A dedicated blog for the TF2 AU, Monstrous Intent. Here you'll find the fics, related art and works (both canon to the AU and non-canon), and information about the inner workings of the AU. Questions are encouraged! Avatar drawn by the elusive Daskingu, and the header image is the work of the amazing Beepiesheepie.
I thought for a long time about how to portray Pyro and uploaded a bunch of Arab references to myself, but in the end I settled on the option of the alleged Pyro model without a mask. I thought he was quite handsome and this face suits him very well. And I thought the same with the color of his fire. I thought it would be nice if his fire started turning blue in cold weather. This is a good association: if it's blue, it means it's cold. But in the context of the nature of fire, blue fire is the hottest, so I thought, "What if when it's cold, Pyro tries to generate more heat to keep warm, and if he generates more heat, then his fire turns blue! Brilliant!".
I realized that if I don't post it now, I'll never post it. Unfortunately, my personal matters and bugs in the prog just ate me up. I hope I don't get lost like this anymore. For reasons I don't understand, every time I did a coloring, the program just rolled back all my progress and in the end I was at the very beginning the last time. Frankly, I'm burned out. So that's the reason why not everything here is in color.
I'm currently drawing my first sketches of Pyro for Lightspeed's Monstrous Intent fanfic universe, and I can say that the sketch I made in literally 20 minutes is better than the one I spent a couple of days working on. Perhaps I really should work on the dynamics more. But I won't be changing the old work anymore; I'll just leave it as is and post it when I'm finished and focus on new art. If I constantly redraw it, trying to perfect it, it will simply become stagnant.
When I was reading Lightspeed's fanfic series, I was often inspired to finally pick up the pen and draw something. My first instinct was to draw Pyro. I wanted to practice painting fire and also implement some of my ideas, but they will be in the final sketch.
I've also been dreaming about comics all my life, thinking that I need to start somewhere, and I think I want to dedicate my first works in this direction to this universe. Maybe even practice drawing some spicy art.
Following Medic's rampage, the mercenaries awaken in the morning back in their normal bodies and have to deal with the fallout of everything they went through the day before, good and bad. And one additional curse that got picked up along the way.
Ao3 Link!
Part of Monstrous Intent!
Warnings: Vague descriptions of gore, discussion of cannibalism
It's finally done! Holy shit what a ride! :D Big McThankies again to my boy @beepiesheepie for being my co-conspirator on all of this, and if you want to see the art he's been doing for this fic, make sure to check it out on Ao3! And for his regular art, make sure to check out his art blog at @beepartcollection!!!
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Medic awoke to the chirping of birds and the sun shining against his eyelids, rousing him from what had to be the most restful sleep he could remember. He stretched a little, scratching at his belly—which felt comfortably full—and quickly realized he was lying on the floor.
Not just any floor, but the tile floor of a respawn room. It was then that he also noticed that he was quite wet and sticky. Blinking away the bleariness of sleep, he looked down at himself to see that he was covered in a not-insignificant amount of blood and viscera. Some relatively fresh, some dried and stuck to him, but none so recent as to be warm from anything but his own body heat. Sitting up, he looked around himself and squinted, a bit confused.
It was difficult to see past the blurriness of nearsightedness, but Medic could tell the room was filled with body parts, both identifiable and otherwise. Pieces of men were strewn everywhere in an orgy of violence that had no place anywhere in the doctor's sleep-addled memory. Chunks of meat, puddles of gore, and shards of bone littered the tiles and clogged the drain at the middle of the floor. It looked less like an abattoir and more like the inside of an industrial livestock grinder.
Medic blinked owlishly. Why was he waking up here, in such a mess? And where were his spectacles?
No matter. With a shrug he climbed carefully to his feet so as not to slip and arched back, stretching his arms, legs, back and wings satisfyingly. He flapped his wings idly, noticing that they were indeed back where they belonged, and grinned brightly at the development. His snowy white feathers would be a bit stained, but blood washes out eventually. He cast about, realizing he was also quite naked, but upon finding nothing readily available to cover himself with, shrugged and strode out of the respawn room merrily.
As he exited the structure, he noticed that he was surrounded by red buildings. "Am I on the RED side of the field? Hoo, what ever did I get up to last night?" he mused to himself with a giggle. Smiling up at the warm morning light, Medic began whistling a tune as he strode sunnily back to the BLU base, feeling fresh as a daisy.
Behind him, the remaining sea of biomass in the respawn room disappeared in a flash of red light as the RED respawn system began processing and constructing nine fresh bodies.
*
Warm, soft lips peppered Sniper's face with kisses, and he grunted and squirmed at being roused from his slumber. He felt as if he'd been run over by a bus, then the bus had turned around, grabbed a baseball bat, and clobbered him with it several times before shoving the entire thing up his ass. Pain throbbed from every part of his body, two parts in particular: one being the aforementioned orifice while the other was his right shoulder. Bright light filtered in through a nearby window, not shining in his eyes but still luminous enough to make them hurt as he finally cracked them open in a squint that took up his whole face.
The kisses ceased as a soft, mellifluous laugh caressed his ears, a gasp of gentleness that made him swiftly realize that in spite of how every muscle in his body ached like he was one big bruise and had spent the past twenty four hours at a full sprint, the strong arms of his beloved husband were wrapped around him, warm and safe. When Sniper's eyes finally focused, he saw Demoman smiling gently at him.
Gods, Sniper had missed that handsome face.
"Mornin' sunshine," Demoman soothed, giving him a measured squeeze. He cradled Sniper in his lap as he sat on the floor, his back against the wall of the team's locker room. He was careful to hold the bushman so that he lay on his hip, keeping pressure away from his bottom, which was throbbing with pain from the previous day and night's abuses. "Sleep well?"
"Feel 'alf like I wanna ask for a trip through respawn," Sniper admitted muzzily, nosing down into his husband's chest with a wince. "Everythin' hurts."
"Aye, that'll happen. Especially without the Doc around tae patch ye up. We did the best we could with the medkit," Demoman chuckled.
Sniper looked to his shoulder, expecting to see the gauze and tape he could feel, but instead found blue fabric. Looking down at himself, he realized he was wearing Demoman's uniform jumpsuit, though it was just a bit short at the ankles, where the fabric gave way to show his own human feet. He wiggled his toes for good measure.
It must have been easier than trying to dress him in his own clothing, the bomber's jumpsuit a bit baggier and less difficult to put on than a proper shirt and trousers. It was almost sweet, considering he'd been naked when they'd dragged him in, cleaned him up, and dressed his wound. He didn't need the modesty, but was given that courtesy anyway, and Sniper found his heart aflutter over how thoughtful a gesture it was.
With a sniff he replied, "Doc got me good."
"Aye, that he did, ye numpty," Demoman huffed, gently bonking his forehead against Sniper's.
Sniper recoiled, a low simmering headache throbbing out from the soft impact. "Oi, no more of that," he grumbled, rubbing at his face. "No more horns, no more headbutts."
With a snicker, Demoman gave him another squeeze. "Aye, aye. Nae danger."
Still bleary, his eyes having trouble focusing if he moved them too quickly, Sniper scanned the room. "Where's the lads?"
"Just left a bit ago. We kipped in here the night, figured it's an easier defense. Engie said somethin' about breakfast, and Heavy went tae look for Medic."
Medic. Sniper winced a little at the memory of the previous night—of what Medic had done to him—and in spite of himself felt his cock stir. He was a little horrified to realize that it hurt, his genitals actually sore from overuse. He must be one big bruise under that jumpsuit. "Speakin' of. Sorry about sneakin' out after 'im. I dunno what came over me. Like I wasn't in control of meself."
Demoman snickered. "Scared me half tae bloody death, which is nae mean feat when I was already undead," he chastised. "Ye ken he dragged ye around by the arse after he knotted ye? Slaughterin' REDs with ye trailin' on the ground still stuck on his prick! I'm surprised ye didnae prolapse yer arsehole, ye daft cunt!" All the same, he gave Sniper a gentle squeeze, mindful of his particularly sore spots. "But... in the end, I'm just glad yer safe, ye great whore. All o' this should give us a better appreciation o' Scout's self-control, eh?" With a grin, Demoman nosed into Sniper's temple, whispering beside his ear, "So. Was it everything ye wanted and more?"
Sniper winced a bit more at the husky sound of his husband's warm whisper. Oh yes, definitely bruised down there. All the same, he turned to nose in at Demoman's cheek. "Yeh, nah. Not really."
"Really?!" Demoman asked, reeling back in surprise.
Sniper shrugged his good shoulder. "Wasn't with you," he said plainly, meeting his husband's eye with a warm smile.
Demoman scoffed and shoved him out of his lap with a laugh. "Aye, sure, ye great liar! Get it up ye, flatterin' me like it'll get ye out o' trouble!"
With a groan, Sniper tumbled to the floor in a heap, laughing in spite of how much it hurt. "Did it almost work?"
"Aye," Demoman chuckled, reaching over to take Sniper's hand, threading their fingers together. "Almost."
*
Glowing yellow eyes reflected in the bathroom mirror, set in a face made of solid, smokeless fire. Blue eyeshadow, now smudged, coated flaming eyelids and faded as it approached eyebrows burning darker, but still wrought of the same fire. Foundation, bronzer, blush—all for the warm tones of tawny skin that no longer existed—clung to features they had once accentuated, now instead looking clownish; face paint, a parody of beauty. Curls burning in blacks and deep ashen reds hung about that face, spilling over fiery shoulders even as they were still partially held in a pair of now-lopsided buns with fraying braids around them and tied with blue ribbons, which dangled disheveled from sleep.
Pyro stared at himself. It felt good to be himself again. It felt right. The world was bright and beautiful and multilayered again, and his body danced in place and hummed with magic.
Still, he stared at the art upon his face, in his hair, his body the canvas of those sweet ladies at the salon, who showed him such kindness. He would never go back there. He could never tell them how his man had reacted to his makeover.
His lip quivered as he wet a washcloth the sink and added soap, lathering it up between his hands—where the periwinkle of his nail polish stood in stark, ugly contrast to the red, orange, and yellow of his hands. Making eye contact with himself again, he tried to ignore the tears that welled in his eyes as he began to wipe away his makeup.
Pyro tried not to let the isolation get to him most of the time. He'd grown used to it, after all. It had been a few thousand years since the wedge had been driven between the people he'd watched grow up from a fresh species, emerging from its predecessors more clever and dexterous, using those advantages to build ever more intricate societies and bonds, and increase their footprint on the red earth of their youth. Since the wind god with aspirations had, enraged by their dismissal of His demand for recognition, declared his own people unlawful, and demanded His children no longer consort with them. Since the vivacious creatures Pyro so loved to make music and art and love with turned away from him, called him and those like him evil, and lumped the horns and flames of their former friends in with actual fiends.
Since he'd learned that horns and flames were indeed marks of evil in so many places the world over. Even outside His influence. Even among monsters.
He missed the songs and dancing. He missed the drawing, the painting, the pottery and sculpting. He missed the stories told around campfires and meals, the spinning of legend and embellished tales of mundane life; the jokes and laughter.
For just a little while, he got to have it back. Inspiring those ladies to use him as their canvas, telling stories together, joking and sharing joy. He didn't have to worry about someone finding out what he was. He didn't have to worry about the wrong person walking in. He didn't have to worry about being rejected and persecuted if he stepped out of line. He got to just be a person again, making art and happiness with humans, like he always loved.
He wiped tears from his cheeks along with blush, scrubbing slowly at his face unblinkingly.
"It's a shame when you find a good stylist and end up not being able to return, isn't it?"
Pyro sighed, setting down the washcloth as he stared into the mirror. "Oh. Hey, Spy."
With the soft hiss of an invis-watch deactivating, Spy faded into view in the mirror, leaning against the wall behind Pyro. He smiled softly, watching his friend's sullen face. "Bonjour. My apologies for intruding, but I had a feeling you might want some company this morning."
"Not really," Pyro replied, wetting the cloth and resuming wiping his face, trying not to think about how long the rogue may have been there watching him. "I'm just cleaning up."
Spy's smile grew sad, his eyes soft as they locked on Pyro's in the mirror. "I'm sorry you have to lose what you had yesterday," he said simply.
With a deep breath, Pyro blinked away tears. "Yeah, me too." As he finished washing his face, he set down the cloth and turned his attention to his hair. It was messy and rumpled from where he'd laid his head on Engineer's chest as the team had slept in the locker room, hiding from Medic overnight. He began to untie one of his ribbons.
