, like your mozher, he is very vorried. Zhey bozh love you."
"Wait, did ya say 'French'?"
"Ja, vhy?"
"Spy is French..."
Sighing, the doctor ruffled the boy's hair teasingly.
"Brian, zhis Spy doesn't exist. Like zhis Medic. Now continue. Vhat happened next?"
The youth squirmed when the hand wandered between his legs and his balls were gently, but firmly massaged.
"He... he didn't even remove the gag... he came back with a bucket and poured fuckin' cold water over my head. Because the smell disgusted him, he said..." He grasped the doctor's shoulders to steady himself when the man's other hand glided into his pants through the side, directly feeling for his opening. Effortlessly, one finger slid inside, not as easily as the last time, but still feeling slightly slick. He wondered for a moment when the doctor had used the lotion, but the other hand pushing down the waistband and revealing his erection distracted him. Slowly, the finger was pulled out and pushed in, over and over again, and he tried to move to the rhythm, lowly moaning.
"Did he rape you?"
He had forgotten about the deal and his own questions when the second finger joined and he was gently fucked by them, while the thumb of the doctor's other hand rubbed over the head of his cock, spreading the first drops of precum.
"Yeah..." His face felt hot, the fever came back, erasing his mind, making it almost impossible to think.
"How?"
"Kneed between my legs... like ya did... grunting in my ear..." No more. He didn't want to remember no more of this. Not of the pain and the Medic's groans and chuckles. And how he came anyway, with a cock fucking his unprepared ass and with the smell of vomit in his nose.
This time, he came with a sob, collapsing on the doctor's lap who held him close to his chest, gently rocking him. Just before he dozed off, he heard the man's last question.
"Brian, isn't... isn't your fazher a doctor, too?"
Before he could remember if he knew anything about his father and why this was important he fell asleep.
x x x
"When ya think ya scarin' me, fuckhead, ya wrong." Scout hissed through his teeth once he was awake enough to form the words, even before he could open his eyes. He had recognized the Medic at once, the warmth and the good smells had vanished from this room, and he didn't even have to look around to see that the flowers and books were gone, too. He had returned from the safe world, back to this place. The dream. And he didn't lie. The memories of his last time with the Medic became vague and colorless and began to lose their horror. Whatever the Medic could do to him, it wouldn't harm him, the pain would be gone once he fell asleep again. He wasn't frightened, and, dream or not, would make sure that the Medic knew that.
"Now, isn't zhat cute," the German answered facetiously, not looking up from his book. "I'm so shaken vizh fear zhat I don't know if I vant to hear more of your sweet tongue or shut you up again. Or razher," he grinned. "Shut your mouzh open. Undankbarer Bengel."
The doctor had told him to be brave if the dreams came back. Although there wouldn't be anything that could hurt him anyway, being brave and headstrong would help him to endure the hallucinations until they ended, not damaging his mind so much.
Easier said than done. Scout bit his tongue, swallowing down his reply, fearing it wouldn't sound as confident as hoped, but reflect his insecurity.
'Dreams can be like vild dogs, Brian. Show zhem your fear and zhey attack. Stay calm and zhey ignore you.'
A good advice, and it seemed so reasonable and believable, while he was surrounded by a comforting air of kindness and security, when he had curled up in the doctor's arms and the man's long, tender fingers ran through his short, unkempt hair.
Now that the warmth had disappeared, his last time with the gentle, soft-spoken doctor seemed to be a faint dream, and the cold stare of the Medic was the only reality for him. The doctor had warned him that this could happen, but no matter what his tormenter would do to him, it couldn't really harm him.
His feet and hands were itching as if needles pricked them – when he slowly had awoken, his whole body had been paralyzed and numb. He lifted his eyes and looked at the infusion bag hanging from its stand. Scout still didn't know what the liquid that streamed into his vein was or what it did, but he suspected it to be the reason for the benumbing feeling. Now, finally, he began to feel his limbs again, wishing he could scratch them. But of course he was still – or again – strapped to the bed, a fact he accepted almost phlegmatically. He continued ignoring the Medic, wondering how long he would stay strong until his need would take control again and crush his resolutions not to give in.
