Muscle Management

Chapter 2

At exactly six am Scout's eyes shot open. He was wide-awake and completely refreshed. There wasn't even a cursory morning yawn or grumble as he sprang out of bed with cat-like ease. His body was a fully charged battery. If moving had been easy before, now it was effortless.

He dressed and brushed his teeth eager to start the day. He could already tell it was going to be amazing. His limbs moved like hot butter and all he could think of doing was run as hard and as fast as he could manage. He looked up at the mirror above his basin and grinned, only taking a minute to admire his devilishly handsome reflection before bolting out the door.

The sun had begun to rise when he started laps around the compound. Streaks of gold and pink washed across sky, providing a glorious backdrop for Scout's soaring spirit. His legs moved beneath him, whirring like motors with a mind of their own. After the tenth lap he paused to take his pulse. He jogged on the spot and held fingers to his wrist, counting under his breath. He had barely hit 120 beats per minute.

Scout felt like he could run forever.

Eventually Scout had to return to the base for breakfast. When he sauntered into the mess hall he saw his teammates hunched around the table noticeably lacking the same chipper attitude. He tipped Sniper's hat back playfully. "How's it goin' ranger?"

"Piss off, wanker." Sniper readjusted his hat in irritation. His voice was deep and croaky and he nursed a cup of coffee in his hands, clinging to it like it was his only salvation. Sniper had never been a morning person.

At another time Scout might have taken Sniper's irritably as a challenge and returned an insult. Today all he could do was grin and shrug. He seated himself between Demoman and Spy (who quite frankly weren't in much better spirits) and helped himself to some heaping mounds of eggs and bacon that were offered on the table.

Spy, who was having his usual breakfast of cigarettes and black coffee, leaned away in distaste when Scout started hoeing into his food, using his fork more like a garden tool than cutlery. "Please Scout, do you really 'ave to be quite this disgusting so early in ze day?"

"Ummph grarph," Scout replied, sending flecks of egg onto Spy's designer Italian suit.

"You seem vell, Scout," observed Medic wryly as he buttered his toast. "I do hope you vill be feeling ze same vhen ve start fighting today."

"Ya better believe I will Doc." Scout flexed his bicep in a physical display of confidence for everyone sitting at the table. "Those BLU's betta be shakin' in their boots, cause I'm a force'a nature."

It didn't gain anyone's assurance, but right now Scout was feeling so good he couldn't give a flying crap. He knew he was at 110% today, and that was all that mattered.

Soldier and Heavy were the last members of the team to come in for breakfast. The Heavy lumbered in first, plodding like a sleepy bear and made a beeline for the food. Soldier, who was always ready for combat, marched in with his rocket launcher slung against his shoulder and turned to address the team.

"Today men, we fight not for liberty, but for victory!"

There was a small pause as some of the team cast Soldier a brief glance, before everyone returned to eating and morning chatter.

Soldier continued his speech unaffected. "We have suffered losses, troops. Terrible losses. Today is the day of retribution. If against all odds we do not succeed, I will personally hand out a cyanide capsule for each of you." He paused for dramatic effect before continuing. "Pain is not an excuse! Fear is not an excuse! DEATH is not an excuse! I fought off the eleventh battalion of the Third Reich with one leg, armed with nothing but a corkscrew and a hair curler. I expect the same devotion from you lackluster maggots." He smiled faintly at the fond memory before he pointed his rocket launcher at Scout like it was a laser pen. "Private, state your current condition!"

"Hey, you ain't got nothin' to worry about, okay."

"And what makes you so damn sure son? Yesterday you had the reflexes of an acid tripping hippie!"

"Uh, well…" Scout's eyes met Heavy's across the table. He couldn't just admit to everyone that he let this guy rub him up and down with cooking oil, even if it did turn him into an unstoppable dynamo. The memory of those large warm hands gliding across his skin made him shift uncomfortably in his seat. "I just… got some help okay! I'll be fine."

Heavy raised an eyebrow, but thankfully didn't speak up. He returned his attention to his food and the issue was forgotten. For now.

"Help huh? Well God help you son if you sabotage things for us again. Failure will not be tolerated. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yeah sure, whatever."

"I beg your pardon, private?"

"Um, sir yes sir?"

Satisfied, Solider finished with a salute and an about face. He marched towards a seat closest to the bacon.