"You know," Spy began, pushing off of the wall to round on his friend and pluck the ribbon from his fingers. "It's been about a hundred years or so now, but I was once a geisha in Kyoto. Though in those days it was just called Kyo."
"Really?" Pyro asked, looking to Spy in surprise. The rogue rarely spoke of his past to anyone.
"Oui. It was before I moved to Europe. In fact, getting to meet Dutch traders was why I took the apprenticeship in the first place. Europe sounded like a fantasy, beautiful and exotic. Paris and her lights lived in my mind and my heart long before I even set foot on her streets." He chuckled softly, and set the ribbon beside the sink, then untied the other and placed it with its twin. Stepping behind Pyro, he tugged his gloves off and pocketed them, bare hands busying themselves with undoing Pyro's braids and buns as he spoke. "My apprenticeship was relatively short, all things considered. Most girls take far longer and start far younger, but most girls didn't have almost two centuries of experience in manipulating people as a foundation to work from." He hummed smugly as Pyro's hair fell loose once again, and smoothed his hands through the djinni's hair.
A genuine smile briefly alighted upon his lips as Pyro's eyes fell closed and he relaxed into the sensation. It gave Spy a chance to withdraw the combs he'd brought in his jacket pocket. Pyro jolted a little at the sensation of the wider-toothed comb dragging through his fiery locks, eyes snapping open to see the kitsune behind him busily focused on the flames in his hands.
They didn't quite behave like actual hair, dancing about in his grasp and blending back together into one mass at any opportunity, but it didn't tangle, which was all that Spy was particularly concerned about. If it could maintain the shapes of curls, it could maintain other shapes, and that was enough for him.
"Once I was allowed to become a maiko—a working geisha in training—I spent two years doing my own makeup and hair in the most time-consuming manner every day, in addition to wearing flashy, elaborate clothing that required assistance to don and ridiculously tall shoes," Spy explained. "You know, once a geisha graduates to geiko, the final rank, they're allowed to wear wigs. No need to do such elaborate styles with your own hair every day once you've earned the right, thankfully. But until then I had to style my own hair in ware-shinobu and later ofuku every day. As such, I did get quite handy with combs, ribbons, and pins."
Spy parted Pyro's hair and separated out two large strips of curls at the front of his head, gathered the rest at the back and combed it up into a high ponytail. He held it in one hand, sliding the comb into his breast pocket. Making eye contact with Pyro in the mirror, he fanned his fingers out and in a flourish, seemed to pull a large hair tie from nowhere. He used it to secure the ponytail, and set about wrapping it around the base of the tie into a messy, fluffy, curly bun.
"My okami ended up putting me in charge of teaching the other girls at the okiya how to style their hair. I think she wanted to keep me humble, since I was excelling so quickly," Spy snorted. "Which: fair enough, really."
Pyro smiled, giggling softly at that. "Keeping you humble would require you to be humble in the first place. I can't imagine that."
"Don't worry, mon ami. I haven't changed that much. I wasn't humble then, either. I was just incentivized to pretend I was."
That had Pyro barking a laugh. "I bet you were a beautiful geisha."
"Quite a few men seemed to think so," Spy mused, thinking fondly of one in particular. With another flourish he held up a few bobby pins from what seemed like nowhere and secured Pyro's messy bun, fiery curls spilling out around it playfully. Gentle hands on the djinni's shoulders turned him around, and Spy grabbed the ribbons from the sink and set to work braiding them into the curls he'd combed away before, nimble fingers working quickly.
"So, no different from now," Pyro said, catching Spy's eyes with a grin.
"You're a shameless flirt," Spy snorted, taking one of the bands that held Pyro's buns to tie off the braid and begin on the other side.
"And you're an incredibly thoughtful, sweet one," Pyro replied warmly.
Spy's fingers faltered for a moment, and he dropped the braid with a curse, snatching it back up and fussing to keep it from unweaving. "Such a shame, you're delirious from getting so little sleep."
Pyro smirked, saying nothing as Spy finished his task and tied off the braid, then brought them both back to pin the ends into his bun. He stepped back, regarding his handiwork for a moment, then reached into his breast pocket and withdrew a pin and tucked it into Pyro's bun, nodding with satisfaction.
"The pain of losing the chance to walk among humans again must be great, and even the monstrous world can be fraught for someone so rare and beautiful as yourself," Spy said, tilting the djinni's chin up with a gentle finger. "But despair doesn't suit you. Now, take a look."
Spy gestured to the mirror, and Pyro turned to look at himself, tears springing to his eyes in spite of himself. Blue ribbons threaded through black and dark red flames, braids that circled his head like a crown and joined the messy bun that sat atop the back of his head, stray curls bouncing with his movements and dancing in their own fiery way. A decorative hairpin stuck out from the side of his bun, bearing a glass cherry blossom at its end with a few delicate silver chains ending in lilac-coloured beads dangling from the flower. "Spy..."
"We may be few, but you have community here. In monsters and men. All of whom would and do gladly take you as you are. And none of us is unique. Where there are few, there surely are more. After all, you met several at the company gala, did you not?"
"Yeah," Pyro replied softly, sniffling as he rubbed the tears from his eyes. "You're right."
"If only everyone would realize that," Spy chuckled, his hands still on Pyro's shoulders. He gave him a squeeze as Pyro broke down in a laugh, grinning along with him.
"But then how would you brag when you get proven right after everyone tells you you're wrong? I think you'd die without being able to give out I Told You Sos."
Pursing his lips in mock offense, Spy squinted down at the grinning djinni, both amused and bemused at being read so efficiently for filth. "Much like you'd die without being able to needle somebody about something during your day."
"See? We get each other," Pyro laughed.
Spy let out an exaggerated sigh to accompany an even more exaggerated eyeroll. "Tragically so, it seems."
With a grin, Pyro tilted up onto his toes, wrapping his arms around the taller man's neck and tugging him down for a kiss. Spy met him comfortably, his arms slipping around the djinni's sides to pull him into a warm embrace. When their lips parted, Pyro nosed in against Spy with a contented sigh. "Thanks, Spy."
"Think nothing of it, Hotaru," Spy hummed, his hand coming to rest at the small of Pyro's back. "It wouldn't do to let such a beautiful man cry. Smiles suit you far better."
Pyro couldn't help but smile at that, and kissed Spy again, hugging him tightly before finally letting go.
"Come, now. Your dear lover should have breakfast ready by now," Spy hummed, releasing the djinni in turn.
Pyro nodded and turned, heading for the door. "You think we wasted enough time to dodge having to help move the rest of the furniture back inside?"
"Hopefully, though it may still be best for you to use your cleaning spell on the couch. I'd rather not accidentally sit in dried semen."
"Kinda feel like that's always a risk with our couches."
"Touché."
*
Engineer took a deep sniff of the mug in his hand, the warm aroma of coffee filling his nose and making everything feel like it was gonna be right as rain. His other hand held the handle of a spatula, which he was using to wrassle around a pan full of breakfast potatoes atop the stove, flanked by a pan of frying eggs with another sizzling up some bacon on the back burner. Things were finally back to normal, and he couldn't be happier. While the experience had certainly been novel—and helped him understand a little more about Pyro's side of the world—he was glad that it had been temporary. Permanently being a fluffy, stumpy little three-tailed talking fox who had to put effort into being man-shaped would be a hell of an annoying fate, and he'd found it more than a little challenging while it had lasted.
It was nice of the fellas to step up and help him figure it out, though. Even if that had been a pain in the ass of its own. Magic was interesting, but it was definitely something he wouldn't just be able to feel his way through. It wasn't something he found himself particularly driven to pursue in the same vein as Medic, though now that he understood it at least a little better, maybe it helped him understand the prosthetics he'd been building a little better too.
Either way, it was nice to be a self-made man again. Engineer set the spatula aside and used the Gunslinger to grab his cast iron pan from the stove and move it to a trivet, not worried about a pot holder in his metal grip.
He'd swap hands to something more fashionable later. Maybe show Sniper what that hand's vibrate function could do.
He snickered and took a sip of coffee, then set it down beside the potatoes.
Poor Sniper, the man probably couldn't walk. He'd have to get some jokes at the former faun's expense primed now so that they'd be ready to go when he had the chance to roast him.
"Hey Sol, can you start gettin' these taters plated up? Bacon n' eggs'll be up in a jiff."
Soldier looked up from where he sat at the table, his neck twisted in the general direction of the battlefield even though there was no way to see outside from back in mess. He'd been waiting expectantly since Heavy had left, almost eerily silent.
The dullahan hadn't awakened with a head. After all, he hadn't removed it with his collar before going to bed the night this all began, so it came with him when he'd become a djinni. So this morning he awoke in his natural form: headless and undead. He'd seemed ill at ease about the whole thing.
When Soldier didn't reply, Engineer ventured again, "Sol? Partner?"
Soldier's neck swayed to and fro as though he were shaking his head and turned toward the Texan. "What's taking him so long?"
"Who?"
"Heavy. I asked him to bring me a head if there's anything left of the REDs. I need one. Everything's too numb."
Engineer's brow furrowed. "Too numb? Yesterday weren't everythin' too much?"
"It was," Soldier confirmed. "Pyro's body's always moving, and colours are more and lights are more and everything is more. Sounds have more depth to them and if you use your eyes wrong you can see into other layers of reality." He shrugged. "Or at least that's what Pyro said I was seeing. Felt like I was hallucinating half the time."
"Pyro's explained that to me. Sometimes he likes to do that when he's upset. Sorta... check outta this reality for a spell. You didn't do that at all yesterday."
"No. I do not run from my problems. Pyro should not either."
Engineer sighed a little. "Wish it were always that easy."
"It is when you're not a coward, and I know Pyro is not a coward. He just needs to realize it!"
"Sure 'nough," Engineer admitted with half a shrug. "So bein' a djinni was all kinds o' sound n' fury, n' now it's the opposite?"
"Everything's a lot... quieter. Cooler. More numb. More dead. I feel the big things, which is fine because I do big things. But when I've got a head on, things are a little closer to what you feel because my body fakes being human then, so it feels more human."
"And right now goin' from one extreme to the other's throwin' you for a loop."
"Affirmative."
"Well, hopefully the big guy's got a new noggin for you, 'cause I'm just realizin' I made a servin' for you too n' I'd hate it to go to waste," Engineer said, scratching his stubbly scalp in realization.
"Enough coffee for me too?"
"You betcha."
Soldier hopped up from his seat and grabbed the pan of potatoes and a serving spoon, and set to doling out portions on the nine plates set out on the counter. "Oorah."
*
Trotting down from the porch of the RED farmhouse, Medic stopped, arching an eyebrow at a large swath of soil stained a deep, blackish red with quite a bit of dried blood. Judging by the colour it had been oxidizing there for hours. The RED respawn machine had to have been working overtime to have not picked up biomass this old.
He crouched down to inspect the dirt, clumped together into bloody mud, though long dry by this point. It crumbled between his fingers as he picked some up, making him pout in thought.
He remembered the blood here, pooling in the dust, black in the dark, red under moonlight, and tasted iron. The echoes of screams rang in his head, and the wet crunching and slurping of a visceral feast. Somewhere in his mind, Sniper's whimpers accompanied it.
He bit his lip, staring now into the middle distance as everything came back to him in waves, fresh ripples across the still water of his mind washing fresh memory onto the shores of his consciousness. He remembered gunfire, wide eyes and wild screams, terror and horror and unrestrained violence and manic glee.
Medic laid a hand on his belly as he stood back up, suddenly feeling very queasy as the contents of his stomach ceased to agree with him. "Hm. Well. That's probably not good," he tittered as more and more detail of the previous night came back to him, piercing the haze of morning. "Hopefully I avoided any brain matter. Though I wonder how different the species gap is between werewolf and human. Are spongiform encephalopathies transmissible between them?" he mused aloud. "Seems poor design for a creature almost guaranteed to eat people every now and again."
"Doktor!" Heavy's voice cut across the quiet battlefield, catching Medic's ear and attention.
"Heavy!" he chirped, jogging toward the sound to find the giant just about to round the control point shack.
"Doktor! There you are! You are hurt!" Heavy gasped, seeing his lover covered in blood and little bits of viscera still clinging to him.