From his hips, a dull, uncomfortable feeling irritated him, but his senses hadn't returned completely yet. The silence in the room was only interrupted by short sounds of rustling paper whenever the Medic turned a page of his book. Scout gazed at the ceiling, almost blinded by the bright light, recalling how the doctor's hands felt on his face and on his hips, and the touch of his lips from the rare moments when the man lightly kissed him.
Another sound reached his ears, and after a moment, he realized he heard his own breath. The dull feeling had changed into a dull pain and now he knew where it came from.
"I vondered vhen you vould notice," the voice from next to his bed stated in its usual, mocking manner.
Scout gasped, trying to regain control of his body and to subdue the shivers. His cheeks were burning again, and slowly, the heat reached deeper.
"What... is that?" he demanded weakly, now fighting the increasing pain coming from his butt and the panic that came with it. 'Just a nightmare. Stay strong!'
"TAKE IT OUT!" Angry at the frightened sound of his voice, Scout tried to move against the leather straps, only to realize that his legs and arms were too weak.
The Medic had put his book aside and stood up, now reaching between the boy's legs. Scout gave a shrill cry when the German abruptly removed the intruding thing from his ass.
"Zhis, you mean?" He held it up so the youth could see it. "Nozhing but a toy zhat I zhink very convenient. It's almost my size, as you can see, and from a lesser diameter here." He pointed at a slimmer part of one of the steel rod's ends. "Zhis makes sure you can't simply remove it. You might zhink ozhervise," he continued to explain, lowering his hands and the toy again. "But I have ozher zhings to do. You vill vear zhis and I von't have to prepare you anymore." He laughed spitefully and the Scout screamed when the rod was pushed into him with one quick, merciless movement.
"Of course I vill remove it vhen you need to relief yourself. Don't forget to tell me."
Scout squirmed, the width of the toy stretched the tight muscle of his entrance painfully and the humiliating, chuckling words of the Medic caused another wave of nausea.
With what mental strength he had left, he forced himself to breathe in low, regular intervals. The primary urge to throw up faded.
"This is not real, just a dream, a dream can't harm me," he repeated, not aware he had whispered the words.
"Oh, is zhat so? Unfortunately, reality isn't defined by vhat you'd like it to be. I assure you, Scout, zhat zhis is very real," Medic commented with relish, and Scout winced when the latex-covered, cold hand reached for his erection. "And zhis parts of you knows zhat very vell. But as much as I vould love to help my favorite little patient, I don't have time for you. Ah, by zhe vay, I heard zhat your mozher called. I let her know zhat you are fine, no need to vorry."
"I hate ya. I fuckin' hate ya, ya god damned son of a bitch..." Scout thrashed from one side to the other, spitting angry curses.
"I zhought I'm a dream, how can you hate a dream?" the Medic sneered, about to open the door and leave his victim behind. "Or does your stupid head finally understand zhat you cannot deny zhe truzh?"
"Fuck ya, asshole, ya better are a dream, if not, I'm gonna kill ya. Ya can't keep me here forever! I'm gonna..."
The Medic turned around, bursting with his cackling laughter.
"You! Vhat do you zhink you of all people can do? Oh vait, I have a vonderful idea! Zhis vill be amusing," he exclaimed, still chuckling, and returned to the Scout's bedside. With quick, skilled movements he unleashed the straps and, adding to Scout's surprise, stepped several steps back, reaching out his hands to show he didn't bear any weapons.
"Now, Scout, you are free. Show me vhat you can do, zhis is your big chance to pay zhe big, evil Medic back for all he did vizh your pretty ass."
Was the Medic insane? Scout didn't believe it, but it was true – he tentatively raised his right arm and nothing held him back.
"Vhat vill you do first? Leap at me and strangle me to deazh? Or vill I have zhe pleasure of zhe delightful sight vhen you slowly and moaning remove zhe little toy from your greedy hole?"