Scout was so hyped up he couldn't stand still for even a second. He bounced and jogged up and down, impatient to get outside and start cracking skulls. The team was doing preliminary weapon checks, ammunition loading and silly hat selection in the battlements. Scout had his bat, pistol and loaded scattergun. Everything he needed. He could only lean against the wall and fidget while these chuckleheads wasted time.

He tilted his head up and groaned in frustration. He just wanted to friggin' blast people already. What was the hold up?

A large hand clapped down on his shoulder and startled him out of his thoughts.

"How does tiny Scout feel today? Leg is better, yes?"

Scout peered up at Heavy, his oversized proportions loomed over him and suddenly Scout felt awkward. His memory flashed back to the Doctor's office. He thought about the strength of those hands, kneading his aching muscles. The pressure. The pleasure… Scout stepped back a comfortable distance from Heavy, shifting his weight from foot to foot as a nervous habit. "Yeah, uh, I feel pretty great actually. Still kinda smell like hashbrowns, but my ass is heaps better. You got a real talent, big guy."

This must have pleased Heavy, because he placed his hands around Scout's waist and picked him up as easily as Styrofoam. He laughed heartily.

"Whoa, whoa! Waddaya think ya doin'? Put me DOWN."

Heavy put Scout gently back down on his feet. He hunched his shoulders apologetically. "Am sorry. Is just… am glad to be helpful. Was worried skills were rusty. If you feel any pain though, you must tell me, okay? We can fix later."

"Yeah sure, just don't do that again. And seriously, keep your voice down. Let's just keep this between you and me for now." Scout looked around the room. Some of the other team members were turning their heads to see what all the commotion was about.

"You do not want massages anymore?" Heavy frowned.

"Nah, nah! 'Course I do. It's just…" He wondered how he could delicately put it to Heavy that his services should be kept discreet. He realised he couldn't so he opted for the next best method. Diversion.

"Oh hey, is that a scratch on your gun?"

"Sacha?" Heavy's eyes went wide in alarm and he picked up his minigun to inspect it thoroughly.

Deciding that now was a good time to distance himself from Heavy, he found some reason to go and bother Engineer. "Yo Hardhat, need a dispenser ovah here!"

"Dangit boy," His ten-gallon hat bounced on his head as he turned around in irritation. "We haven't even started the darn battle yet!"

It was hard to imagine that only yesterday Scout was incapacitated. When the siren sounded he left the battlements in a blur. His rapid recovery must have been a shock to almost everyone on the team, because in the periphery of his vision he saw them looking on open mouthed as he left a cloud of dust in his wake. Heavy of course was still fretting over his weapon while Engineer made the final adjustments to a shiny new dispenser.

Yes! He thought as he kicked his legs and double-jumped across the bridge towards the BLU base. Scout is fuckin' back in action.

Scout had become so agile it actually took some adjustment. He thought he had carefully calculated his jump to bat a BLU Pyro right in the gas mask only to completely spring over his target. He nearly landed in front of a sentry, and it was only by the skin of his teeth and some quick thinking that he wasn't waking up in the respawn room.

The battle was particularly heated today. The RED team was sore about their previous losses and were gunning for revenge. Heavy bellowed as Sacha mowed down the onslaught that the BLU's were throwing at them. The juxtaposition between a humble Russian masseur and a bloodthirsty lord-of-war really was something to behold. Medic had taken his place right behind him to pump healing rays into the large man, screaming German expletives at the BLU's. The energy of battle was high today, and it made Scout vibrate with exhilaration.

He had managed to make his way up to the BLU battlements. A bullet pinged right past his head, embedding itself in the concrete wall behind him. He ducked and discovered just how close he was to the BLU Sniper, who now was hastily reloading his rifle.

"Bugger this," the Sniper muttered before he pulled out his Kukri and started to throw wild swings at Scout.

"Whoa fuck!" He dodged a swing that was close enough to shave some hairs from his head. The Sniper pushed forward, backing him into a corner. Scout pulled out his bat and thought about taking the Sniper on in some kind of strange weapons duel, but he knew this kind of close range combat wasn't his strength.

It was a spark of inspiration, or maybe just some primal instinct that reared up inside him from the adrenaline coursing through his veins but Scout did something he had never done before.

Keeping one eye on the advancing Sniper, he took three steps back before taking a running jump at the wall. His body had taken over by this point and Scout was cool with that because he couldn't trust his brain half the time. The bottoms of his trainers made contact with the concrete and before he knew it he was airborne. He kept his body tight and somersaulted right over the Sniper's stupid crocodile hat. His heels hit the ground with a thud.