Medic waved him off with a chuckle, "Ach, nein, nein. I am fine, Schatz. This blood isn't mine, I assure you."
With a sigh of relief, Heavy wrapped his arms around Medic in a crushing hug. "Glad you are okay. I was worried when you did not return at dawn."
"What time is it?" Medic asked, returning the hug and casting a glance to the sky, where the sun was still low in the sky.
"Sun has been up for maybe an hour," Heavy replied. "It is around six. But you have not missed breakfast."
Medic nosed into Heavy's neck and placed a kiss there. "I think I'll skip breakfast," he said with a soft chuckle. "I'm quite full, though my stomach is feeling a bit tender."
With a roll of his eyes, Heavy shook his head. "I wonder why this is."
"Who could say?" Medic chirped.
A soft sigh left Heavy's nose, but he was honestly just glad to have Medic back safe, sound, and back to normal, stained as his wings may be. "Come along, Doktor. We get you cleaned up and dressed. Your glasses are in quarters, on night stand. Can get medicine for stomach. Should also use medigun on Sniper."
"Oh! Oh yes, is he alright? I was quite rough with him, wasn't I? Though I'm sure he liked it well enough."
The sight of Sniper's limp body, bleeding and leaking semen, being brought back to base in Scout's arms popped into Heavy's mind along with the runner's radio commentary about the bushman being dragged across the battlefield by the knotted cock in his ass. Heavy sniffed thoughtfully. "He is fine."
*
"Hey, look what the wolf dragged in!" Scout teased, he finishing putting the furniture back into place as Demoman carried Sniper into the rec room and gingerly deposited him on the couch to lay on his side. "How you feelin', Snipes?"
"Didn't know it was possible to bruise your prick from overuse but here we are," Sniper grumbled, feeling worse the longer he was awake.
"Ye'll live," Demoman teased warmly. "I'll go get ye a blanket tae cozy up with. Brekkie should be up soon, and I'll bring yer plate in here tae eat, so ye dinnae need tae sit." He pressed a kiss to Sniper's forehead and ruffled his hair lovingly before he left.
"Couldn't sit if I tried," Sniper mumbled once Demoman had gone, rolling onto his belly and planting his face in the couch cushion.
"You good?" Scout asked, plopping down on the couch beside his friend's head. "'Cause you don't look so good."
"Been worse. Been a lot better, too," Sniper grumbled into the cushion. "Woke up okay aside from the bite wound and the sore arse and the aching dick and the bruised rest of me, but more and more I'm feelin'... 'opless, like. Like nothin'll ever compare to yesterday, like what's the point? Like I wanna crawl into me ute and hide from everythin' like a wounded bloody animal."
"Oh, you're droppin'!" Scout replied brightly. "That makes sense, I mean you basically spent all 'a yesterday in a horny haze an' all. Faun senses, combined with faun sex drive, combined with faun wait time between orgasms—which is to say basically none—combined with rut heightenin' all that, plus gettin' railed stupid by a werewolf on top 'a that, yeah that's gonna drain you freakin' dry, man."
"Might be a few days before I can even think about comin', sure."
"Not your nuts, asshole," Scout snorted. "I'm talkin' your brain! Engie explained it to me one time, since e's usually a little rough with me. An' especially after somethin' real intense, like that time 'e put me out for free use, after it's all said an' done I kinda get real freakin' sad an' overwhelmed an' I dunno why, since I'd just had the best time 'a my life an' all. It's called Drop, an' it's part 'a why 'e's real good about all that aftercare stuff. Basically your brain's makin' all kinds 'a good chemicals to make you feel good an' react to how good your body's feelin' an' stuff. That high you get when you're just in heaven gettin' fucked or doin' the fuckin'. An' if it's real intense or goes on for real long or whatever your brain gets a little addicted. So when you're done and you're comin' down an' it ain't makin' those chemicals like crazy anymore, your brain don't like that an' makes you feel like shit until it levels out."
Sniper huffed out a soft sound somewhere between a laugh and a sigh. He wasn't sure whether he was impressed or depressed that Scout of all people was explaining this to him. "So I spent all yesterday floodin' me brain with good chemicals and now I'm payin' the price."
"Like a horniness hangover," Scout chuckled, patting Sniper's head gently.
Sniper sighed, turning his head to the side to free his face of the cushion. "Crikey."
"C'mon, dummy," Scout bade, patting his furry thigh. "Lay your head on me. A little tenderness'll help 'til Demo gets back."
With some wriggling and wincing as his body fought him every step of the way, Sniper did as he was asked, pitching onto his undamaged shoulder to lay his head in Scout's lap. When the faun's nimble fingers began to sift through his hair and scratch gently at his scalp, a sigh left his nose, his lips curling into the barest half-smile.
"So, how was it?"
"Bein' a faun?"
"Yeah! Bein' a garuda was pretty neat. The third eyelids were weird an' I ain't used to havin' feet let alone freakin' talons, but flyin' was tons 'a fun! It was wicked easy too, dunno what Doc's problem was."
"Don't let him hear you say that."
"Fuckin' A," Scout laughed. "But the whole time I ended up really missin' bein' a faun. I mean, this is me now. I'm used to it. And I like it. It feels right, especially now that I got it all figured out. So I'm glad to be back in my own skin. Havin' all my senses back an' bein' horny all the time feels like comin' home."
"You were awful sulky at the party."
"Can you blame me? That was supposed to be me gettin' sandwiched between everybody an' gettin' casual handies while we're sittin' around shootin' the shit! I'd been lookin' forward to it all month! You'd be pissy too if you weren't the one gettin' all that play."
"Fair," Sniper chuckled.
"So did you like it?"
Sniper thought about the previous day, about all of his sexual escapades, about how powerfully he felt every bit of pleasure, and when pain mingled with it how mind-blowingly potent it had all been. "Mate, it was bloody aces. Strewth, up there among the best days of me life," he replied finally, dreamily.
Scout snickered at that, teasing through Sniper's hair. "Think you got a new retirement plan lined up?"
"Yeh, nah."
"For real? Why not?"
"What about Tavish?"
"What about Tavish?" Scout asked, squinting in confusion down at him.
Sniper looked up at Scout, squinting in return, looking downright offended. "What, you expect me to just decide to outlive 'im like it's nothin'? Just become immortal and watch the love of me life grow old and die?"
"Man, you are out of it," Scout mused. "Why couldn't he do it too?"
"First, that's a lot, expectin' a bloke to change what 'e is for you like it's nothin'. Second, I don't even know if 'e could. He's a werewolf. Doubt there's precedent for that ritual changin' anyone but a human. And we know 'e can't curse you since only humans can get the curse."
"Okay, fair, but we don't know shit about the ritual anyway except that it requires a lotta fuckin' an' some fancy magic wine, right? For all we know if I found out what to do an' got the right stuff I could turn everyone into weirdass fauns. Spy might be stuck all foxy from the waist down or some shit, who knows." Scout snickered. "Man, he'd straight up murder me, boyfriend or no."
"Fair dinkum," Sniper agreed. "Besides, why're you askin' me this heavy shit? You don't know thing one about that ritual, and aren't you tryin' to help me relax and rest and feel better, not stress me out makin' me think about me boyfriend's mortality?"
"Okay, yeah, good point," Scout conceded, going back to scratching Sniper's scalp. "Sorry."
"No worries," Sniper grunted, settling back down. They settled into silence for a few moments, thoughts eating at Sniper's mind until he finally rejoined, "D'you think he'd go for it?"
Scout barked a laugh. "Man, he goes for every other cockamamie scheme you come up with, don't 'e? I'm pretty sure 'e's signed on for life, pal. Honestly I'm surprised a big dumb romantic like Demo ain't already popped the question or somethin', the way you two lovebirds are."
A soft laugh huffed out of Sniper as he rubbed his pinky against the tattoo on his ring finger. "Strewth."
*
Fresh from the locker room and a hot shower, Medic giggled as Heavy held the door to the base open for him, hooting out a little yelp of surprise as the giant swatted at his towel-covered bottom on the way.
"I'm going to get dressed and go find something to settle my stomach," Medic said, rubbing his backside with a smile.
"Will get breakfast. You want coffee?"
"Ja, bitte. Thank you, Schatz," Medic replied warmly, giving the giant a peck on the cheek and making for the dormitory hallway, his talons clicking on the creaky wooden floor as he went.
As Heavy entered mess, Soldier immediately dropped the empty potato pan in the sink and charged over to him. "Did you get me a head?!"
"No," Heavy replied with a shake of his head. "Found Doktor in middle of field. Probably no parts left too."
"Dammit. Well, time for plan B." Soldier rushed past Heavy, headed for the rec room. "Scout! I will pay you twenty dollars to let me behead you!"
Heavy sighed as he heard a counter offer of, "Fifty!" from the other room.
"Guess there won't be leftovers after all," Engineer chuckled, plating up the eggs. "Doc doin' alright?"
"Doktor is fine," Heavy replied with a half-shrug. "Found him walking across field naked and covered in blood."
"Ah, so in his natural element."
"Yes," Heavy chuckled. "He is clean now and dressing. Say he has upset stomach."
"Get the feelin' from what Scout said the feller treated the REDs like an all-you-can-maul buffet," Engineer chuckled. "Dunno how to feel about that, if I'm honest."
"It is Herbert," Heavy reasoned. "This is how he is."
"Fair, but bein' that he's a man o' medicine 'n all, I think sometimes it might be a little too easy to forget just how bloodthirsty our dear doctor can be."
Heavy grinned. "Maybe you forget."
Engineer chuckled at that. "Shoot, it's what made you fall for the feller, ain't it?"
"This and his perfect ass."
"He does have a great ass, don't he?"
*
Once Medic had returned and Demoman had pestered him to heal Sniper, the team sat down to breakfast at the mess table, plates heaped with food and mugs steaming with coffee soothing what remaining aches and sleepless grumpiness had remained from the night prior. The room filled with the bright chatter of nine mercenaries relieved to be back to what they considered to be normal.
"So, Doc, I take it ye had fun?" Demoman teased, a strip of bacon between pinched fingers to aid in some light gesticulating.
"Yes, it was a fascinating experience! The raw power at my disposal, the wildly enhanced senses, the complete lack of impulse control!"
"Think that's more you than the werewolf," Scout muttered under his breath, fresh from respawn with a crumpled fifty dollar bill in his pocket. Soldier snickered beside him, nearly snorting coffee into the nose of his freshly donned head.
"I know I had a bloody great time with it," Sniper added with a self-satisfied smirk, giving the doctor a short waggle of his eyebrows.
"I can definitely say the same, mein Freund," Medic agreed with a sultry grin in reply. "Ach, thank goodness you weren't human at the time, what with me biting you, though."
"I've got me magic necklace to prevent that anyway, so no worries," Sniper said, tugging his wolf fang necklace out from under the jumpsuit he wore.
"Ah, does Demoman bite you often then?"
Blushing, Demoman tried to ignore a few grins thrown his way by the other mercenaries and focused on buttering his toast.
"Sometimes, not quite like that, though," Sniper chuckled. "But since the curse's sexually transmitted too, I gotta 'ave it 'n all."
Heavy dropped his fork in surprise. "Curse is sexually transmitted?"
"Nah, yeh, but seein' as I'm the only 'uman Tav's shagged like tha—" Sniper stopped as he remembered hearing Heavy's wails of pleasure and pain through the wall the night before, followed by a fully werewolf Medic bursting out of the base. "Ah, bugger."
"But wait, you're only half-human, right?" Scout asked.
Demoman sighed, "Let us see yer teeth, lad."
Eyes wide in a mixture of fear and confusion, Heavy obeyed, parting his lips to show his teeth, looking almost like some form of simian threat display as he revealed a set of much sharper and larger canine teeth than normal. "Hnn?"
Sniper sighed, scrubbing his hands over his face. "Fuck me dead, why didn't I give someone else the bloody necklace for the night?"
"So Heavy is going to be a werewolf?" Medic asked, trying and failing to show his excitement at the prospect.
"Do not want to be werewolf!"
"Ye said it, lad."
"Calm down, you lot!" Sniper sighed, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. "It's curable so long as you get it handled before the first transformation."
"How do we do this?"
"Well, when I caught it—" "You caught it?" Medic asked, surprised.
"When Tav and I shagged that first time. Got the necklace after that."
"Ah yes, and do tell us where you obtained that cure and necklace?" Spy asked, lips against the rim of his coffee cup as he watched the commotion with amusement.