Scout couldn't stand the mockery anymore. And he sure wouldn't humiliate himself in front of the man; rather he'd bear the thing a few minutes longer. This was his dream, and now he was in control, and he could do what he wanted. He tensed his muscles to jump from the bed, but his body didn't listen. His legs were weak, like he hadn't moved for a while at all, and with a scream, he crashed to the hard floor. As a reflex, he squirmed at the pain and cold, bending his back, and cried out again when he felt the inflexible rod inside of him in its full, hard length. The Medic's ringing laughter echoed in his ears. Lying on his stomach, his shaking hands reached between his own legs, to free him from that thing, being watched or not. But his fingers were too numb, and although he could feel the metallic end, his grip wouldn't have been strong enough to hold a piece of paper.
"I kill ya, I'm gonna kill ya. This is my dream! I ain't gonna let ya torture me, never again!" he pressed through his clenched teeth, now trying to push up his body, but he couldn't even get on his knees. Desperate, cheeks glowing crimson when he became aware of the pathetic sight he offered, he crawled over the tiled ground.
"Oh, aren't you cute, like a little, angry dog. Mein Schoßhündchen." The Medic's frantic laughter had stopped and was replaced by a mocking grin as he kneeled down in front of the Scout and patted his head. "Come on, bite me, show a bit determination. Or vas it nozhing but big talk?"
Scout couldn't help it, he really snapped at the man, earning himself another amused and delighted chuckle when he, of course, missed. Angrily, he blinked back the tears of humiliation. It wasn't getting better, the doctor had been wrong. His arms and legs were free, yet he lay naked on the floor, to the amusement of the sardonic Medic, feeling how his opening was constantly spread by this thing that stuck half out of his ass. And all he could do was barely lifting his head and clenching his fists. He held still, neither saying anything nor moving, suppressing a sob while his body violently shivered. And to his dismay the virus kicked in again. But this time, he wouldn't beg. He wished he could though. So he could go back to sleep. And return to the other reality, the world where he was allowed to cry.
The Medic faked a bored yawn.
"You are no fun. Vas it all? Useless." He sighed, seizing the Scout by his hair and pulling him up. "Don't zhink I vould arrive late at zhe team's meeting for nozhing." Manhandling the shaking youth harshly, he hurled the light, scrawny body half over the bed, on its stomach. Scout gave a grunt when the air was pushed out of his lungs at the impact.
"Let's see if my idea vorks." For the second time he removed the rod at one go, placing it carelessly on the ground, and pressed the boy's face on the mattress to stifle his scream. Quickly, he unzipped his pants, spread the Scout's long, slender legs and pushed his hard, solid cock through the loosened hole into the helpless body. Scout's yell of pain was swallowed by the bed. His flat hands drummed on the mattress, but he could neither escape the Medic's grip nor his dick. His feet lost their hold and he kicked weakly into the air and he had to struggle to breathe in enough air not to suffocate. His vision grew blurry, and his eyes rolled up while the German pounded mercilessly into him, mocking him in English and in German.
Scout began to hyperventilate, but the man didn't stop. He felt the Medic's balls slapping against his ass, and the sound and the thought sickened him again, as much as the burning pain caused by not enough lube. Yet his own body didn't listen to him, he felt like a spineless puppet, with the only use as the Medic's sex toy. A sob rose from his throat between his chaotic gasps for air and he choked. As the world went dark, he wondered if he really had managed to get off this time or if he was dying. Either way, he welcomed the darkness.
x x x
He was cold. But calm. Maybe he was dead. If so, then heaven was a cerulean, horizon-less plane and his body light and soaring, finding peace everywhere. Slowly, heaven turned darker and he fell, gaining weight, and his body ached. He curled up, freezing, wondering why his bed was so hard, searching for his blanket in the dark. It smelled good.
"Oh my god, Brian!"
'Don't worry, I'm just sleeping.' He tried to wrap the blanket around his shoulders, but somehow, it wouldn't cover him completely.
