WARNING: BLOODPLAY

Now that we have that out of the way:

You guys have a chance to decide the fate of my next story!

Well, not plot or anything, but pairing. I have created a nifty little poll that you can find on an-appleaday dot webs dot com. As well as the story in its entirety ;D

You get to vote who my other Scoot character will be with. Voting will close on Tuesday, October 16, at midnight PST.

When he flipped my examination table, all I could think of was tearing his intestines out his rectum. I wanted to slide those scalpels into his flesh, tear him apart, flay him and make him watch as I rip out his organs with my bare hands.

But I must contain myself. It would not do to violate him so mercilessly - at least, not until the second date.

I cannot resist hitting him, though. I am furious, welling over with anger, and I regret to admit, I shout rather violently at the boy.

"You may disrespect doctors, including my good self. You may detest my office and all zat happens in here. You may even be moved to shout or harm me. But you do NOT interfere vith my tools, my clothing, or my furniture. You do NOT touch any of my equipment vithout my permission. Do you understand zat, or must I dumb it down for you?"

He looks flabbergasted, and I have to say I have no idea when I threw him against the wall. I feel slightly spacey, as if I am not in control of my own body. I'm holding him up with a hand on his thin little neck. I could snap it, just one quick turn, and he'd be limp and broken at my feet. The Respawn system would catch him, of course, and he'd be good as new; but it would also push him away from me.

"Answer me, you little slut." I hear the words as if someone else is saying them. I almost turn to look for who is speaking but manage to stop myself just in time for him to kiss me.

He's so inexperienced. I suppose it has now fallen upon me to teach him. The only way to deal with Scout, I have learned, is to show him you are completely in control.

I press my palm against his hardening package, grasp the outline of his shaft, and tell him in no uncertain terms that I am going to run this procedure. My teeth fasten on his throat, clenching just hard enough to restrict his breathing. Naturally he's wriggling about and whining like I'm hurting him, so I suppose I must relinquish my hold.

I kiss him again, hard and deep, forcing my tongue between his lips. My Scout slumps down so I support him with my leg, and before I know it he's rubbing on my knee, moaning. This child is so impatient. His hand is on my stomach, now, feeling my muscles. I am slightly ticklish, I must admit.

So I throw him on the floor, and he scrambles at me, his hands outstretched towards my hardening cock. Before he can chafe me, though, I tear the bandages off his hands - the bandages he stole from me the other day, I might add - and he's on me like a ravenous wolf, licking and sucking and even nibbling my skin. The teeth, I don't like so much, but he swallows me like he hasn't eaten in weeks. I grasp his hair, to slow him down, but he keeps jerking back and forth. I want to stop, to really bask in this sensation. He doesn't let me. I come, hard, into his mouth, and he swallows greedily.

And then I am kissing him, tasting myself on his lips.

"Now," I tell him. "Bend over, and we'll practice some medicine."

He doesn't wait for a second. He turns away from me, pulls off his shirt, allows me to pull him back against my chest. I'm licking and biting and sucking at his shoulders. My hands stroke his stomach, caress the taut lines of his abdomen, and push his trousers down off his hips. His shorts are askew, and jutting out in front like a tent.

My fingers grasp his erection and lovingly stroke through the cotton. He grunts, peels off his boxers, and puts his hand over mine, jacking fast and hard.

I grasp both his wrists with my other hand and hold them together. "No, Finnbar," I tell him sternly. "You must listen to your doctor. Rest assured, you will recieve excellent treatment ... but only if you cooperate."

He groans as I work his shaft, smearing precum across his slit with my thumb. He is nearly dripping, this lad. I am still hard as a rock, and his ass, so tight and soft, beckons sweetly. The scent of his skin is intoxicating. No matter how much deodorant I insist he slathers on, there is always that boyish smell of sweat and dirt surrounding him. His skin is salty against my tongue as I lave it across his neck, now. My teeth leave deep imprints in his flesh.

Surgical lubricant is always on hand - one of the many perks of being a doctor. I quickly undress and slather myself in the substance. Finnbar whimpers as I slip my cock between his cheeks, teasing his puckered hole. He seems uneasy.

"Doc, is ... is this gonna hurt?" he mutters, blushing fiercely. I laugh.

"Oh, dearest Finnbar. If you only knew," I tell him, and with one thrust I am inside.

He screams, the sound of his agony drowning me as I saw back and forth. He begs me to stop, screeches that I'm hurting him, that he will bat in my head once he gets away. He is struggling. At once point he manages to strike my lip, but the taste of blood only serves to fuel my desire.

And it isn't too long until his attitude changes. As I tear his delicate inner lining, he begins to moan in earnest. Now he is begging me never to stop. He bellows my title again and again, struggling to turn himself over. I allow him this small privelege.

He tightens his arms around my neck, sobbing into my shoulder. "Oh, Jesus, Doc, right there ... how the fuck, how the fuck ... come on, do it, doc, do it!"

My Scout begins to pant harder, shout louder, to push against me. His throbbing cock is trapped between our bodies and it rubs against my body hair on every stroke. I could fuck him forever, this delicate little creature; I want to tear him wide open, to bury myself inside him, and stay there forever.

He bleeds like a fountain. Scout will need quite the blast from my medigun to treat his poor, torn up ass. Squealing like a pig, he jerks hard against me. One of his hands snakes down to caress his cock but I trap it halfway, place his fingers in my mouth, and bite down.

It is then that he comes, shooting sticky ropes across my chest. One manages to hit my lip and I release his hand in order to kiss him.

He seems reluctant, at first; but I tangle a hand in his hair, tug hard, and hiss, "lick it up, Spatzchen. Lick your come off me."

And with a look of revulsion, he does. There is something in his face, though, that makes me think perhaps he wanted this all along. He licks me carefully, cleans every trace of semen from my face, and then kisses me, hard. It is now that my hand finally wraps around his cock and jacks him gently. My mouth is suddenly filled with his moan of relief.

I am not done yet, though. I push him off me, shove him on his face, and begin to push hard and fast. My hands are clenched on his hips, and he grunts with each thrust. I am so close. All I want to do is fill him with my come, to mark him as mine. How I would love to parade my Spatzchen before the rest of the team and show them my conquest. Nevermind battlefield statistics - this is domination.

With that thought I come buckets. I fill him with semen, and when I withdraw I shoot onto his back, painting him with my essence. Each splatter elicits a gasp from him.

It is then that I collapse on the floor. He crawls towards me, all of his limbs shaking, his cock at half-mast. My filthy boy.

He slips into my arms. I kiss his forehead and smooth the hair away from his temples. Both of us are breathing raggedly, covered in sweat, and entirely too warm for comfort. Nevertheless I hold him close, allowing him a moment of tenderness.

"Heya, Doc?" he asks me. Could I be mistaken, or does my Scout sound - shy?

"Yes, Finn?" I respond.

"Well, I sorta told ya my name. Can ... can I know -"

"No, you may not," I interrupt. He goes quiet for a moment. The silence becomes oppressive, so I decide to continue.

"However ... you may call me your Master."

And with that, I grasp his cock and slam him on his back again.