"Er... I bought 'em from Merasmus."
"I'm sure he'll be delighted to see his favourite customer again so soon."
*
"Yes, yes, Merasmus is coming!" Merasmus hollered as he stormed through the still-trashed foyer of his castle, yet another volley of loud, forceful knocks echoing through the stone structure and exacerbating the wizard's stress headache.
It had taken him all night to just get the library back in order and calm Monoculus down, and now some noisy nincompoop had started pounding on his door the moment he'd finally taken a break to sit down with some tea. It had better not be cold by the time he got back, or so help him, Merasmus would wreak havoc upon the insufferable interloper insistently intruding upon his domicile!
When at last he reached the door, he threw it open with a flourish, robes fluttering in the breeze it created, bellowing, "What is it you demand of Merasmus the Magician?!" only to deflate upon laying eyes upon his callers with a flat, muttered, "Oh."
Upon his doorstep stood Sniper and Heavy, the former slouching with infuriating casualness, the other glaring flatly with the placid disdain of a man who did not want to deal with this almost as much as Merasmus himself.
With his most affable smile, Sniper tugged at the brim of his hat with a bright, "G'day, Meras—"
The door slammed shut.
"Ah, bugger," Sniper huffed, his voice muffled from behind the door.
Merasmus scowled, his gut nearly wrenching as he fought back the urge to vomit his soul from his body and rain Hell upon the presumptuous mercenaries at his door. He couldn't escape these miserable cretins! Couldn't they just leave him in peace for one blasted day?! "Begone! Merasmus has no time for you jackanapes!" The wizard turned and began stalking back the way he came, his already poor mood gone from sour to curdled.
"This is stupid. Hold my boots," Heavy grunted.
Merasmus paused as he felt a sudden wash of magic and turned to the door in horror to see a green glow seeping through its cracks for a long moment before it disappeared and the door promptly flew off of its hinges with a thump and a crash. It slammed to the floor, punched out of its frame by a now fully-jotun Heavy, who stood on the porch mostly naked, his clothing shredded to tatters by the sudden jump in size. Sniper whooped out a laugh beside him, the giant's boots dangling from his fingers by their laces.
With a shriek, Merasmus recoiled, half shielding his sight from the giant's startlingly disproportionate lower anatomy, half preparing to fight or flee even as he mostly just froze in shock and fear. "My door!" he sputtered out lamely.
"Sell me magic potion," Heavy demanded, trudging inside with Sniper ambling after him.
"Er, after all, it does seem like you might be in a bit of a need of a cash injection, based on what 'appened last night, mate," the bushman added.
"What in the Hells are you talking about?!" Merasmus barked, a green glow overtaking his eyes as he floated off of the floor to meet Heavy's height, if not his size.
"Sniper tell me you can cure werewolf," Heavy clarified, coming to a halt and staring the wizard down. "I want to buy this cure."
"The curse is done," Merasmus dismissed. "Your Medic is no longer a werewolf, just as you are no longer human with machine parts. And even if the curse remained on him, it would be incurable, like for Mundy's... mate." He afforded the bushman a quick sneer. "Once a werewolf transforms the curse is permanent."
"Not Doktor. Me," Heavy replied, baring his teeth in a snarl.
Merasmus recoiled, eyes widening as he realized that, indeed, this jotun had unusually large and sharp canine teeth. "How—no. Spare me the lurid details. I'm sure I know exactly how. Unsurprising that Mundy's team behaves the same as he does." His face pinched up in disgust. "Like a troop of bonobos, I'm sure."
"I am not here to be judged by wizard who lets himself be kidnapped by human gangsters," Heavy shot back, his nostrils flaring.
"If you want my assistance you'll be judged as harshly as—GHK!" Merasmus' retort was cut off as Heavy calmly reached forward and snatched him by the neck in one massive hand, dragging him over until their noses touched, glowing blue eyes meeting glowing green.
"Sell me werewolf cure. Or I break all of your ribs one by one, leave you on floor alive, and come back on full moon to tear the pieces out of your body with teeth."
Merasmus held Heavy's gaze for a long moment before a sheepish smile spread across his face. "Well, why didn't you say so?" he croaked. "If you'll just accompany me to my library we can get you sorted, my fine, massive friend!"
*
"Here, drink this," Merasmus huffed, stirring a bottle full of liquid and powdered silver with an animal bone. He set the bone aside and thrust the bottle into Heavy's hand in annoyance, looking in frustration to where Sniper reclined in one of his library's large green leather chairs, sipping on his cup of tea.
With a frown, Heavy did as instructed, upending the bottle and chugging down its contents, swallowing every drop and trying not to gag at the metallic taste. When it was done, he handed the bottle back briskly. "This will cure me?"
"Open your mouth."
Heavy did as instructed, and watched warily as Merasmus inspected his teeth. Before the wizard's eyes they shrank back down to reasonable size and shape, making the jotun's gums itch as his teeth shifted back to their normal place.
"You're going to be fine," Merasmus replied with a nod, turning to put the bottle down on a table. "Before you ask, I don't have any more amulets like Mundy has, so if you want to continue... dalliances like this, I'd advise using that magic ring you have to protect yourself by not being human for it."
"Being jotun will protect me?"
"Only humans can contract lycanthropy. Or half-humans in your case, I suppose," Merasmus explained with distaste.
Heavy's lip twisted in annoyance, and Sniper hopped to his feet as he watched the giant's fists clench to prepare for another outburst. He pulled out his wallet and dug out a fistful of bills, holding them out to the wizard. "Right, well, that's all we needed today, I think. Five thousand enough for an emergency call, Merasmus?"
"Five thousand. After what I've suffered this weekend five million wouldn't suffice!"
"If you don't want me money that's fi—"
Merasmus snatched the money from Sniper's hand. "Five thousand is fine, Mundy. Now if you'll excuse me, I have places to be. So kindly get out of my library and out of my castle," he urged, rushing them to the exit of the extradimensional space.
As they stepped out into the castle hall, Sniper turned, "Places to be? Dodgin' someone else, now?"
"Yes!" Merasmus hissed. "You nine! Now leave my castle!!!" He huffed, "You know the way out," and slammed the door to the library. His voice came muffled from behind the door. "I cast Teleport to Cancún!"
Medic's werewolf rampage continues, and poor RED Scout has managed to set the beast's sights on him! Things don't look good, and they're about to get even worse! Meanwhile, Sniper is still knotted, and taken along for the ride, but he's so far gone it's probably not that big a deal for him at this point.
Ao3 Link!
Part of Monstrous Intent!
Warnings: Violence, Gore, Cannibalism
---------
"INCOMING!"
Scout's sneakers dug into the dusty gravel of the battlefield as he turned and ran, his legs feeling like they were falling out from under him as he bolted past the shack at the centre of the field where the inactive control point lay. He barely registered his voice as his own as he screamed again and again, half trying to alert his team, half crying out in terror. Behind him, he could hear the wolf's approach, waltzing thumps gaining with startling speed.
Thump thump thump
Thump thump thump
Thump thump thump
Running on two feet and one hand, hunched over and clutching the boneless faun still speared upon his knotted phallus, the black wolf dashed out of the farmhouse and gave chase, hot on the human's heels. Growling, the great beast snuffled out sounds like laughter between his panting breaths, bloody saliva dripping from his tongue as it lolled from his mouth.
Thump thump thump
Thump thump thump
Thump thump thump
Scout could feel the hammering of his heart in his chest stutter, as if trying to match the rhythm of the monster's fell footfalls. If he could just get through his own team's farmhouse, he'd be surrounded by his comrades, who had damned well better be armed by this point. They could put up a defense, blast the creature with enough ordinance to put anything down. Sure, the BLU Sniper—whatever he was now—would be cut down in the ensuing chaos, but surely that had to be a better fate than what he endured now, right?
Scout had interrupted the beast in the middle of both eating and, oh God, mating with him! And even now he was still there, still impaled on the creature's cock even as it pursued him! Not even a reprieve from his suffering, bleeding and ravaged! Even for a team full of fruits, that had to be some kind of horror beyond comprehension, right?
He just had to get there. He just had to make it to the porch. He just had to—
Pain, sharp and hot ripped in an arc across his back as claws raked through his skin with little effort. He tried to push through, but the wolf was on him. That same hand shot out and caught his ankle, stopping him dead as he slammed face-first to the ground with a thud. Scout cried out, rolling to see the wolf approach slowly, his bloody maw grinning, pale eyes too-wide with sheer excitement, as it yanked him closer across the dirt, grinding gravel into his fresh wounds.
In his arm, still knotted, Sniper moaned out gibberish, slack in his grasp. Blood seeped from his shoulder, dripping onto Scout as the wolf towered over him. With a grunt, Medic dropped Sniper to the ground beside Scout, the faun's legs spread wide, his hole still twitching as it held onto the wolf inside of it.
Scout looked in horror to the man beside him, then back at the wolf, whimpering as he brought his hands up to shield his face. But with both of his hands free, Medic snatched him by the wrists and pulled them away, pinning the younger man to the ground. With more of that horrible, snuffling laughter, he sniffed at Scout's neck and laid a lick there. He could feel his pulse pounding under his skin. Tears began to well in Scout's eyes. Was he going to have the same fate as that Sniper?
"HELP!" he screamed, kicking, struggling, arching away from the wolf and trying anything he could to break free. "GUYS! HELP! HELP ME, PLEASE!"
The wolf opened his jaws and closed them around Scout's neck.
"No, please, nonononono—"
Teeth pierced skin, then muscle, and more. Medic bit down, and with a jerk of his head, tore Scout's throat out, silencing the young man.
Scout gurgled, eyes wide as tears spilled down the sides of his face. He gawped, trying to breathe but failing as the only thing he accomplished was a soft wet burbling, his lungs filled with blood and nothing else, arterial spray and the black of the beast's fur filling his rapidly blurring vision. The pain was almost too much to register, nerves firing while his brain stopped trying to decode them, terror and panic already dominating the last of its failing reserves of oxygen. Before consciousness truly left Scout, he felt those teeth at his belly, and the searing heat of it being ripped open, his organs spilling out, and the wolf beginning to feast.
Medic grumbled contentedly between growls of aggression as he took hold of Scout's limp body and began to tear pieces out of it. Hunched over the corpse, he tore out a coil of intestine with his hand, only to dig in with his muzzle to gnaw and rip at the soft liver, pancreas, and kidneys within. Both hands cracked open the ribcage, letting him snack on lungs and heart, blood caking and staining his fur as he indulged in his visceral feast.
Sniper lay beside the dead Scout, the warm blood pooling atop the saturated soil slowly spreading to him, to soak into his white wool and stick to his sweaty skin. The meandering coils of Scout's discarded intestines piled beside him, wet and caked with dirt. His eyes tracked to the side, watching dazedly as Medic peeled the diaphragm from the inside of Scout's ribcage and ripped into the fibrous muscle messily. The anatomical knowledge of a surgeon met the brutality and hunger of a ravening beast, made manifest in the wolf thoroughly and efficiently butchering the young man with his claws and teeth and picking his bones clean with startling speed.
Well, startling if Sniper had any thoughts left in his mind beyond how full of come he was, and how Medic's fat knot plugged it up inside of him. His eyes seemed to slide right off of the gory display as they roved back down the beast's body to where they were joined, to the swell of his own belly, bloated with the wolf's seed, to the way he could feel that enormous phallus inside of him, still spearing him so deep and stretching his quivering hole so wide. All that mattered to him was that. It was the only thing that existed to him, all other thoughts banished. He was made for this.
He shuddered, moaning, clenching around that knot, making a growl rise in Medic's throat as he continued ignoring him and set about tearing apart Scout's trousers to get at the thick muscle of the runner's legs, sharp claws and gnashing teeth digging open strong thighs to harvest their meat.
"Scout!"
Medic's attention snapped away from his meal to RED farmhouse in front of him. Scout had been so close. A mere ten feet from the porch, thirty from the back door of the house and thus: salvation. But his screams had done the trick, as—too late to save his fallen friend—another mercenary wearing red began to mount the porch on the other side.
But just in time for Medic to get bored of gorging on this one.
"Scout! We are coming to—sweet mother of mercy!" RED Soldier's steps slowed as he came upon the sight: the massive black beast covered in blood, Scout lying dead in a pool of blood with his throat and torso torn open and gutted, the creature gnawing at his legs, another bleeding man laying on the ground impaled on the wolf's monstrous member.
