I do not own TF2

I just write fanfiction for it. Hurr hurr hurr.

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Ah...Medic this is such a tragic turn of events, for you at least....what are you going to do now? The little Boston rat betrayed you. If I wasn't so distracted by the way that those handcuffs chafe your skin, I might spend some time gloating.

Well...I might as well gloat, you aren't going anywhere any time soon.

The boy was almost too easy to manipulate.

Especially after I let Sniper tame the little terrier.

It was delicious. Simply delicious. The boy /worships/ everything about the Brit-bastard. Especially his cock, which is somewhat annoying when trying to sleep.

I've been sleeping on the couch for the last few days, since I share a room with Sniper. What was that word...hm...ah! Right, for the last few weeks I've been 'sexiled' from /my/ room. Now that you are here...it is time for some creative...revenge.

What? You really thought that the supply trucks where delayed due to technical difficulties? Well...it isn't completely untrue...you can't drive it you have no hands.

Don't worry about your precious team, I am not going to do anything like last time. Can't promise that the rest of my team will do the same.

I suppose you want to say something, but sadly the gag will stay in till I can trust you. After all, you are mine now.

Sniper will be down to question you soon, I have to wait for my fun.

...

Just a taste of your skin. It won't hurt. He won't know.

Just a taste.

Your face is crinkled with disgust as I lick your bloodied cheek.

It's....divine. The salt of your sweat mixed with the heady scent of fear and rage..and..and that delicious tang of blood. It tastes /so/ good. I can't imagine what the rest of your body tastes like....I will find out...yes...

This feels so good....

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"Fucking HELL."

"Hm....if yah say so mate...hm...."

Stupid British dingo, I would murder you now in your sleep, but I have to clean my suit.

Pryo better not have used up all the laundry detergent.

Fucking wet dreams.