"Brian, you are bleeding!"
Reluctantly, he opened his eyes when he was lifted up in the air by strong arms.
"Doc..."
"Heavens, you've hurt your head! Vhat vere you zhinking, did you try to hurt yourself again?"
"Doc..." he tried again, and the memories returned. He buried his face into the man's shirt.
The man stopped, pressing the fragile body against his chest.
"Anozher dream?" he asked softly.
"Yeah. Doc, he is back. He will never leave me alone. He won't rest until I'm dead. Help me, please, help!" he sobbed, his hands clenching the fabric of the shirt. "Please help me..."
"Brian, my dear, I vill try vhatever I can to help you here, in the real world. But as much as I vish I could - I can't protect you in your dreams."
For the first time in years, the youth began to cry.
x x
"Do you feel a bit better?"
Brian was sorry to see such a sorrowful expression on the man's handsome face and he nodded, his still trembling hands holding a mug of sweet, steaming tea. He had calmed down a bit when the doctor had treated the cut on his temple, speaking soothing, kind words while he did so, but the boy's hands didn't stop shaking. He wondered if they ever would.
"Don't vorry too much, dear," the doctor said and sat down on the bed. "It's nozhing but a little tremor. You are very veak, and zhen zhere is zhe mental stress..."
"Doc, why ain't I'm gettin' any better? You said it's gonna be easier once I talk about my dreams," the youth wanted to know. The older man shrugged.
"Zherapie is never easy, my dear. You see, ve often try to forget unpleasant memories, and zhe more forcefully ve try not to remember, zhe more zhey hurt us." He sighed and stroke the troubled youth's cheek. "Zhe problem is – zhe older zhe memory, zhe more remembering hurts us, and I zhink zhose are very, very old memories zhat caused zhe trauma. I'm sorry, I vish I could make it easier for you."
"What's with the virus, can't ya at least give me something against that?"
"Brian, zhis isn't a virus."
"But you said..."
"All I said vas zhat it's part of your sickness," the doctor explained softly. "Your mind tells you it's a virus so you vouldn't have to feel ashamed. Brian, please stay calm vhen I tell you vhat I concluded from our conversations and my observations."
The young man nodded, his hands shaking stronger, and the doctor took the cup from him before he spilled the hot liquid. Then he took one trembling hand in his.
"Your dreams reflect some very horrible memories. But your mind tries to protect you. So it made up zhis story of zhis var to explain your injuries and your strong emotions. I zhought about it for a vhile, vhy you see me as your rapist. It's fine, my dear, don't be scared. You have to face zhe truzh sooner or later," he added quickly when he saw the boy's terrified face. "I zhink somebody did zhings like zhat to you, all of zhem, vhen you vere younger. And you vere too small and helpless to do somezhing to stop it, zhat's vhy you dream you are paralyzed or restrained. And I zhink... zhe one vho did zhat to you vas a doctor, too."
"But what kind of doctor would do that shit with a kid?" He searched his mind for any hint of his past, but all he saw were the pictures of the Medic, how he sneered at him, and pictures of himself, how he must have looked in front of the other man.
"Mankind is bad, Brian."
"Can ya find out who did it?" he inquired, not sure if he wanted to know. The phantom of his dreams was terrifying enough. The doctor shifted uncomfortably, obviously dreading what he had to say next.
"Brian, vhat do you remember of your fazher?"
Brian looked at him in surprise. The truth was – nothing, only what his doctor had told him, and those information weren't real memories.
"What are ya sayin' there? That my Dad, my own father..."
"I hate to say so, but zhat's vhat I zhink. He is a doctor. You dream of a doctor, but you don't give him his real face. And you forgot all about even knowing your fazher..."
Somehow, although all of this made sense, Brian wasn't as shocked as he thought he would be. The idea of having a father still felt unreal. His dreams, though, they felt very real, as real as the uncalled for arousal he began to feel. Soon, he would lose his focus again; he already gazed at the doctor's pale throat, at his face and the thin lips, remembering their soft touch.