He had just pulled off a back flip. He actually pulled that shit off! He was a freaking ninja!

The BLU Sniper obviously couldn't believe it either, because he was frozen and blinking stupidly at the wall, Kukri still clenched in his hand.

Scout didn't waste any more time and swung his bat to 'BONK' the Sniper in the back of his skull with enormous satisfaction.

Sniper crumpled, and Scout cheered his victory. "Whoo hoo hoo! Anyone one else wanna piece'a me? Nah, I didn't think so."

Unfortunately Scout didn't have much time to gloat. The BLU Pyro rounded the corner and bathed Scout in a blistering inferno. It didn't matter though. Scout woke up in resupply still grinning.

It wasn't long before Scout's newfound acrobatic skills were giving the RED's a much-needed advantage.

His flexibility made it far easier to dodge projectiles and balance just wasn't a problem anymore. He even discovered a new technique to avoid direct fire from his enemy by standing on their shoulders and beating their heads in as they twirled in confused circles.

Of course, the objective was to capture the enemy intelligence. He was having so much fun running rings around the BLU Demoman that he almost forgot what his purpose was. It only took a few heated remarks from the RED Soldier to remind him what exactly he was supposed to be doing.

"Are you going to retrieve the intelligence any time soon private, or are you too busy fixing the holes in your stockings?"

"Hey, I'm on it alright! Don't get ya panties in a bunch."

Scout dashed though the BLU base, side stepping a Spy that futilely attempted to back stab him. When he finally located the intelligence and strapped it to his back, even the bulky briefcase seemed lighter today.

By now the BLU team had cottoned on to the fact that Scout was a serious threat to them. So when Scout emerged from their base, leaving a paper trail of Intel in his wake, he was face to face with the entire arsenal of the Builders League United.

Scout could see backup coming for him on the far side of the bridge. It was useless. A swarm of BLU mercenaries were surrounding him and he knew it would be too late before any help arrived. Fuck, a Pyro was flanking him on the left and Scout really didn't feel like being cremated again. The BLU Heavy was the closest and he could hear the tell-tale sound of his minigun charging. This meant that Scout had approximately 2.5 seconds to figure out how to get out of this. Yeah, piece'a cake.

The BLU soldier was overeager as usual and let loose a close-range rocket whilst screaming "Maggot!" On another day Scout would have accepted that he was royally screwed and reassessed his strategy after respawn.

Today though, Scout had a serious chip on his shoulder and fuck if he was going to lose another fight.

In movement so fast you might have thought he was under the influence of BONK soda, Scout jumped and kicked off the rocket a split second before impact.

He was propelled upwards by the force of it, feeling the heat of the explosion lick his heels. Like a child jumping across stones in a pond, he hopped from head to head of the BLU team, creating a path towards the bridge and avoiding the hail of bullets they were spewing at him. He had to leap a little further to land on the helmet of the BLU Engineer, who cursed at him in colourful Texas slang before Scout used all the power in his legs to bound up and land on the awning of the bridge.

He risked some valuable time to give them the finger, before dashing back to the RED base.

"Victory."

It was every bit the celebration that Scout had hoped for. He was enduring painful thumps to the back as Soldier congratulated him and forced a cigar between his teeth. Demoman was taking personal charge to make sure everyone was supplied with an alcoholic beverage (this was a party he had started on many hours before).

"You know where that cigar was made son? America! I don't support any of that pinko Cuban crap."

"Oh, so zhat is why it tastes like burning excrement?" Sniffed Spy, who was contentedly smoking his own national brand of cigarettes.

"It's the flavour of freedom. Something you wouldn't understand, you croissant munching surrender monkey!"

Pyro nearly melted Scout's face off when he lit the cigar with a burst of his flamethrower. Scout was still too young to have developed a fully-fledged nicotine habit, so he took some awkward coughing puffs and patted out the small fire that had developed on his chest.

Demoman was really getting into the spirit of things and threw an arm around Scout's shoulder to draw him in close. "I ne'er seen a thing like it laddy. Yae were like some mythical beastie today. Och! When ye flew over tha' Soldier, I couldn't believe me own eyeball!" He pushed a cup into Scout's hands, filled to the brim with acrid liquid.