Medic grinned, laughing. Pieces of Scout, ragged chunks of meat and viscera, clung to his bloodied teeth.
Soldier raised his shotgun.
Heedless of dragging Sniper's limp body by the knot inside of him, Medic leapt.
*
"I lost sight 'a them," BLU Scout reported into his headset. "But I'm pretty sure Medic bit 'im."
"Bit him?!" Demoman cried, leaping from his seat only to be grabbed and forced back down by Heavy. "Me Mickey!"
"Somethin' happened though, 'cause I heard a scream—not Snipes—an' Doc ran off. I'm gonna head over for a closer look." After a few flaps to stretch, Scout leapt from the roof of the base, fluttering between it and the roof of the farmhouse, where he landed at its peak. His talons dug into old shingles as he settled into a crouch to take stock of what was going on.
He barely had time to glimpse the RED Scout's retreat before Medic was on him, and then, his double was screaming, bawling for his life in a blind panic before being silenced as a spray of red pelted the wolf and the desert dust around them.
"Oh, jeez," Scout grimaced, gagging a little as Medic began to eat the dying mercenary. "Bad news about that non-aggression agreement, Spy."
"Merde."
"Also, uh, hey Demo? I know people get sick if they eat other humans, right? Does that—does that transfer if you're a werewolf when you do it?"
"MICKEY!"
"No! No, Snipes is fine. Well. I mean. 'e's knotted an' just kinda layin' there on the ground while Doc's chowin' down. Their scout, by the way. Poor guy."
"Doktor is eating RED Scout?"
"Ohh yeah, 'e's really gettin' in there, too." Scout shuddered.
"What should we do?" Pyro asked, looking worriedly between the panicking Scot and the window Sniper had climbed out of.
"We have two options, it seems," Spy mused. "We could arm ourselves, charge out there to attack one of our own in the hopes of putting him through respawn with enough frequency for the rest of the night to mitigate any further damage. It could save face with the RED team." He took a long drag from his cigarette. "Or we arm ourselves, abscond to the respawn building, close and lock the outer doors, close and lock the shutter door, and let Medic have his fun with our enemies, far away from him and his rampage until morning comes." He smirked. "After Scout retrieves what's left of Sniper, of course."
The assembled mercenaries looked to one another, each trying to abdicate the decision to another as Demoman stood there simmering at Spy's callous phrasing.
Screams erupted in the distance, accompanied by gunfire and the crash of explosions. A wolf's howl echoed above it all. Scout's voice crackled back across the comms. "I don't think we're savin' face with the REDs after this. Oh! Aw jeez, that's—that's a lot 'a blood! Doc just ripped off 'is—OH JESUS!"
"Looks like our decision is made," Spy chuckled.
"Scout, what about Mickey?!"
"Well the good news is 'e's still alive, I think. Bad news is 'e's also still knotted, an' Doc's draggin' 'im around by 'is asshole. That cannot be comfortable, ooh. Guy's leavin' a big smear 'a blood on the ground an'—oop! Hey, he just popped off! Wow, that's a lot 'a jizz. Just gushin' outta 'im." A soft, shaky breath puffed over the comms. "Okay, that's wicked hot, not gonna lie—"
"Tiny Scout, please bring Sniper back," Heavy sighed, keeping a hand firmly on Demoman's shoulder so that the dullahan didn't go tear down the door to get out.
"Roger," Scout chirped. He loosened his grasp on the shingles and tipped forward onto his fingertips, wings open and ready to bolt the moment he saw an opening. "See you guys in respawn, one way or another!"
As the clock strikes midnight, Medic transforms and Heavy bears the brunt of his lover's sudden change into a massive monster of malevolent mischief. Thankfully he'd already been prepared for such girth. The boys make a plan to survive the night, but Sniper, lust-drunk and driven by rut, has his own plans for how to spend the rest of his Halloween. RED team notices there's suddenly a *lot* of screaming going on.
Ao3 Link!
Part of Monstrous Intent!
Sorry for the delay, but I hope the sheer size of this chapter helps make up for the wait! The holiday season is a genuine asskicker for a guy who works mostly fish these days, plus I got super sick on top of it all. Ugh.
Warnings: Some dubious consent vibes, even though everyone involved is on board, just not exactly communicating that in the moment. Huge insertions, belly bulge, knotting, tons of jizz, and some blood and violence during the course of intercourse (biting, speficially).
---------
Medic doubled over with a groan, his laughter unabated as his body was at once flooded with pain so potent and all-consuming that he couldn't imagine trying to articulate it. It coursed in a short, sharp shock from his ribs up and down his spine and out along every bone in his arms, legs, and skull before prickling out with a static buzz of growing discomfort through his skin to the tips of every hair then back in. It was exquisite, hot throbs of hurt pulsing through his every cell as his body remade itself where it stood, meat and bone rearranging itself beneath stretching, stinging skin, and Medic felt like he was too much to contain within himself. He felt like he was being pulled, stretched, wrenched in strange new directions, a pressure forcing itself against his every structure. He gasped, his giggles growing breathy with agonized arousal as the pain became pleasure, and erupted into full cackling as he threw his head back and arched his transforming body.
He caught sight of the mirror, grinning in abject delight to see himself growing taller, broader, his face pushing rapidly out into the shape of a muzzle as his ears grew pointed and slid up the sides of his head, changing shape to something more triangular as they rose. He saw his teeth—parted around manic laughter—elongating into points, his canines becoming fangs as his maw pushed out further and further, his laughter growing deep, husky, and horrible as it grew more and more wild. His coccyx changed shape, giving rise to new vertebrae spawning into being inside his flesh as skin and sinew stretched around each new addition to his spine, extending past his pelvis, downward and outward in the swoop of a tail. His feet elongated, heels rising, calves shortening as he gained a digitigrade stance, sharp claws emerging from toes and fingers where nails once grew. His skin itched as—like a wave of shadow—black fur erupted out of it until he was covered toe to tip in a thick, dark coat dusted with grey at his muzzle, ears, and along his belly. And from that fur the doctor's cock stood proudly, harder than before he had transformed, now emerging from a sheath and tapering to a soft point at its tip.
When it had finished, Medic sagged, the pain gone, and in an instant the void it left was filled by a flood of sensory input and pure energy. He could smell like he never had before, the scent of lubricant, of Heavy's body, his genitals, his arousal and fear, the sweat dried on their sheets, the dust on the hardwood floor, the food and bodies outside, the lube, the semen, the stench of sex lingering in the air and mingling with wood smoke and desert soil. So many more aromas he couldn't place filled his nose, all new, never before sensed nor understood. It was fascinating, but he didn't have time to be lost in it. His whole body trembled with barely-contained urges. He felt like a coiled spring, like a trigger with a warm finger curled around it and beginning to squeeze, like a match dragging across sandpaper. He was at a cusp, ready to leap to action, every muscle tight and eager to move.
He needed to run. He needed to chase. He needed to hunt. He needed to eat. He needed to mate. The urges of the wolf sank into the creases of his brain and filled them to overflowing, and where Demoman might take hold, snatch the reins, and demand his own humanity in the face of such overwhelming and consuming desire, Medic found himself with little interest in putting in such an effort.
After all, unless something quite dire happened, this was almost guaranteed to be his only chance to be a werewolf. Giddy with a mixture of curiosity and chaos, he instead let his own thoughts metaphorically kick back and enjoy the show, giving over control to his base instincts to see where they would take him. It was sure to be fun.
Medic turned to Heavy and grinned, all sharp teeth and dark fur, his cock hard and twitching with his pulse. The wolf's icy blue eyes—full of bad intent—met Heavy's, shocking the giant to action. He had frozen in place, watching the transformation with a mix of fear and awe. As Medic's attention landed on him, he scrambled to try and climb off of the bed, his legs sluggish and his asshole sore.
A massive hand slammed down on Heavy's back between his shoulderblades and pinned him down. Claws pricked into his skin as Medic was upon him in an instant.
He was fast. So fast.
"Doktor..." he huffed, planting his hands on the mattress to try and shove himself up, to power out from under Medic, to absolutely no avail. The doctor was two hundred fourteen centimetres and one hundred fifty kilograms of muscle and menace bearing down on him with as much strength as he cared to use, and it was enough to pin Heavy to the bed, his cheek pressed into the sheets as terror bubbled behind his eyes.
Heavy reached for the headboard, panic hammering in his chest as he scrabbled at the bed, reached for any purchase, trying to get away from the wild beast in the room. He dragged himself up the bed in defiance of the wolf's immense strength, only to be caught by the Gunslinger and viciously yanked away from the bars of the headboard, one bending as his metal grasp faltered and his grip slipped away. Medic slammed the artificial hand against the wall beside them, a crackle of electronics snapping and the low hum of something powering up filling the air. Heavy's fingers spasmed for a moment before he regained control, and then suddenly the whole machine began to vibrate powerfully. Hot breath rolled against Heavy's neck as he felt the heat and weight of the werewolf that was Medic atop him, pinning that rattling hand to the bed as he leaned everything onto him.
Never before in his life had Heavy been so easily overpowered, casually pressed down without even a grunt of effort from the monster bearing down atop him. Hot drool dripped onto his shoulders as Medic climbed atop him, as he heard the soft growls of the massive beast. Medic was holding him prone like it was nothing, and Heavy gasped softly as he felt the hot length of the werewolf's cock nestle into the cleft of his ass.
Medic was going to fuck him. He was going to hold him down and fuck him, and there was nothing Heavy could do to stop him.
Terror and arousal wove together in the giant's gut, his flagging erection betraying him as it sprang back to life, saliva pooling in his mouth. Being fucked by his lover in the form of a werewolf was no terrible thing, save for the sheer girth he'd be enduring. (Thankfully Medic's fist had prepared him for that.) But not having the choice? The giant overpowered and held down by superior physical might? It stirred something within Heavy that had him reeling at how potent an aphrodisiac it provided.
Nobody, nothing had ever proved superior to Heavy's strength. He'd fist-fought Kamchatka bears; massive, powerful creatures weighing double what Medic did now! But here the great wolf had him pinned with obscene strength and an even more obscene cock rutting against the hairy flesh of his raised bottom, and Heavy wasn't sure he'd ever been more aroused by something that didn't involve lace.
And even then, he was feeling less and less sure by the moment about that, the way Medic growled in his ear and leaned atop him, making it hard to breathe as he pressed him into the mattress.
Heavy had given up control to Medic more times than he could count, but every one of those times it had been an exchange of power; pre-negotiated and mutual, with Heavy ceding to the smaller man out of a desire to obey and be subservient. Medic couldn't simply take him without Heavy giving him the ability. But now, Heavy wasn't giving him anything, not an exchange of control, a gesture of mutual trust, but a one-sided show of power, and it was leaving Heavy both metaphorically and physically breathless.
He could use his words, say something, withdraw consent. Surely even in the throes of lupine instinct, Medic would respect that. The man had to still be in there somewhere.
Heavy stayed silent. He wanted this. He arched his ass up against Medic.
He swallowed hard, gripping the bed as Medic pushed between his cheeks and prodded his lube-slick entrance, a soft, canine grumble leaving the wolf in anticipation. The beast's voice was guttural and animal, and the only thing that made Heavy so sure the doctor was still in there was the soft puffs of laughter that broke up his lurid growls.
It was a matter of moments, even though the tumult of his mind and body felt like Heavy had been teetering for minutes on end, and without any proper ado, Medic pushed into him, sliding to the hilt in one hard shove that forced Heavy's breath out in a warbling cry somewhere between shock and pleasure. Medic filled him fully, the space that had once been occupied by his fist now stuffed with the werewolf's overlarge cock, the prickling burn of being forced back open so suddenly making spots dance in Heavy's vision.
Furry hips met his ass, and Medic let out a snuffling, lupine chuckle as he felt Heavy's hole spasming, clenching and twitching around him. His mate welcomed him eagerly if with some difficulty, and he wasted no time in claiming him. Heavy barely had a moment to get used to the sensation, to the sheer size of firm flesh filling him, spreading him open wide and spearing so deep. The dull throb of such pressure was almost dizzying, but as he struggled to adjust, he was robbed of the chance as Medic pulled out almost entirely and slammed back in to the hilt, his animal grunt lost in Heavy's wail.