"The virus..." he prompted before he forgot about it.
"Ah yes, I was coming to that. Brian, you vent zhrough somezhing very painful and humiliating. Your subconscious still knows. Sometimes, vhen ve experience somezhing really bad, ve search for somezhing to cover it up. Vhen ve are healzhy, ve choose happy zhings zhat distract us until zhe bad experience becomes an unimportant, powerless memory. In some cases zhough, like yours, it happens zhat zhe victim vants to replace the experience, erasing it from existence. Do you understand?
The youth nodded, not very convincingly. His brain still tried to progress the newly learned information. Abstract concepts like this, things he couldn't see or touch, were something he was unfamiliar with. Unlike the smell of tea and coffee.
"Doctor... would ya... can we..." He smiled wryly at him, hoping he wouldn't disappoint him too much with his stupidity and desire. He shifted around on his knees and reached out for the doctor's smooth face. The older man took the hand and kissed the shaking fingers.
"See, zhat's vhat I'm talking about. Your body behaves like it vants sex. It tries to give you zhe impression zhat you initiate and need it, and if you vant it, you can hardly be raped. Rape never happened to your real self if you control it. But that's an illusion. Brian, do you understand zhat zhis is dangerous? You have to learn to fight it and to realize vhat you really vant," he continued to explain, but the youth had already sat down on his lap and begun to kiss the taller man's throat.
"Mhm, I want ya, doc," he murmured, his breath brushing the white skin, happy when his doctor shivered.
"Brian," the man tried to reason. "Only a few minutes ago you lay in my arms, crying, after you fell out of zhe bed, hurt your head, slept on zhe floor and used my coat as a blanket. You are too veak to stand on your own legs, you can impossibly..."
"Ya want me too, don't ya?" the youth interrupted him stubbornly, feeling for the bulge in the man's pants. The doctor groaned.
"I can't sleep vizh you vhen you are zhis veak. Vhat am I saying," he corrected himself. "It should never have happened in zhe first place."
But the young man wasn't listening.
"Fuck me from behind, okay?" He had moved away from the lap and rolled back on the bed, now lying on his stomach.
"Coy little zhing," the doctor laughed softly. "You make it hard to resist, you know zhat?"
Brian watched the man from the corner of his eye when he stood up and undressed. His eyes were fixed on the doctor's hips when he slowly pushed down his slip.
"Doesn't zhe sight scare you, dear?" The doctor asked and climbed into the bed, pulling the blanket over both their bodies. The youth shook his head. Again, he stroke Brian's flushed cheek.
"Can I kiss you?"
Instead of replying, the young man moved closer and, his eyes shut, searched for the doctor's lips, kissing them shyly.
The older man gave a sigh and answered the kiss, his left hand wandering deeper until he had reached the slim hip. Carefully, he pulled the lithe body against his.
"Doctor..."
"Call me Matthias."
Brian nodded, opening his mouth a little and let the doctor's tongue in. He moaned lowly, the sound hardly audible. His slip was shoved down and he shuddered when their dicks touched, feeling the soft, sensitive skins grinding against each other.
"Fuck me, Matthias," he pleaded, not even a bit embarrassed, only hungry for the other man's kiss and cock. A small part of his brain began to understand what the doctor had explained earlier, but he had already forgotten about the warning. It worked, it made him feel better, that was all that mattered.
He broke the kiss and turned back onto his stomach.
"From behind."
"Brian, my dear..." Gently, his doctor stroke his hair. The boy knew the man would try to reason with him again, but he also heard the excitement in the deep, soft voice. To be the one to cause the kind, handsome man to react and desire like this made him happy.
"You know zhat zhis has to stop, don't you? Vhen I sleep vizh you it vill only feel good for a moment, it von't solve anyzhing." Yet, he didn't stand up, he climbed behind the boy, kneeling between his legs. Lovingly, his hands ran over the youth's back.
"I don't want this to solve anything. I want to feel ya taking me. Please, Matthias!" He spread his legs a bit more and lifted his ass, exposing himself to the man's eyes and hands, and held his breath.
