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phoenixfire-thewizardgoddess · 7 years

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TF2 FORSAKEN Fanfic - “Bridging the Gap”

[Heavy/Medic] for @camiluna27, nsfw

The soft hiss of dying flame pervaded the air, and familiar footsteps shuffled over the dry ground just outside their thin canvas shelter. Tension swam through the small space, like a writhing emotional molasses that seemed to press heavily on both inhabitants.

It held them firmly on their sides, each facing away from one another and watching the flickering shadow puppets of their teammates milling about around them. Engineer's steady hum pervaded the night, a soft creaking as he rested his gunslinger on someone's shoulder, murmuring words of some kind of advice.

He was good at that.

Sounded like Sniper returned something, but it was lost in his low drawl and the buzzing of insects. The sharpshooter had been twitchy all day since the bridge thing, and sharing a tent with their resident runner didn't help much.

Somewhere beyond, Demo and Soldier sat on sentry, awake and ready to respond. They passed by the tent every so often, but mostly remained on the outskirts of their campsite; alert and ready to respond at a moment's notice.

Pyro was probably already tucked into their bed, Engie was real good at keeping an eye on the firebug. Their tent was the furthest away from the rest, just in case they should wake up desiring... rainbows.

And Spy? Well, no one was entirely sure where the espionage agent was, exactly. He'd been cagey and distant since the bridge situation, hovering near his so-... the Scout, with a disgruntled air, as if he didn't quite understand why he felt the need to be close by the other.

Heavy had noticed, but said nothing. Now was not the time to push the man towards proper paternity, and he had almost lost the son he refused to claim twice in only a few days... which would not help his nerve.

It was easy to focus on the familiar rhythms of their camp, their teammates, the little dynamics and barriers that bound them all to one another through good times and bad. Easy... and yet, addressing the cavernous expanse that seemed to lay between the two sleeping almost back to back? A gargantuan task.

Neither wanted to be the first to say anything. Today had been... memorable, for all the wrong reasons... for both mercenaries.

Medic had ushered the runner to bed early, amidst loud bostonian protests, and then retired himself. Heavy had dawdled reluctantly himself, for some time, until Demo had to shake him awake and suggest the Russian turn in for the day. Laughingly stating that Heavy had 'earned it'.

His hands had clenched, but the man managed a jovial smile in response. Heavy had earned nothing... he had lost.

The tent had been so silent when he entered, like a graveyard at the dead of night. The doctor had shed only his shoes and labcoat, spectacles neatly perched atop them, and Archimedes settled into a nest of the practitioner's tie.

It seemed odd, for the Medic he knew always tended to feel that anything but the most basic attire was too hot to sleep in. Especially in these marshy climes... and, well... another reason.

But the latter was no longer possible.

Heavy was an intelligent man, he knew why they had hidden the truth from everyone; that hope was powerful, undiluted by reality or fear. But somehow, it constricted his heart with an unpleasant sensation at the thought of offering a false sense of security to their comrades. Claiming a cure, where none was to be found... it was, ultimately, far crueller than speaking the dire truth.

But... on the bridge... for a moment, as the rope snapped, their eyes had met. It haunted Heavy. Filled the aching silence as he had dropped his own outer layers, and curled into the provided bedding.

It was funny, how something ephemeral could be so oppressive, something with no weight could fill the room, steal the breath from your lungs with the crushing sensation. Illogical, yet real. Heavy's fingers had worried the provided sheet so severely that one corner was in tatters. And yet, neither could find the strength to speak, to break the spell holding them hostage.

Though they knew one must, or none would sleep this night.

A sharp crack fills the air, wresting both from a fitful sleep that neither man knew they had succumbed to out of sheer exhaustion. Automatically, they half-rise, Medic hefting his bonesaw, and Heavy crouching near the entrance, a human shield as always.

Someone curses, there's a clang, and then Demo's laughter. Without realising it, the pair relax, knowing the sound meant safety.

"All's well, those a-bed... Solly just tripped one o' Sniper's traps. Looks like a right goose-egg, ye should see it..." Demo calls, further reassuring the other mercenaries. In the seconds following, murmurs, shuffling bodies and the zipping of fluffing of pillows can be heard.

Still, Heavy and Medic do not move. Not so much from the reaction, but more the realisation of how swiftly they had returned to... this. The Russian putting himself in the direct line of fire, and the German armed, ready to provide murder or medicine depending on what he saw was needed. Covering Heavy's back, as always.

They had relaxed, and yet, not quite managed to settle enough to leave their defensive positions. Even with the sound of Solly's loud grunt as Demo used Eyelander to free him, and the pair strolled around the campsite's circumference once more.

Somewhere close, a snore emanated, indicating slumbering teammates trying desperately to catch up on lost shuteye.