Medic bore down on him, all of his weight atop Heavy's back and arm, holding him down as he pulled back and punched in again, and again, and again, slamming into Heavy with force enough to jolt him up the bed were he not held so firmly in place. Instead, each thrust speared deep into Heavy, the dull clap of fur to flesh accompanying the giant's ragged cries of pain amid pleasure and the animalistic grunts of the werewolf assaulting him. Heavy clawed at the bed, unable to get away, but not sure if he was even truly trying.
Not as his cock hung heavy beneath him, leaking precome in haphazard drips onto his thighs and the sheets as he was rocked with each thrust. Not as he drooled into the mattress, his mouth open around gasping cries and eyes squeezed shut to keep their growing wateriness from building into tears. Not as Medic battered his prostate with every pass, hot pulses of pleasure making his thighs tremble and his balls draw up even through the prickling of pain in his wide-stretched hole. Heavy's body felt tight, wrought to its limits as Medic took him, fucking him with force and fury as he drove deep into him and pulled back so far only to slam home again with long, luxuriant strokes.
Medic wasn't just taking him, he was mating him, savoring the feeling of his lover's hot, slick hole even as he gradually sped his pace. He nosed in against Heavy's neck and licked the sweat that gathered there, soft canine laughs puffing out of him between growling grunts. Heavy's body welcomed him like his home, tight and inviting, twitching around him, but all the same he knew well how Heavy's cries of duress differed between revelry and harm. As much as he whimpered and gasped, wailing with each rough thrust, he loved every moment of it. The scent of him told him just as much, and it only made him want to fuck Heavy harder.
Heavy's eyes rolled back in his head as Medic sped still further, his legs ready to give out on him as Medic railed him into a puddle atop the bed, restricting his breath with his body weight, overpowering him and taking him and stuffing him full of far too much cock. Each thrust punched sparks up his spine and lava into his gut, burning his insides in different, brilliant ways as he floundered and clutched the sheets for dear life. It was so much, it was too much. It hurt and it felt amazing. He wasn't sure whether he wanted it to stop or go on forever. Dimly, he wanted Medic to grab hold of him, to lift him up and fuck up into him, to tug his arms behind his back and lean atop them, pinning them in place as he fucked him ruthlessly, to lift his arms above his head and dangle him from them as he pumped him full of his seed. Heavy had never imagined himself being manhandled in bed before, very content to be the one doing the holding and lifting and taking, but now, here...
Heavy needed it.
He shoved his free hand down against the mattress, trying to push himself up, trying to overpower Medic, and gasped deeply as he managed to lift up by a few inches, the wolf too preoccupied with fucking him to fight him. Medic snarled and buried himself in to the root, then shoved Heavy back down with ease. He grinned and grabbed hold of the giant's shoulders with both clawed hands, nails pricking into skin, and put all of his weight there, doubling over Heavy to force him to the bed and shove his face into the sheets. Heavy moaned in reply, his voice coming in wanton cries as Medic returned to fucking him, his thrusts harder, faster, sloppier as he braced himself by digging the claws of his toes into the mattress.
Gods, yes, Heavy thought as his cheek ground into the bed, drooling openly around his wails of pleasure. Medic held him down, overpowered him, and put all of his strength into fucking him. Heavy was powerless to stop him, helpless under his might, and he couldn't reach a hand beneath himself to touch his cock, which was agonizingly hard under the werewolf's assault. But gods, would the Gunslinger feel good, vibrating away against oversensitive flesh.
Soon he felt Medic's thrusts grow shorter, faster, and with a groan, the wolf pushed in to the hilt and began grinding into him. Heavy's breath caught as he felt the girth inside of him grow even thicker, a knot of muscle tying at the base of Medic's cock, just inside of his abused hole. Medic pulled back, tugging at Heavy from within and testing the tie, making the giant cry out. A lupine chuckle left the wolf, satisfied that he had knotted his mate. He stopped trying to pull back and instead, simply kept bucking forward.
Rough, shallow strokes assaulted Heavy's hole as Medic raced for the edge, chasing his release inside of his mate's hot depths. The giant wailed without sense, the fat knot tugging at him with every retreat, thick inside of him and locking him together with the monster that held him down. It made him dizzy, teetering on the edge as Medic humped him for all he was worth.
With a howl, Medic found completion deep inside Heavy, bucking into him and flooding him with gout after gout of hot seed, fucking it into him desperately. Heavy could feel the volume within him, bloating him, swelling his insides, the wolf shoving him down to pump him full, and it was all he could take. His face buried in the sheets, he screamed as he came, cock throbbing untouched as he spilled out onto the bed beneath him, his hole clamping down around the gargantuan cock inside of him and milking every last drop out of Medic into him.
When he came down, Heavy sagged, boneless atop the bed with a belly full of come and drool on his face, the Gunslinger still buzzing away unceasingly. He gasped, gulping down as much air as Medic's weight on him would allow, and when a warm, wet tongue began to softly lap at his cheek, his soft laughter made his hole twitch around the enormous phallus still trapped inside of him, making both of them groan at the sensation.
"Think I understand Sniper now," Heavy mumbled muzzily.
A snicker left Medic, and he found himself pulling back, testing the tie that held him inside of Heavy. It felt amazing, but he didn't want to linger. There was so much to do, so much to see, so little time he would have for this experience! The afterglow was a beautiful thing, but he had claimed his mate, so now he had other things to explore!
Plus, he was ravenously hungry.
"Doktor," Heavy grunted as Medic tried to pull back.
Medic huffed, a soft grumble leaving his throat as he gave up and resumed lapping at Heavy's cheek, resigning himself to just a little more sweetness.
*
Outside, the rest of BLU team had taken to relaxing around the fire, the washtub of beers and melted ice having been dragged over and set on the ground beside the somewhat soiled couch, all but Demoman with a bottle in hand. Spy had claimed the couch to lounge, tired of uncomfortable crates and folding chairs too small for him, but had to suffer the indignity of Sniper crawling atop him as penance for taking the entire piece of furniture for himself. One of his hands was currently occupied lazily stroking Sniper's cock as he lay whimpering and panting atop him. It was keeping the rutting faun calm at the very least.
Demoman sat on a folding chair beside the couch, deeply amused at how pathetic Sniper was under the jotun's touch. It was too adorable, and he couldn't wait to tease him about it once they were past all of this.
"...an' that's why Spy taught me the Receive Lover spell," Scout said, finishing a long explanation that could have been two sentences.
Soldier nodded, rubbing his chin. "I see. So because Spy dated this oni guy, you get to have a stretchy, lubed-up butt on command. It all makes sense now," he said with a nod. "You know, Engie cut out the middle man! I found out with Heavy earlier that he puts lube in a little compartment in his robot leg!"
"Isnae both o' them robot legs?" Demoman asked.
"Yes."
"Wonder what other kinds 'a tricks an' treats 'e's got in there," Scout mused. "Hey, Eng!"
Engineer looked up from where he sat on the ground, leaning back against a crate as Pyro sat between his legs and leaned back against him, the kitsune's three tails curled up around them, his lover petting through his fur contentedly. "Yeah?"
"Do you got any other things in them robot legs 'a yours? Or just lube?"
"What's the difference? Ain't you turnin' yourself into a robot?"
Engineer sighed, rubbing at the bridge of his nose as Pyro snickered. "No, I'm replacin' my body with cybernetic prosthetics. Goal's a fully synthetic body," he clarified. "Not a damn robot."
"What's the difference?" Soldier asked.
"Well for one a robot ain't a person," Engineer huffed. "It's a machine, a tool. Somethin' elegant an' impressive, for sure, but not capable o' independent thought or genuine emotion. Ain't complex enough for that sort o' thing. That besides, they ain't got human brains."
"Aren't you planning to make that into a computer too, eventually?" Pyro asked.
"I mean, eventually, yes, but that'll be a synthetic upload of my brain, complete with the capacity for neuroplasticity. Ain't the same. Plus, my tech ain't even close to there for that sort o' thing yet."
"I've heard of wizards doing that to their minds and souls, with magic. Not to computers, but to items of power," Spy hummed, slowing his hand down as he heard Sniper's soft mewls of pleasure pick up intensity, bringing him back away from the edge with a smirk. "From what Pyro tells me you're already melding magic and machinery rather thoroughly."
"I got a long time before I get to that part o' the process anyway," Engineer replied noncommittally. He didn't want to bring more magic in than he already had. After all, the idea was to be fully self-maintenanced post-installation. He wasn't about to use fancy arcane stuff that he didn't understand. If he couldn't fix it, it wasn't part of the schematic.
From within the base, the sounds of Heavy's wails of pleasure grew loud enough to be noticeable, and the mercenaries shared a knowing smirk before returning to their conversation.
"Okay, so you ain't makin' a robot outta yourself, but could you build a robot?" Scout asked against the mouth of his bottle.
"Technically the sentries are a form o' robotics."
"You know what I mean, man! Can you make a mechanical guy? Like Twiki from Buck Rogers or some shit?"
"'Course I could," Engineer replied with swig of his beer. "But it ain't practical to do humanoid shapes most o' the time. Not when other form factors're better suited for the work you're buildin' it for. Most o' the time the kinda things you actually need robots for ain't stuff like havin' a metal feller you can chat with around." He chuckled a bit. "It ain't efficient. Plus bipedal locomotion's real tough to get right. The amount o' work our spines 'n cores do keepin' us upright's actually wild, once you know how it all stacks up."
"The way Engie builds robots, I'd nae wannae go up against one if he did build a fully mechanical man. He'd specifically create a machine tae thrash me arse, nae doubt."
"That's true, I would."
"You wouldn't fight a robot?" Soldier gawped, scandalized.
"Never said that. I said I'd nae wannae fight one Engie built. At least, nae a fair fight," Demoman chuckled. "I'd fight a robot, though, absolutely! Bet they'd explode right grand! Make their own shrapnel!"
"Guess it depends what kinda weapons 'e gives it, though," Scout mused. "If it's got all kinds 'a sentry weapons, yeah, no, I'm out."
"But if it's just a robot with a bat like you have?" Soldier asked.
"Oh, I'd fight that, yeah."
"What about you, Spy?"
"I try to avoid fights to begin with," Spy mused with a shake of his head. "Besides, I have my sapper for such contingencies."
"Ooh, a sapper would fuck a robot up, I bet!" Scout agreed.
The conversation froze in an instant as the sound of a wolf's howl rattled against the windows of Heavy and Medic's shared quarters.
Sniper checked his watch. "Bugger." It was after midnight. They'd completely lost track of time.
"Gentlemen," Spy said simply, letting go of Sniper and urging him off to stand on wobbly hooves, each of them slowly rising as if afraid to spook an animal among them. "It seems we know who the werewolf among us is."
"Heavy," Soldier said, slamming his fist into his palm.
"Medic," Demoman corrected, patting the djinni on the shoulder.
"Medic," Soldier said, slamming his fist into his palm.
"Poor Heavy," Engineer mumbled, realizing what all of the screaming was about.
"'ope 'e was lubed up," Sniper said with a horny little huff. "A werewolf's no small challenge."
Scout gulped. "So what do we do?"
Demoman looked to the assembled mercenaries. "Pyro, ye ken where the cooler o' meat is?"
"Yeah, it's inside the mess fridge."
"Go. Fetch it." He grabbed Sniper and looked at his watch. "If doc transformed at midnight, that howl's probably him finishin' up in Heavy."
Sniper couldn't help a soft sound at the thought. Oh, he envied Heavy. Getting fucked within an inch of his life and pumped full of the werewolf's seed, anchored in place on a knot and full beyond capacity for rational thought. It was a heady experience he could never get enough of, near religious in the sheer ecstasy it inspired. He salivated, his still-hard cock twitching with want. And with Medic, no less! Demoman had experience as a werewolf, he'd lived with the curse's effects since puberty. He'd learned to control the wolf, to metre out his impulses, to keep himself amid all of the instinct and base animal desire that threatened to overtake him. Medic had no such practice, no training from family on how to tamp down the wolf and take control. Instead, he was being thrown to the wolves, with the sudden onset of all of that need and desire all at once mingling with the doctor's own legendary lack of impulse control.
Heavy must be a wreck.
Sniper felt his knees grow weak imagining it.
"On it!" Pyro called, dashing into the base and making a beeline for mess.
Outside, the rest of the team looked to Demoman for instruction. If anyone knew what to do, it would be him.