The doctor chuckled, sounding amused.
"Vhat are you doing to me, Brian?" he wondered, and the youth moaned into his pillow when one of the warm, wonderful fingers finally glided between his buttocks and pushed gently against his hole. He relaxed, and the fingertip went in easily. But he inhaled sharply when the finger prodded deeper.
"I'm sorry, my dear, I lost it for a second. Vait." Soft kisses on his back made the boy shiver and he sighed when the familiar, slightly cold lotion was applied on his entrance. Two fingers carefully explored him this time and hungrily, he pressed his butt against them, demanding more.
"Don't, let me do zhis slowly," the doctor chided under his breath and held the boy's waist steady with his free hand. "You like zhis?"
"Yeah... it's you..." the boy whispered, his words followed by a deep groan when the doctor pulled back and pushed in again, deeper.
"I can't believe zhat you are already ready enough," the taller man mused in amazement and removed his fingers.
The youth gave a disappointed sigh that changed into a long, relieved moan when the fingers were replaced by his doctor's cock. After only two or three thrusts it went in with its full length, and he enjoyed to be filled by it, feeling it pressing against his still tighter walls without hurting him. With each thrust, he widened a bit more. This was a sensation he would remember. He wished he could see his doctor, kiss him, look into his gentle eyes, but he couldn't move, two strong hands kept him in place. He allowed the older man to control him and the way he was fucked; his own body and mind free to enjoy every movement inside of him. The delicious, wet friction whenever the doctor's hips clashed against his ass, caused by lotion and their sweat.
"Brian, please, keep your voice down, ve are not alone in zhe hospital, if someone finds out because zhey hear you..." the doctor warned anxiously, but didn't stop. No, he pushed harder, and the youth screamed into his pillow, hoping it would be enough to muffle the sound. His own, neglected cock had begun to leak, several drops of white precum had already dripped from the hot tip onto the bedsheets.
His hands were still weak, like they were in his dream, but he found enough strength to reach under his belly and to stroke along the hard shaft. Not as hard as he wished, but instead of quick release, his orgasm built up deliciously slowly, a sweet torture. Unimpressed by all of this, the doctor continued fucking him, every once in a while removing his dick completely from the small body, only to fill it again with one quick, hard thrust.
The youth couldn't hold back anymore. The next time he felt how the hard head of the doctor's cock brushed over the sensitive spot inside of him, his back arched and his hips shivered uncontrollably, desperately trying to repeat the stimulation. His hand trembled around his own, even more swelling erection and finally, he came in one, hard shot, spilling his semen over his fingers and the bedcover.
His body lost its tension and collapsed, but this time, he didn't fall asleep right away. Panting heavily, far away from recovering his breath, he waited, listening to the doctor's deep moans. Now that his mind wasn't focused on his own arousal anymore, the movements, the touch of the long, hard dick sliding in and out of him at will felt even more intense, his body almost painfully sensitive. The pushes against the inner, sensitively overloaded spot sent tingling, electrical shudders through his body, and he felt like he was about to faint soon as he couldn't handle all these sensations anymore.
Abruptly, the movements stopped, a bit more pressure against the almost raw walls made him moan once more while the doctor's semen was pumped into him. He smiled when the heavy body rested on his back and the chest heaved up and down against his spine.
A sweaty hand gently ruffled his hair and felt surprisingly hot on his forehead.
"Ya feel good, doc..." he whispered and closed his eyes, wincing a bit when the man pulled out, leaving a wet trail between his legs and on his inner tights.
"Mein Gott, Brian, you have a fever!"
x x
A wet piece of cloth lay on his forehead and he enjoyed the cold feeling while he was resting in his doctor's arms.
"I told you you vere to veak, my dear," the older man reminded him and gave him a light kiss on the lips.
The youth grinned faintly.
"I told ya, it's a virus."