Heavy starts, when he feels the unexpected hand tentatively touch his shoulder. No, more... hovering. Ghosting over the skin, denying true contact as if he feared the retribution.

"All is vell, meine lieb-" the Doktor's jaw clicks shut automatically, as if horrified to have uttered such familiar terms so flippantly. "I mean, Herr Heavy. Forgive zhe slip of my tongue..."

The silence following the statement was weighted, yet not so stifling as before. He did feel some anger brewing within his heart for the deception... and yet, given the day they had had...

Mutely, the large man rocks back on his heels minutely and presses against the questing palm. It is nothing more than an ordinary moment of contact between two human beings... and yet, so much more.

Words seem... far away, right now, but he quests for the right ones to bridge the gap between them. Ah, the irony of it all.

"Doktor, I do not understand why you have chosen to hide truth from team..." he starts, feeling the hand tense along with its owner. "But... my words were too harsh, too cruel. Almost the last we spoke."

"Und I forgave you for zhem hours ago, as I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me for... my omission of zhe truth." Medic answers, a sliver of earnesty filling his normally controlled tone. "Vhen zhe bridge gave vay..."

"Da." Heavy responds succinctly, covering all that had and had yet to be said on the matter. In the moment their eyes met, as Medic fell and Heavy couldn't move to grab the ropes until Scout screamed loud enough to shake him from the sudden stupor...

It said more than words ever could have. Not quite forgiveness, and yet... a recognition that harsh words had passed between them, yes, but they could be forgiven.

A moment more slips away, and then Medic breaks contact, slipping back to his bed and providing space for the pair to process. In truth, what they had transcended this little argument... but, Medic's devious way he bandied about words to beguile the truth often caused Heavy concern. His family would never be anything less than straightforwards, even should the news be unpleasant, that was simply how things were.

Though Medic had not been raised in such a manner, indeed Heavy knew little of the man's family outside of his nationality. It was mentioned when the other was intoxicated, which indicated many things to the stalwart russian, and therefore he never pressed too hard.

Still, the very real threat of losing Medic today had changed things. The frustration and anger at discovering the falsehood paled in comparison. He could barely feel any of that, anymore; as if the touch they shared had swept it aside.

True, they would speak of it in a more level-headed moment away from the team... but for now, their disagreement was non-existent. For now, it was simply them, alone and alive.

His legs ached from holding a strange position for so long, and Heavy huffed as they straightened. They stung softly, but it was no true hardship, and would resolve in a moment or so. The Russian moved back to his own bed, and settled once more; only to find himself frustratingly awake in this new, lighter atmosphere.

He stared at the ceiling in annoyance for a long moment, before sighing and accepting consciousness was his new prison for now. From a foot away, he heard an echoing exhalation of acceptance from his Doktor.

Yes, his Doktor, always.

Sparing a glance in the other's direction, Heavy sees Medic's should slump in defeat, and the man messily flopped to his other side so they were able to converse. A thrill of awkwardness rose between them, and died as Medic chuckled in grim amusement of the situation.

"A fine situation ve find ourselves in, ja?"

"Indeed, my doktor..." he replies, evenly, and tries not to smile at the way Medic's eyes widen at the use of such an affectionate terminology.

Heavy reaches out a hand and clasps the other's shoulder, and the last shreds of animosity between them dissipate at the contact. They both know there is more to talk on, arguments to be had and questions asked; but all of that is in a far off future that precludes the here and now.

"It is quite chilly tonight, mein lieb... I vorry for your health..." Medic teases, testing the boundaries of this fragile new attempt to reconnect.

Heavy raises an eyebrow. "Da, it does seem you are not prepared for such cold weather. Perhaps we should share, conserve body heat..."

It was a familiar game they played, and slipping back into the rhythm of it all seemed easy enough even despite the circumstances.

Medic smiles, "Oh, vhat an excellent solution, you are quite zhe genius Misha..."

The name slips out, and you can see a moment of concern flash over the German's face, as if he felt it would bring proceedings to a halt. But Heavy's smile never wavers, and he gestures again for Medic to slip under the raised covers.

Gracefully, the other does.

It is awkward. As it always will be after a fight between two people, especially those who have wound their lives around one another so tightly.

Medic and Heavy are flush against one another, but avoiding eye contact, wiggling about slightly to find familiar positions of comfort. When finally they settle, all is at peace for a moment or more, before...

Perhaps it was the warmth, the relief, the sudden reconnection... but something other than their renewed relationship had sparked. The 'offending party' had the decency to try and minimise the situation by turning away, muttering about how it was just excitement and easily ignored... but the other would not have it, instead pressing more firmly to them. Grinding their own erection against its twin.