"Right, we need tae make sure that when Medic leaves that base, all o' his needs are satisfied. He's handled a shag, so he's gonnae be hungry. Pyro's meat should help, but the hunger is fierce, so we may need tae be careful it disnae get looped intae his huntin' instinct. Hunger, matin', and the hunt are the big three right after ye transform, and the third is mostly just a drive tae run and chase. Can be spent out givin' him a target tae run after." Demoman looked to Scout. "Scout, think ye can outmaneuver him?"
"I outran you back in June for a good mile 'a woodland, up until I tripped."
"Aye, but ye had faun legs then."
"Yeah, but I got garuda wings now," Scout replied with a grin, jerking his thumb at himself as he spread his wings wide for emphasis, nearly bowling Soldier over with one. "An' the doc can't fly."
"Dinnae underestimate his vertical leap. It'll be better than ye expect."
"Got it."
"Right, so we need tae make ourselves scarce when he's done with Heavy tae give him fewer targets. The average length o' time a knot stays tied is about fifteen to twenty min—"
Heavy's voice cut across the din, muffled through the glass of the window to his and Medic's quarters. He cried out in what sounded like distress, pleading, "Doktor! Wait! Please, is still too big!" until he loosed another sharp cry.
A scratching, tapping sound like an excited dog running on a hardwood floor filled the air, and accompanied a loud series of stomping footsteps until with a crash and a clatter the door to the base burst open, slamming against the outer wall with a sharp BANG! In its wake, a great, black wolf-man barreled out of the base with a glorious howl.
The mercenaries outside screamed and froze, eyes wide as they fell upon Medic's massive lupine form, his cock still hard if slowly wilting, knot still mostly tied if shrinking. Sniper's eyes wouldn't leave it, and he salivated, making to approach before Demoman looped an arm around him to hold him in place.
"Hey Doc," Scout ventured, smiling nervously as he looked into the eyes of the massive beast, which were a blue as pale as shadowed snow, giving an alien otherworldliness to the already quite mystical monster. "You, uh, you look good! How... you feelin'? You, uh, you alright?"
Medic sniffed at the air, a million points of interest lighting up to him as his nose was flooded with information. Food, sex, alcohol, smoke, fire, soil, dust, wood, lubricant, men. Pheromones bled into the air off of Sniper like steam from a boiling pot. The radio in the window played some inoffensively spooky songs, and in the distance the sounds of chatter and more music could be heard across the battlefield. Medic's lupine ears twitched this way and that as he took in all of the sounds around him. Behind him he heard footsteps. He didn't care. He sniffed again. Food. Pizza. Chips. Cheese curls. His maw fell open, tongue lolling out as the greasy aroma of melted cheese and pepperoni overtook everything else.
Heedless of the rest of the team and Pyro behind him, Medic charged out of the base. The mercenaries staggered back only to see him juke hard to the right and immediately dive for the snack table beside the door and tear into the pizza with animal abandon.
"Get inside! Go, go, go!" Demoman called, waving to the door once the wolf was distracted.
Pyro yelped, wheeling to the side as the team charged through the door in a panic, then peeked outside once only Demoman and Sniper remained, the bomber helping his lover stumble toward the base on shaky hooves. "What about the meat?"
Scout scooped the cooler from Pyro's arms and opened the lid. Taking hold of the thing by its handle, he spun, hammer-tossing the cooler and its contents past Medic, catching the wolf's attention with the scent of blood instantly. Medic's eyes snapped to follow the cooler's arc, and after gulping down the last of the pizza, his jaws fell open, salivating openly. With a growl, he charged after the cooler, which tumbled to a stop near the edge of the field, giving the team the space they needed to get inside and bar the door, pushing tables from the mess hall in to block it for extra measure.
The sound of a mechanical rattling filled the room as slowly, sorely, Heavy limped in from the hallway. He was naked, semen dripping down his thighs, The Gunslinger still vibrating away at the end of his arm. "Is Doktor outside?"
"For now, aye," Demoman confirmed with a peek out the window.
"You good, Big Guy?" Scout asked, looking the red-faced giant over in surprise.
"Will be fine," Heavy harrumphed. He held up his vibrating hand. "Where is Engineer?"
The team looked around, suddenly very concerned not to see Engineer's face among them, until the sound of a throat clearing at their feet made them look down. Engineer sat there on his haunches in fox form, three tails lashing in annoyance. "The hell did you do to my hand, son?"
"Doktor smash against wall. It start buzzing. Cannot get it to stop."
"You try that white button?" the kitsune asked.
"Try every button," Heavy confirmed.
"Dangit, that ol' queen did a number on 'er, then. I got some tools in my quarters, can probably fix 'er up quick. Pyro, go grab somethin' to clean the poor guy up with."
Sniper licked his lips, watching Heavy's massive metal hand vibrating away loudly and forcefully. "Wait. Before you do..."
*
"You guys hear that?" RED Scout asked, half-turning from where he sat by the team's bonfire, a beer in his hand.
"Hear what?" RED Sniper asked against the lip of his own beer bottle, cocking an eyebrow at his friend.
"Somethin' like a howlin'? Like a wolf or somethin', then a loud bang," Scout replied, turning back to Sniper with a frown.
"Worried about things goin' bump in the night?" Sniper teased.
"It is the witchin' hour, lad!" Demoman called out with a drunken whoop. "Best be careful nae spooks or beasties gobble ye up!"
"Yeah yeah, yuck it up, you guys," Scout grumbled, pouting. "Like there ain't a whole team 'a actual factual monsters on the other side 'a the field or nothin'."
"Relax, mate. They'll 'old up their end of the ceasefire if they're smart. Worst we'll 'ave to worry about is hearin' 'em rootin' too loud," Sniper snickered.
*
BLU Sniper slouched in a chair against the window of the rec room, staring blearily out into the night in the post-orgasm haze of a vibrating handjob. Pleasant chemicals flooded his brain, fighting with the hormones crashing against his grey matter in waves of need and urges. Sitting still couldn't last long, and he knew that out there, on the other side of that door, was Medic. The werewolf. All dark, greying fur and thick, powerful muscle. Sharp teeth, sharper claws, and a thick, tantalizing cock with a big fat knot. Sniper felt like he couldn't breathe just at the thought, of the great beast bearing down on him in the desert dust, teeth at his neck, pumping him gravid with his hot seed.
He wanted it. He needed it. He couldn't let the opportunity to have that experience as a faun pass him up. He was built for this. Made for this. Every atom of his being for this one magical day constructed purely for the pursuit of pleasure. He had to. He couldn't go the rest of his life wondering what if. He couldn't go on living! He felt like he was dying of thirst, the thought circling over and over in his mind and driving him mad, making him feel like an animal pacing in a cage, gnawing at the bars, desperate to escape.
He was as hard as diamonds again already, and he knew that just out of eyeshot, Medic was tearing into the mutton in that cooler, powerful jaws ripping meat asunder, blood on his muzzle.
Sniper looked over to the one couch that hadn't been used to brace the door to the base, where Heavy sat, his arm and the now-still Gunslinger resting on the coffee table where Engineer stood with a wrench gripped in his vulpine mouth, reassembling the machine after fixing what Medic had broken. The others were either busy watching or shutting the shutter door at the end of the dormitory hallway, locking the building down as best they could.
Nobody was focused on him. It would be so easy. All he had to do was open the window and punch out the screen, then he could get to Medic. It would be so simple. Nevermind that he had barely learned to walk on his own two hooves. He didn't need to. He just needed to be able to present himself and lift his tail.
Sniper flopped out the window onto the ground outside in a heap, blinking as he realized he'd been going through the very motions he was planning out, mostly without even noticing. It was fine. He needed this. There was no going back. There was no stopping it. He needed to make sure they wouldn't stop him.
He climbed to his hooves and slowly began to totter over to the farmhouse that served as the perimeter of the ceasefire, his tail wagging in anticipation.
Medic took his time with the mutton, tearing pieces slowly, relishing the sensation of his teeth piercing meat, ripping flesh, ovine ichor filling his mouth with each crushed muscle and ruptured cell wall. Liquid, red and running, dripped from his maw and claws as he savored his meal. The man excitedly observing from within his own mind knew that the fluid was a mixture of body waters and myoglobin, oxygen turning the stuff a bright vivid red as he exposed it to the air with each luxuriant bite. He was sure anyone observing would think it to be blood, but in context, the difference mattered very little.
What mattered was the satisfaction. The iron tang of raw meat, the grassy game flavour of the mutton, the sensation of ripping through muscle tissue and tearing off pieces to sloppily half-chew in a mouth not meant to grind and tenderize before swallowing mostly-whole. It fulfilled something primal within Medic, stimulation that he found pleasant combined with sating the hunger that had left him ravenous upon transforming. The caloric toll of such bodily trauma must be immense, and Medic finally felt the gnawing hunger abate, full of pizza and sheep as he now was.
Which was good, as he snapped up the last bite of meat in the cooler and tossed it aside, the grey fur of his muzzle stained red. He looked around to see the team had disappeared, but a few sniffs told him they hadn't gone far. Likely indoors, which was a shame. It made it much harder to play with his packmates that way. Another sniff and his eyes widened as he caught scent of something potent.
Pheromones. Lust. More powerful than even Heavy in the throes of their mating. It hung in the wind nearly as a cloud, filling his nose and making his body respond almost immediately, his cock peeking out of its sheath. The smell was as if the sheer concept of sexual need were made manifest, desperate, thirsty, longing, wanting. He smelled semen, sweat, lubricant, desire, and under it all, more mutton. It was coming from inside the farmhouse.
Medic climbed to his feet and trudged over, harder by the moment as he followed that enthralling scent.
*
"Right, so if 'e comes sniffin' back around the base, I'll climb out one 'a the upper windows, get 'is attention an' give 'im somethin' to chase. I figure I can lead 'im off the grounds, out into the fields around the base an' lose 'im, let 'im run loose in the corn an' scarf down field mice or whatever's out there," Scout reasoned as he and Demoman emerged from the dormitory hall, the steel shutter door firmly in place to lock off that entrance to the base.
"Aye, that should be enough tae keep 'im away from us and the REDs, though ye might need tae go back and round him up every so often. Doc can get bored easy unless his interest's piqued, and we dinnae ken how that'll translate tae his wolf," the bomber said, turning in to the rec room. A quick scan of the room made him freeze, Scout nearly blundering into him from behind. "Lads?"
A few other mercenaries looked over in response.
"Where the fuck is Mickey?" Demoman asked, a mixture of concern and annoyance creeping into his voice.
That got the whole team's attention, each mercenary casting looks around the room in realization. Sniper wasn't there.
"Shit. Demo, the window," Scout pointed to the open window, the screen ripped up from the bottom of its frame.
"Shite!" Demoman barked. Charging over and looking out, he caught sight of Sniper slowly toddling into the farm house. Behind him and quickly gaining was Medic, his claws and maw still dripping with juice from the mutton he'd devoured. "Mickey ye daft whore!"
The bomber hefted his upper body out of the window, feet leaving the floor as he made to shimmy out after his husband, only to be grabbed and hauled back inside cursing and fighting. Wrestled to the floor by Scout and Soldier, he saw Spy lean over and shut the window with dismay.
"Mickey! Me Mickey!" Demoman blurted out in a panic. "Why—"
"If you go out there, you'll be torn to shreds," Spy explained plainly.
"And Mickey won't?"
Spy rolled his eyes. "Of all of us, Mundy has the most experience both in dealing with dangerous monsters and surviving the attempt."
"Aye, when he's a bloody human, nae a sex-crazed faun!" Demoman looked to Scout. "Nae offense."
"None taken."
"He also has more experience having sex with monsters than all of us, possibly combined!"
"Even Pyro?" Scout asked. "He's literally ancient!" "Yeah but I'm mostly into humans."
"Huh."
Spy sighed, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. "The point being that Mundy is a grown man and can handle himself, and he made the stupid decision to go out and find trouble. I however am not going to allow anyone else to attract his attention back to the base where if he gets in, we have no easy egress!"
"Spy, we just fed Doc a whole cooler of bloody mutton! What do ye think Mickey—who presently has a sheep's arse—smells like right now, eh?"
Pyro winced at that. "Hm. Maybe not the best choice of meat now that you put it like that."
"Look, Tavish, if Mundy does get torn limb from limb, then the price of one off-hours respawn fee is better than all of us having to pay up, likely multiple times each once Medic claws back out of the base and into respawn right next door," Spy reasoned.