"No, it isn't." With a serious face the doctor replaced the cloth with a fresh one. "Zhis happened because exhaustion vas zhe last zhing you needed after sleeping zhat much and not eating and drinking properly." He sighed. "Zhis is my fault. I should have known better. You've even become skinny!"
"Matthias... can I still call ya that?" he asked anxiously and smiled when the man nodded. "How long did I sleep?"
"Too long, Brian," he replied, caressing the flustered face. "After every blackout you have slept almost two days. But every time I had just decided to call a physician, you voke up. After your last blackout though..." He sighed. "Obviously, zhe emotional strain vas too much. You slept for zhree days vizhout vaking up for only a minute! And zhe vorse zhing is, vizh a fever like zhis it's zhe best vhen you rest and go to sleep again." He sat up and looked at the youth intensely, his face somber and sad. "I'm afraid to lose you."
The worried expression hurt him. He knew he needed sleep, but he didn't want to hurt his doctor, or to miss any minute he was held by him.
"Doc... what's gonna happen when I get better?" he wondered, his mouth feeling dry.
"Vell, my dear, you vill return to your family and hopefully lead a happy, healzhy life."
"And you?"
"I vill stay here, vaiting for anozher young man vho needs my help," he explained calmly, and this time, the calmness stung in the young man's heart. He turned his face away, not caring when the cloth slid from his forehead.
"I don't want that. I won't get better anytime soon anyway." Stubbornly, he bit his lips, but the doctor laughed softly and gently covered the boy's cheeks with his hands, turning the face back. Carefully, he kissed him, feeling the hot breath of a real fever against his skin while he played with the youth's tongue.
"You love me, don't you, my dear?" he finally asked, holding the boy's hand and squeezing it when he nodded. Then he let go and stood up.
"Where are ya going?" the youth cried out in alarm.
"I vill be back in a minute, don't be afraid. I von't leave you. Zhe truzh is..." He adjusted his glasses and avoided the boy's eyes. "If I said I vanted you to stay here for a long, long time it vouldn't be very professional, and a horrible zhing to say for a doctor." With a smile, he lifted his gaze, facing the anxious boy. "Even zhough zhat vere zhe only zhing I vant to say now. Do you understand? Try to sleep a bit. And later you vill eat somezhing." He sighed when the youth closed his eyes and began to breathe regularly after a short moment.
'Finally.'
x x x
He woke up with a scream. A shrill whistle echoed in his ears and he coughed when his lungs were filled with dust. The smell of sulfur and smoldered wood lingered in the air.
Abruptly, the Scout opened his eyes. From afar he could hear the shouts of the Soldier. Above him, through a veil of dust, he saw the cerulean sky stretching over the world. He moved and gave a very undignified yelp when something sharp cut deeper into his leg. He blinked the dust away, sorting his mind. The detonation. The suitcase. Right. The bridge had collapsed and he had fallen along with the remains into the dried-out stream.
"Shit."
More carefully this time, he tried to sit up without moving his leg. He lay on something hard, probably a rock or a chunk of metal that pressed against his lower back.
Suddenly, he laughed. Broken planks had kept him down. The pain in his back and the injury. And who knew what Blu's Demoman mixed into his explosives. Stupid, silly, fucked up reasons for stupid, fucked up dreams. He leaned back and gazed at the sky, listening to the sounds of the war. Once he was saved and patched up he would call his mother.
The End...
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Epilog
The Medic closed the door behind him, stretched - hoping this would wipe the sickly sweet smile from his face - before he hurried out of his office, and almost knocked the Soldier over. Perfect. Just the man he wanted to visit anyway.
"No running in the corridors, maggot!" the veteran shouted at once. "Er, speaking about running maggots, I came to inquire about the Scout. No beating around the bush, Medic, how is his condition?"
The German sighed and shook his head.
"No change, I'm afraid, Herr Soldier. His leg isn't recovering, zhanks to zhe fever. It's lasting for so many days now. I vill tell you zhe truzh, maybe I have to amputate and even zhen, I'm not sure if he vill survive."
"That's bad news. Very bad news," Soldier mused. "Can I see him?"