Half-murmurs and whispers pass between them, consent and plea to feel the other closer than had been allowed in weeks, nay, months of close-quartering. Each asks and is answered, though the specifics are all lost in the fervour of one frantic mouth meeting the other's.

Positions shift as they move, trying almost desperately to press themselves close enough together to meld into a singular being. The warmth of skin on skin was almost unbearable in the muggy night; and all the while, they hushed each other, themselves, for their teammates slept only a few feet away and would be woken by any strange or loud noise.

Heavy pants as the doktor shifts position, arms wrapping about his neck to gain better leverage as he thrusts back. There's too much fabric between them, god... they just need-...

His hands slide under the Medic's vest, helping the other slide it off with minimal loss of contact; then the tie, and finally the shirt is divested along with belt and trousers. All haphazardly splayed about the tent... but neither truly cared.

Heavy's lips broke away from Medic's to press kisses down that proud neck, delighting in the surprised, yet muffled gasps the move elicited. In revenge, Medic's skilled hands danced over the Russian's torso, stroking, caressing, tweaking, setting afire erogenous zones with medical efficiency.

When they pressed close to one another again, Heavy could feel the wild pounding of Medic's heart against his chest; matching time with his own. Pleasure built between them, rising and falling with every press, every thrust, every stuttered movement because a neighbouring mercenary grumbled briefly awake...

Finally, Heavy could take it no more...

"Doktor, please..." he whispers, voice soft and hoarse all at once; so utterly different to the booming tone of command he usually employed. Heavy grinds up into the doktor, satisfied at the way the other had to bite his lip to forestall any telltale moans.

"O-of course liebling..." Medic pants, rising slightly to divest himself of his final garment and retrieve something from his supply bag. Heavy raises an eye at the lubricant, but Medic shrugs, "Zhere are many applications for zhis, medically, mein schatz, I assure you."

Heavy rolls his eyes, "Of course doktor, I believe you..."

They laugh, quietly, until Medic frees Heavy from the constriction of his undergarments; the resulting hiss makes Medic's hand withdraw with an apology about the lubricant being cold. The russian shudders, slightly, partly at the low temperature... but mostly at the touch.

He stops Medic from straddling his torso to prepare, and gets an inquisitive headtilt instead. Heavy tries to think how to phrase it, not the request, but the why behind the sudden urge...

Though nothing comes.

"Are you alright? Ve can stop if zhat's vhat you vant. Just being vith you is more zhan enough..." Medic is soothing, in a tone he used only for Heavy (and Archimedes, and sometimes concussed teammates).

"Nyet. Do not, Doktor. Was not request to cease, but... change order of things. I would like-... I need-..." Heavy pauses, not sure how to express his want, surely they changed places frequently enough but this was different. Medic had nearly died today, for good, and this all felt too... dreamlike to be reality.

"Oh." Medic says.

"Oh?" queries Heavy, ready to relent, but Medic smiles and class his hands officiously.

"Oh of course, mein lieb, vhatever you vould like most..." he waggles his eyebrows, "Now you shush und let me do all zhe vork.."

Even after everything, they trusted one another innately, and Heavy felt no trepidation in allowing Medic access to his body like this. Although he could have strangled the man for teasing him with such a slow trail of kisses from collarbone to thigh. He was painfully hard and desperate for his need to be fulfilled... but, Heavy trusted his Doktor.

Medic's thumb rubbed a small comforting circle into his hipbone as the man pressed slick fingers to Heavy's entrance. Glancing, teasing, slicking the area in a mild way as that talented mouth tormented the Russian anew by providing brief licks to the rigid, throbbing member pressed firmly against the man's abdomen.

"Doktor..." Heavy's voice cracked, conveying in a single word his longing, his need. But Medic failed to relent, to give in to such a plea; he was a meticulous man...

He relented in the form of a single digit breaching the Russian's lube-slick ring of muscle, gently teasing in and out with meticulous dexterity. Heavy sighed a moan into his palm at the sensation, trying to keep quiet, despite the long-awaited sensation returning to him at last.

Medic muttered a litany of phrases, praise and questions between distracting kisses and touches. And when he added the second finger, Heavy gladly arched into it, seeking that which Medic was deliberately avoiding touching...

He was granted a conciliatory suck of his cockhead, and the sudden sensation of being engulfed in a hot, wet, all-encompassing environment almost made him cry out. But preservation made him stifle it at the last moment, in the crook of his elbow.

"Patience, mein man..." Medic cautioned, trying to sound more in control than his flushed countenance and weeping erection would have an onlooker believe.

The third finger followed swiftly, though Medic did pause to add more lubricant as well as slick his own erection up. Heavy felt his bones shaking with need, a howling pit of pleasure denied rested heavily on his abdomen, and his focus was trapped on the probing digits... and the strangely enraptured look on the face of the man he loved. The man who was working so hard to make this memorable...