While Scout appreciated the compliments, he really couldn't endure Demoman's booze breath for much longer. He pulled away from the drunkard, making sure his drink didn't spill everywhere. He took a tentative sip, taking a moment to savor its unique tang, before spluttering in the manliest way he could manage. Somewhere in the fermentation process Demoman's scrumpy stopped being alcohol and started being battery acid. Scout drank another mouthful because he wasn't a pussy or anything.

He couldn't quite shake the niggling sense of guilt that had formed in the back of his mind. A lot of the credit really should be going to Heavy, whom with his gift of touch had unleashed the potential of Scout's body. Scout took another sip of the vile brew and moved to the back of the room, avoiding the hub of the crowd. He didn't want to draw any more attention to himself than necessary.

Heavy was talking to Medic over in the far corner. He had his own paper cup of scrumpy, which was so small compared to his frame that he only needed to hold it between his thumb and forefinger. He looked up and noticed Scout was alone, so he politely excused himself from the Doctor's company and headed over to join Scout.

"Leetle Scout did well today."

Scout held his cup tightly and twirled a smoldering cigar with his other hand, happy to leave it unsmoked. "Yeah, we sure showed those BLU's alright." He chuckled nervously.

"Da. We did."

There were a few moments of silence between them, and that always made Scout uneasy. He started to ramble just to fill the void. "Uh hey, listen… I just gotta thank ya. You really saved my ass. Like, literally. I mean uh, at first I didn't think it would actually work, y'know. But like, then I went running and…" He trailed off, embarrassed by his inarticulate gushing. To his surprise Heavy chuckled kindly and placed a large hand on Scout's head.

"Is good to know I can help. Is nothing really."

The scrumpy was starting to take effect and Scout's face warmed a little. He glanced up at the large man smiling down at him and had to quickly look away again.

"But uh," He casually glanced around the room. Everyone was too drunk or preoccupied to overhear this conversation. He cleared his throat and continued. "I think I overdid it today. Shouldn'ta pushed so hard, cause in the last ten minutes my leg started seizing up again." He lifted his leg up again to demonstrate. It was faint, but he could definitely feel the uncomfortable sensation of tightening muscles flaring up once more.

"Mmm," Heavy tilted his head and his eyes raked down Scout's body. "Is not big surprise. I did not think one session would fix problem. If you like we could go again tonight."

Scout took another sip of scrumpy just so he had something to occupy his fidgeting hands. "Yeah. Yeah, that'd be great."

"Good! Same time tonight yes? There are some muscles I will work on that we did not have time for yesterday. Will keep Scout credit to team."

"Ok, sure. Lookin' forward to it." Scout watched Heavy re-join the party before the tilted his cup up and downed the last of his drink.

The party raged on for quite some time before it ended in the usual way. With Demoman passing out in a pool of his own vomit and Soldier getting into a fistfight with Spy over cultural differences. Compared to some of the other outcomes from past celebrations, it was deemed a success.

Therefore Scout was still slightly tipsy when he wandered down the corridor to the Doctor's office that night. He was in a good mood, but as he drew closer to the door that uncomfortable knot in his stomach became harder to ignore.

There was some exceptionally irritating music wafting down the hall. When he reached the door he realised that it was coming from inside the office. Scout turned the handle with some reluctance and stepped inside.

Heavy was standing over an old fashioned gramophone with his eyes closed, humming along to some fruity classical composition.

"Ahh, the fuck?"

The sound of Scout's voice broke Heavy out of his trance. He turned around enthusiastically and waved his hand at the room, which was set up like last time, thankfully sans the candles.

"Scout is here! Very good. When you are ready we can start."

Scout took a long look at the record player and pointed towards it questioningly. Did he even need to ask?

"Scout did not like candles last time. I thought maybe music is better for mood. Is nice yes? Tchaikovsky."

"No man. It ain't. Turn it off before I break it."

Heavy slumped his shoulders petulantly, but he acquiesced. The music came to an abrupt halt and he grumbled about Scout's lack of appreciation for the higher arts. His annoyance was minor though, because he returned to his usual jovial self as soon as Scout started to undress.

Scout was shucking off his pants when Heavy went to retrieve the oil bottle. While the man's back was turned Scout used the opportunity to physically assess him. It was strange. For someone so large he had been so inconsequential to Scout before now. Their interactions had never been meaningful, and rarely was there an opportunity for them to cooperate during battle. Heavy had simply been a large dumb figure, slightly faded in the background. Scout was a bit ashamed that he had given Heavy so little respect. He wasn't going to throw himself to the floor and beg for forgiveness or anything, but yeah, maybe he'd be a little nicer from now on.