"I'm afraid not," Medic shot back at once. "I cannot allow zhat. Zhe risk zhat you or anybody else vho might visit him catches zhe fever, too, is very high."
"Well then, Medic. See what you can do to stabilize him enough so he can go home. I better contact the administrator and order a replacement."
The Medic nodded. "Zhat's zhe best. I vill go back and check on his leg. I apologize for missing anozher meeting."
"Nah, it's okay, private," Soldier assured him. "After you missed the last one from two days ago, I have decided to postpone it for the time being. Inform me when you can leave the boy alone long enough. Eh, new glasses?"
A bit surprised by the question, he reached for them. Indeed, he had forgotten to put on the ones with the round frame.
"My spare ones."
"Whatever. Keep up the good work!"
"Zhank you, Herr Soldier."
He watched the American as he went down the corridor, and his polite smile vanished from his face. "Zhank you indeed, my friend."
Back in his office, he sat down at his desk and refilled two of his syringes. After that, he opened his notebook and began to write.
"The concoction still works. The phases of "the sleep", a coma-like state, are still prolonged and don't end before the remedy is injected. Once the test object is exhausted, its body shuts down and quickly recovers from minor injuries. During this time, the test object is completely oblivious of what happens around him and with him.
I lowered the dose of the component I thought responsible for the increased libido.
Unfortunately total exhaustion didn't cause immediate sleep today and I hope it will stay under my control.
Yet I'm confident that my formula, once optimized, will help to manipulate and form the minds of war prisoners and soldiers alike to create perfect, obedient servants. Or even help disciplining unruly children by eliminating obstinate personality traits."
He chuckled as he added that last sentence. Still smiling, he wrote on.
"With this and a bit of basic psychological expertise, personalities can be changed and formed within a few days – submissive, dominant, wild, soft and back. Even memories and preferences can be altered at will, a fact that might interest other fields than warfare. The formula and a few right chosen words are needed to customize the perfect slave."
He put the pen away and closed the book, storing it away in a little vault under his desk. Sceptically, he looked at the bottle that stood next to his usual pair of specs. He put down his glasses and rubbed his eyes. Switching between two extreme worlds and personalities wasn't as easy in the long run as he had thought. His role was tiring; the result was worth it, tough. The Scout was easier deceived by his act than he could ever hope for, and every once in a while the Medic had to hold back not to burst with laughter at the boy's naïvety. That he could really make his victim fall for him... he should consider a carreer on the stage. Yet he was glad that he had to play his role only every few days for a few hours. If he couldn't be himself in one of the worlds, he would be sickened by his own act. Playing a doctor so different from his actual personality demanded a lot of him, but the rewards weren't too bad, he thought and grinned when he remembered how the Scout had offered himself to the good doctor only a short while ago.
He picked the bottle up, leaned back in his office chair and thoughtfully stared at the clear liquid. Not even half of it was left. Mixing it from the scratch would take some time, and he was running short of at least two important substances. Who would have thought that he would be offered such a perfect opportunity all of a sudden? And who would have thought it would work so smoothly?
With a sigh, the Medic put the bottle away. This was something that shouldn't be delayed longer than necessary. The worlds already began to overlap.
"Vell, how vould zhe vild, unvilling, hating Scout react to zhe truzh? How vould zhe timid, villing, loving Brian react? An important decision. Vhich personality should I keep, vhich vill vanish forever? Vho should find out zhat zhe oh so kind Matthias Pfeiffer was a lie? Bozh reactions vould be interesting. Indeed, a very important decision." He grinned and shoved his hand into the pocket of his coat, fishing out a coin.
"Kopf – Scout. Zahl – Brian." He flipped the coin, caught it midair and looked at the side showing up. His malicious smile widened in delight. "Zhis vill be fun."
He put the coin away and chose the appropriate glasses according to his decision.
x x x x x
Translations:
Mein Schoßhündchen = My lapdog
Mein Gott = My god
Kopf/Zahl = head/tail (the sides of a coin)