He surprises Medic, as the man slips his fingers out, by reaching up to crash their mouths together for a kiss. A muttering of epithets and romantic promises in Russian... which the Doktor does not have a full enough grasp on, yet, to know how deeply the sentiments are meant.

Still, it brings a smile to the Medic's face. "Oh you silly fool, ich lieb dich too, you know zhis..."

They are flush against one another for a moment, and Heavy can feel the hot weight of Medic's erection pressing against his entrance. Can feel the way he aches to feel them merged together in this unique way, and finds a way to express this sentiment with his eyes alone.

Medic nods, never breaking contact as his hand slides down to align them as best one could from the slightly awkward angle. No matter, they would make it work.

Heavy moans into Medic's mouth as the thick cock slides inside; the way is well-lubricated but... it has been a while since they had been together, much less like this. So a slight adjustment period is needed...

"Nnngh..." he manages, as Medic presses forwards slowly in little thrusts that join them ever closer with each rocking movement, then pauses at the sound. He forestalls the question with a hoarse, "Keep going... is good."

Medic pauses a moment more to read Heavy's face, making certain... before continuing. His hands distract and heighten, until Heavy feels he could explode from the sensation of fullness, the feeling of being so tightly bound and held.

They both gasp as Medic finally sheathes himself fully within Heavy, hips flush against the Russian's backside. The doktor shudders at the hot, sucking, intimate sensation; fingers digging into Heavy's arms as he tried to maintain his self-control.

Heavy breathes deeply, trying to remain quiet, despite the sudden urgency he felt as pleasure began to build once more throughout his large form. It made his body thrum, from the inside out, and felt absolutely amazing, yet terrible all at once...

They knew, from the start... it had been so long, and whatever happened, happened. No judgement.

"Doktor... please," he implored, quietly, and felt his Medic shift position, withdrawing slowly before thrusting back in. Slow movements, shallow, then faster, deeper... nothing loud or fierce; but enough to make their bodies sing, to make the pair feel alive and connected in that moment, in that movement.

Medic's hips snapped forwards at an increasing pace, angling each thrust to press against Heavy's prostate as best he could as the other panted. Being filled by his Doktor was overwhelming, as it always was, and Heavy pressed back with fervour as well as one could from their awkward positioning and bedding.

They clung more tightly to one another as the sensation built to fever pitch, blood pounding in their ears and sensation singing through their bones. Medic took Heavy to hand and pumped him in time with the thrusts, seeking to help the other along, knowing intimately, the look on the other's face meant he was desperately close...

And so he was.

With a litany of strangled Russian, Heavy slammed back against Medic, tight balls pulsing as his orgasm coated the Doktor's hand, and his own chest, in cum.

At that, Medic's controlled pace devolved into erratic thrusts, as Heavy's insides clutched in squeezed him anew, desperately drawing him close to the edge and throwing him over it.

Medic's cry was silent, his back arched and hips thrusting desperately as he came inside the man he loved; as Heavy, in his post orgasmic bliss, rocked with him and murmured small comforts to ground him. Who took him in his arms, when at last he came down from his high, and pressed a kiss to his brow.

When he could find words, Medic checked Heavy was satisfied and well; and the affirmative lightened his heart. He never did like disappointing his big Russian bear of a man, in any manner.

Heavy felt satiated, content and comfortable, even after they separated and had to clean themselves with spare socks. A fact that caused much silent hilarity between them.

It was comfortable, better. A release, one could say...

Medic kisses him, and he responds in kind with unspoken affection lacing his actions. There would be things to discuss tomorrow, when the harsh light of day once more beat down upon them in a world gone mad...

For now, Heavy and Medic could sleep swaddled in the arms of the man they loved. Satiated and satisfied that the other was here, alive and well, with them.

All was as it should be.

~ ~ ~

The End

Epilogue: ___________

"Oh thank fucking christ..." Sniper murmurs, tossing the pillow off of his head. Just cause those drongos thought they were being quiet and sneaky with their make-up making-out, doesn't mean they were.

Beside him, Scout snored on, oblivious. Sniper had slapped their only pair of earmuffs on the kid earlier, because he knew the runner wouldn't have taken to waking up to Medic's moans all that well.

He heard Medic murmur goodnight to Heavy; and the Russian return it in kind...

Slightly vindictively, the Aussie calls, "Yeah, goodnight you two." and grins into his pillow at the mortified gasps that elicits.

...now The End.

Yeah so... not feeling very creative today, but, i can’t disappoint cami’s request for tf2 forsaken heavy/medic make-up nsfw in the tent.

#tf2 #heavy #medic #heavymedic #camiluna #tf2 forsaken

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