"So, if you lie down on table, we will begin. Maybe tomorrow Scout will be able to fly?"

Scout didn't think much of Heavy's humor but he could tolerate it if it meant another mind-meltingly good massage. He hoisted himself on the table, gripping his towel to keep it slipping off. He was tingling with anticipation for what was about to come. Was it normal to want this so much? Scout decided this was a question that was best pushed to the furthest most reaches of his conscience. He didn't have the emotional maturity to deal with that kind of shit.

The warm skin of Scout's belly touched the surface of the table as he lay across it. This time however, he kept Heavy within his line of sight. He was developing a fascination for those magic hands of his.

The first skin-to-skin contact helped switch Scout into primal mode. He just focused on the fingers trailing his spine and before long his chattering brain started to quiet. Warm palms kneaded his shoulders. Yeah, that was nice…

It was similar to last time. Heavy did spend extra time working on places that were only touched upon previously. Thumbs kneaded the base of Scout's neck in slow, methodical strokes. Scout hummed his appreciation for this and tilted his head to allow Heavy more access. He flicked his eyes up to see Heavy deep in concentration. The large man's eyes were almost closed, sensing Scout's body more than seeing.

Scout was still running off a buzz from the alcohol, so his inhibitions were dangerously low that night. He breathed out a sigh of contentment when Heavy moved on from his neck and started to squeeze his shoulder blades and decided now was as good a time as any to strike up conversation. "So why did ya learn to do this anyway? I mean, you used to be a boxer right? This is kinda girly hobby to have for meat punching knuckle machine."

"Is not so different really." Heavy murmured, taking his time to slide his hands up Scout's back.

Scout thought about that for a second. Then his eyes crossed in confusion. "Uh, beating the living snot out of another guy's face is like this, how?"

"If you know how to hurt a man, should also know how to make feel good, da? Knowing this skill, it is… valuable."

"I mean-uhhhrg!" Scout was interrupted when Heavy did a particularly wonderful thing to his lower back. "I mean, I ain't complainin'. Feels fuckin' great. It's just… you gotta touch dudes everywhere."

"Not always. Women too. Sometimes even pretty ones," He chuckled. "But most of time men, yes."

"Yeah but why?" Scout just couldn't wrap his head around it.

Heavy only shrugged, "I like it."

That was the best answer Scout was going to extract from Heavy, so he dropped the issue and just let the man keep working on him.

Heavy was now down to the legs again, stretching and kneading them with those wonderful, amazing hands of his. Scout wondered about these other men that Heavy had so much practice with. They had probably been other fat sweaty Russians. Somehow, even that thought wasn't enough to dampen the physical reaction jolting through Scout's body. It was minor right now, but the massage wasn't over yet. Scout would just have to hang tight.

Scout also discovered that the backs of his knees were incredibly sensitive. He squawked when Heavy tickled his thumb in the dip.

Heavy thought this was funny, and achieved the same reaction by repeating his actions to the other leg. "Leetle Scout is ticklish!"

"Hey, cut that out! I'll kick ya in the teeth."

Still smiling, Heavy gave Scout's sensitive areas a break and began work on his calves. He paused for a moment, hands cupping the delicate taper of Scout's ankles. "Legs are nice. Like woman."

Scout pushed himself up by the elbows and threw a glare over his shoulder. "Fuck man, don't say that!"

Heavy shrugged. "Is true. Am not trying to offend. Scout has nice healthy body. Maybe a leetle small, but should be proud."

If Heavy hadn't been doing heavenly things to Scout's feet he would have been out the door by now. He folded his arms under his chin and huffed, willing to endure emasculating comments so long as those slick palms kept working their way up his legs. It made his spine tingle and his head light. It really was that good.

They were reaching that point of high intensity when Heavy started to push his fingers deep into the muscle, really searching to coax out all that hidden tension. "Aw jeeze…" Scout moaned, resisting the urge to squirm away. He loved it, he hated it and he wished it would never end.

There wasn't a sore inch of skin that Heavy neglected. At one point Scout was sure that Heavy put his elbow into his back and readjusted his spine. Scout's heart began to beat faster and his face heated up from all the amazing sensations.

It might have been the alcohol, or just the circumstance that contributed to it, but suddenly Scout's imagination was assaulted with a vision that was entirely uninvited. He could see himself lying on his back panting and writhing. Heavy loomed over him, holding Scout's legs over his head and fucking him so hard the table shook.

Scout was so appalled at his brain that he actually screamed out loud. Heavy paused from his ministrations, startled at Scout's outburst.

For a moment Scout was overcome with irrational paranoia that somehow Heavy could read his mind. He peeked over his shoulder and up at Heavy who was staring at him quizzically.

"Did I hurt you?"

Scout sighed in relief and rested his head back on his arms. "Kinda, but I don't remember telling ya to stop."

The awkward moment was over, and Heavy began to stroke Scout's back again albeit slightly more restrained. Scout's relaxed body belied the utter turmoil that his mind was going through right now. It didn't help that he had a boner again or that Heavy had begun working on his buttocks and was doing some kind of pizza dough kneading technique. It was the curse of a young body. Or, at least that's what Scout told himself.

Heavy worked on his backside for a good ten minutes, occasionally making comments about his improved efficiency out in the battlefield. Scout hhm'd and haa'd, not actually listening to anything that Heavy was saying. Everything would be over soon and he could lock himself in his room with a shit ton of dirty magazines and purge this incident from his memory.

Heavy pulled the towel back up over Scout's hips when he was done. He let his oily palms linger on Scout's back for long enough that Scout looked up to find out what was going on.

"Scout," his voice rumbled, much deeper than usual. "If you like, I can… fix other problem."

"Uh," a bead of sweat dripped down Scout's forehead. "I don't know what you're talkin' about."

Heavy laughed softly and a hand gently squeezed Scout's shoulder. "Do not think I did not notice. You are man. Is only natural."

Oooooh shit.

Scout turned his head to look at Heavy, eyes wide in panic. "Fuck, it's nothin' like that! I just… you were…"

Heavy stooped down until they were eye level and returned Scout's gaze. He was the picture of calm. He kept a hand on Scout's back and rubbed it in soothing circles. "Is nothing to be ashamed of. Sometimes would do this special service back at home. Is very enjoyable if you trust."

Scout's mortification edged over to let some of his curiosity in on the conversation. "Wait, what? You've done this before? To other guys?"

Heavy shrugged. "They liked it."

Scout looked at him incredulously.

"Was also good for money." Heavy admitted.

"Aww jeeze." Scout breathed, wishing he could just crawl into a ball from the sheer weight of humiliation.

"We do not have to. No pressure. Is only an option." Heavy stood up again and made his way over to the sink to wipe his hands on a cloth. He looked nonchalant until he threw a sly glance at Scout. "But, it maybe help Scout fight tomorrow. Not good for leetle man to be so tense."

Scout had heard of these 'rub and tug' parlors as his brothers used to call them when he was growing up in Boston. He had never did patronage one. Firstly because he was underage, and secondly because he had no idea where to find one. It didn't stop him dreaming about it though. He was a hot-blooded young man after all. Now tonight he was presented with the opportunity to have all secret fantasies could come true, except fuck, it was Heavy. Not sexy.

None of that meant he had any less of an erection straining against the table. He squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his forehead to the table. Some of his resolve crumbled, and in a quiet voice Scout asked, "It'll really make me fight better tomorrow?"

"Oh da," Heavy sounded pleased. "Like warrior."

"And if we, you know, do this… ya won't tell no one?"

"Is sacred oath to keep session private."

"Well…" Scout's mouth suddenly went dry, "okay fine. But this don't make me a queer or nothin'."

"Not at all. Is only to help relax." Heavy approached Scout who still had his face pressed against the table. "You will feel much better after." He wiggled his fingers, motioning for Scout to move. "If you turn over we can begin work on front."

Scout realised that this was probably his last opportunity to back out of this arrangement. But, like in almost every other circumstance, it wasn't Scout's brain that was doing the thinking for him. Scout's cock twitched and that was all the encouragement he needed. He sucked a breath in, slowly turned over and pressed his back flat against the table. He still had his towel wrapped around his waist, but the tent at the front was obvious.

His wide eyes turned to Heavy; a silent plea for the big guy to be gentle.

The corner of Heavy's mouth turned upwards, and he retrieved the oil bottle. He took his time to warm the amber liquid in his palms before he began.

Scout wasn't sure what he was supposed to expect, but he was pretty sure it would involve his cock. So, he was surprised when Heavy took a hand in his own large ones and started to gently knead the fleshy part of his palm.

"Did you know," Heavy's voice was still deep and husky, "that the body has points all over. They are erotic zones. Can drive man wild."

"Uh, okay?" Scout wasn't sure what to make of that. He was staring up at the ceiling trying to focus on the feeling and not so much the reality of the situation. He didn't know much about erotic zones but he was pretty sure his dick was one of them.

Heavy chuckled and moved his fingers up from Scout's palm, trailing them down to the crook of the elbow.

Scout squirmed. This was a completely different kind of touch from earlier. This was softer. Sensual. It felt nice and everything but he just kind of wished that Heavy would get it over and done with. Scout had been rocket launched out of his comfort zone just by agreeing to this.

Heavy's hands travelled to his collarbone, almost ghosting across the skin before he moved upwards and placed a thumb on each side of Scout's head, kneading his temples in a slow, hypnotic rhythm. It felt weird. Scout almost made a scathing comment about it, but something amazing began to happen before the words even reached his lips.

Instead of an all-round massage, Heavy was pin-pointing areas. He spent time to massage and stroke each spot before he moved on the next one. After each area it felt like more of his blood rushed to Scout's straining erection. His skin was on fire and his jaw went slack with awe. He panted as his body filled with a burning energy. It built every time Heavy unlocked another area. His chest. His navel. The balls of his feet. Places Scout wouldn't have even given two thoughts about otherwise.

He had yet to give any attention to Scout's weeping cock, but somehow Scout felt he was being pushed to his absolute limit. "H-how," he gasped, "how the fuck are you doin' this? Uuurggh!"

His hips bucked upwards. Heavy didn't even bat an eye. He was in cool control, slowly working his way down to his hips. He drew the towel back, completely exposing Scout to the cool night air.

"Oh shit! Ahhh!" Scout threw his head back, wracked with delirium. What the hell was going on? He was the horniest he had ever felt in his life, and yet Heavy hadn't even touched the important parts yet.

Right now it didn't matter that Heavy was a man. It didn't matter that he was his teammate or that this might have been pushing the limits of professional conduct. All Scout knew was that Heavy was some kind of deity and Scout would do absolutely anything for him if it meant sweet release. Words failed him now, so he could only beg Heavy with wide imploring eyes.

Finally, finally Heavy got down to business. He re-oiled his palms and with a warm gentle palm gripped Scout at the base of his cock. Some of the oil trickled down Scout's testicles, making him squirm at the sensation.

"Get on with it!" He hissed, unable to endure much more.

Scout had personally witnessed Heavy punching a man's face inside out. These same hands were now tenderly enveloping his cock, working their way up and down. The oil eliminated any friction. Heavy kneaded the final pressure point, just beneath the base of Scout's balls.

No one had ever touched Scout like this. In fact, Scout didn't even know you could be touched like this. Heavy was in perfect control, taking Scout to the edge only to pull away at the last moment. He repeated this several times.

"Haaa ahhhh! AHH! Please, please, please!" Scout sobbed and begged. All dignity was forgotten at Heavy's touch.

Making eye contact with Heavy was what finally pushed him over the edge. He came in violent spurts and when he thought he was done he realized that he was still coming. Heavy's hand continued to move up and down, milking Scout until he made sure there was nothing left.

It took a whole minute for Scout's vision to clear. The pounding of his heart and the sound of rushing blood in his ears just wouldn't relent.

Distantly he was aware that Heavy was drawing the towel back over Scout for modesty. He walked around the room cleaning up and clearing equipment with the nonchalance of a man who hadn't just jerked of his fellow college in the sake of naturopathic therapy.

He was finished before Scout could even find the strength to blink his eyes. "Leetle Scout might need some time. Sometimes first time is too much to handle. You will be fine tomorrow. I see you at breakfast. We will talk then."

Heavy left the room, quietly closing the door behind him.

Scout lay on the massage table, in that small room located within the 2Fort base for half an hour. He couldn't even twitch a finger. It took him that long to gather his wits and recover from the most intense orgasm he had ever had in his life. When he finally was able to move, he could barely crawl to retrieve his clothes.

Scout wondered how he could look at Heavy tomorrow, let alone talk to him.

He left for the showers. He didn't even bother to turn off the lights.