Demoman looked down at the black band tattooed on his finger, then back up to Spy. His voice quavered as though he would cry if he could, "I cannae just leave him. He's me hus—"
"He's a grown man," Spy interrupted, not about to let Demoman spill his own secret in the throes of emotion. "I understand you feel it's your duty to protect him. But let him make his own mistakes. At least tonight, they won't be permanent."
Demoman let out a long, shaky breath. "Fine. But if we've an opportunity tae get him tae safety..."
Spy nodded, satisfied. "Scout, get to the roof, keep watch. If you have an opening, take it."
Scout grinned, waggling his eyebrows. "I got an opening you could take—"
"Scout."
Pouting, Scout deflated and shuffled out of the room to head for the stairs. "Sheesh, alright, jeez."
*
Shakily, slowly, Sniper walked into the farmhouse, the tiptoe gait of his faun hooves slowly feeling more comfortable, if not necessarily stable. He'd always been a gangly fellow, with long thin legs that shot up well before the rest of him did when puberty had first hit. He could still remember the growing pains, and how sore his very bones felt in that first year or two of growth spurts. And now, with his feet rearranged and his stance completely altered, Sniper once again felt as unsteady on two legs as he had as an old boy on the cusp of becoming a young man.
Seemed almost appropriate considering he'd spent the day hornier than he'd been since puberty, to boot. Only this time a quiet wank in his room couldn't fix the problem. No, this would only be satisfied one way, and one way only.
He needed to shag that werewolf.
Every step was a thump of impact, a click of hoof, a creak of wood all booming in his pointed ears. The scents of wood smoke and raw meat filled his nose amid the lingering stench of sex in the air and on his own body. He could smell the semen of his teammates between his cheeks and clinging to the wool of his ass, thighs, and taint. He could smell the wolf growing closer, and he knew he had Medic's attention. The taste of Pyro lingered on his tongue, and the slippery squish of lube and come in his sore, used hole was maddening, making him salivate for still more. His senses were going wild, arousal so potent his dick actually hurt from being so hard in anticipation. It would be almost pathetic if he were in any right state of mind for that level of self-reflection. Instead, Sniper stroked his cock as he carefully picked his way into the creaky old building, the open doorway opposite leading to the front porch allowing in the distant sounds of the RED team's gathering across the battlefield.
His scent preceding him, Medic's arrival was no surprise. What did catch Sniper off-guard however was the speed with which the wolf came upon him. Barely a few steps into the farmhouse, he heard a growl. He had no time to react before he was seized by a horn, jerked backward and nearly off of his hooves as his body collided with a wall of fur and muscle and a second massive hand took hold of him, wrapping around his waist and pricking sharp claws into his tanned skin. A gigantic, hard cock slipped between his woolly legs, standing out from between them.
Sniper gasped, nearly going slack in Medic's grasp as he pulled his horn to tilt his head to the side and expose his neck. The wolf's hot, flat tongue licked a stripe up it. His pulse was pounding. Sniper shivered at the sensation. He could smell blood on Medic's muzzle.
What must he smell like? What must he taste like? Part-sheep, just like the meat the great beast had taken his time tearing to shreds and gobbling down mere moments ago. Sniper swallowed hard, realizing in the moment that, perhaps, mutton hadn't been the wisest choice on Pyro's part.
He must smell like food. Would Medic deflower him, or devour him?
Sniper's cock twitched at the mere question.
Medic sniffed, and Sniper knew the wolf could smell his arousal, just how open and willing and desperate he was. How wanton and pathetic and needful his raw desire had become. A lupine chuckle rumbled in the wolf's throat as he released Sniper's horn and took hold of his waist with both hands. With startlingly little effort, Medic lifted him up and pushed his cock between the faun's woolly, come-slick cheeks, its hot tip pressing against his hole.
Sniper didn't have time to react beyond a gasp. Medic paused not to litigate the faun's obvious ardor but merely to savor the moment before pushing Sniper down onto his cock, sliding deep after breaching him with little consideration for the scream that ripped out of the faun in his hands.
Sniper threw his head back with a cry, spread wide in an instant around the wolf's enormous girth and filled, filled, sliding deeper and deeper inside of him until he reached the hilt, Medic's cock fully sheathed within his trembling, quivering body. It hurt beautifully, the muscles of his hole electric with shocks of pain at being forced to open so violently. He was well-used, fucked constantly and thoroughly over a full day and fully relaxed if sore from so much traffic, and the mess of lubricant and semen that soiled him inside and out slicked the way expertly, slippery for Medic's use and ready for more. But all the same, nothing, not even taking multiple cocks simultaneously, could truly prepare his body to accept a werewolf's oversized phallus, and as his voice spent out, Sniper panted and hissed, struggling to accept what was being forced into him, his hands scrabbling at his thighs for something to do as his hooves dangled above the floor, Medic's hands still wrapped around his waist.
The wolf groaned his pleasure, the hot, tight depths of Sniper's body squeezing at him, his hole twitching and fluttering in a panic as it struggled to adjust. And yet, even as he screamed and gulped down air, clutching at himself and shivering in his grasp, Sniper's tail wagged away, betraying the faun's sheer elation at his predicament. More lupine chuckles rumbled up in Medic's throat as Sniper struggled on his cock, and as he nosed in at the side of his neck, he could feel the blood rushing through his carotid artery, pumping beneath his skin. He licked softly there, pulling whimpers from Sniper amid his heavy, panting breaths.
Sniper whined as that soft, hot tongue laved at his neck. Medic could take the entire thing between those massive jaws like it was nothing. He thought of those sharp, sharp teeth against his vulnerable skin. It would be so easy for him to bite down, tear into him and rip his throat out. Blood would spay from him and he would die gurgling for breath, the great beast's cock still deep in his belly.
A shudder rippled through him, fear and lust intertwined as the twitching of his hole gradually went from trying to adjust to clenching in need. His breaths stuttered as they rattled out of him, and soon enough, he found himself going limp and pliant in Medic's grasp, giving up control he never had. Medic moved one hand from his waist to his horn once again. Arching his hips back, he lifted Sniper upward, pulling out to the head, and with a cruel laugh, pushed him down and bucked up, slamming back in and punching out another scream.
Then he did it again. And again. And again. With his nose at Sniper's neck, he built speed as he hammered up into Sniper and dragged him down onto his cock, using him like a toy as the faun wailed in shameless, ragged, delicious agony.
Sniper reached up with one arm, wrapping it around Medic's head and fisting his fingers in the thick fur of the wolf's dark mane, finding some purchase to hold onto as his other hand drifted to his belly, where he could feel it bulge outward, distending with each slam of that massive cock deep inside of him. Gods, it was amazing, the way this enormous monster could lift him up and use his hole, distend his guts, and drive the voice from his throat and the sense from his mind. Screams trailed out into wordless, nonsense warbling cries. Tremors rippled through him as he felt Medic in his belly, his eyes watering in reverence, the staggering eroticism of his plight making him weak mind and body.
Heat blazed deep with every ingress, throbbing out through him like ripples in a pond; pure pleasure somehow both sharp and rumbling, thrumming through every nerve like an electrical current traveling the full extent of his quivering body. From the tips of his horns to the soles of his hooves, ecstasy coursed through him to the very cells, every mere sensation amplified to the point that Sniper felt like he was ablaze in pleasure. Not like the warm, constant, ambient embrace of Soldier's fiery body, but hot, burning, consuming him and destroying him, stealing the air from his lungs and the sense from his mind to float way into the air like ashes in the desert breeze.
It was everything he could have hoped for and more.
Medic growled as licked between Sniper's neck and shoulder, the thick trapezius muscle there flexing as he clung to the wolf's fur in desperation, woolly legs dangling uselessly and body limp in his mighty grip. Sniper was so pliant, so vulnerable, stuffed overfull of cock and beginning to weep as he was overwhelmed, fat tears rolling down his face as he wailed out his pleasure. He was entirely at Medic's mercy, the wolf's mercy, and the great beast salivated as the man inside—already content to let his baser instincts take the wheel and see what came of it—truly let go of any remaining semblance of control.
Sniper's scent was a staggering mix of conflicting smells, and as the beast fully took over, Medic found it harder to disentangle them. Particularly as his furor in fucking the faun grew. He smelled like sex, like a mate, and it drove him to fuck harder, faster, as deep as he could, clapping fur to wool in a frenzy of pleasure. But that wool, that horn he gripped, the smell of him, was like prey. Like food. Drool ran from the corners of Sniper's mouth as his head tilted back and he cried out to the ceiling, his jaw slack, his tongue lolling out. Medic's tongue snaked out too, swirling over that thick, meaty muscle. He brought his teeth to it, holding Sniper's shoulder in his jaws, and tugged his head to the side by his horn for easier access.
His teeth pressed just a little, enough pressure to feel.
Sniper came suddenly with a sob and a ragged howl, spilling his seed out onto the floor as his hole clamped down around Medic, squeezing greedily at him as though begging him to follow, urging him to come with Sniper over the edge, pleading for a load to fill his belly. He shuddered bodily, jolting and wailing as Medic's thrusts didn't slow, as the great wolf didn't hesitate to continue slamming him down onto his cock with vicious abandon.
Sniper whimpered, his chest heaving as he began to cry, overstimulation fully taking hold and breaking him.
Medic bit down.
*
"Jesus, Mary, and Joseph! You guys cannot tell me you didn't hear that!" RED Scout barked as a scream ripped across the battlefield.
"Nah, yeh, definitely heard that one, mate."
"Cripe!"
"Shh, shh!" Scout shushed, craning to hear as the air went silent for a long moment.
"What d'ye think that wa—"
Another scream. And another. And another, over and over, wailing in agony, ragged and tormented, a voice that could only be the BLU Sniper's carried across the battlefield over chatter, over the crackling of the fire, over the radio, over everything, sending a hush over the RED team as they all turned in the direction of the sound.
"Good lord, they're killin' the poor feller," Engineer mumbled.
"What happen?" Heavy asked, confused. There was no gunfire, no explosions, no sounds of battle, so it couldn't be some sort of Monoculus-type situation again, and the constant nature of the other man's cries made seeing one of the ghosts known to haunt Harvest deeply unlikely to be the culprit.
"Some sort o' dark ritual, maybe," Demoman growled, sneering in the direction of the sound. "Who kens what evil that lot are up tae on All Hallows' Eve? Maybe that's why they wanted the ceasefire? Sacrificin' their own tae summon demons or some such!"
The rest of the team frowned at Demoman, each of them thinking but unwilling to say that his opinions about his ex's team weren't exactly unbiased.
"Bloody 'ell it sounds awful," Sniper said, a little disturbed to hear his own voice in such distress.
Scout set down his beer and hopped to his feet. "That's it, I'm goin' over there."
"You're what, mate?"
"Look, that guy sounds like 'e's gettin' turned inside out or somethin' over there! Yeah we're enemies an' stuff but holy shit, man! Plus, what if whatever's doin' that comes over 'ere when it gets bored?!"
"So you just wanna meet it 'alfway?"
"I wanna find out what it is we might gotta be dealin' with! I'm a scout, right?"
"Just don't bring trouble back with you, yeh?"
*
Sniper's chest heaved with shallow, laboured breaths. Pain surged through his shoulder, Medic's teeth digging into the meat of his muscle, hot searing agony throbbing around each puncture. In the same moment conflicting sensations fought for dominance as the wolf's hips never stilled, the hands on his horn and waist holding him in place as he pounded up into Sniper, plunging deep into his hole unceasingly, wracking the faun's overstimulated body with rapturous pleasure on every cruel ingress.
His body hung there in Medic's grasp, blood welling around the monster's fangs, dribbling out and rolling down his naked body in thick, fat drops, leaving livid red trails in their wake. He sobbed, he shuddered, but he was already hard again, his cock twitching with the hurried beating of his racing heart.
The bite wasn't deep enough to truly wound him. Not unless Medic clamped down and tore in. But he didn't. Instead, he held him there in the grip of his hands and mouth, his tongue lashing against his heated, hurting skin, swiping up what blood he could taste and groaning in revelry.
He fucked him, he tasted him, and between that, Sniper dangled here and took it, no longer wailing but choking out desperate sounds of distress and duress, never once letting go of his mane, or his own belly, where he could still feel Medic's cock punch against it from inside. Never once ceasing the wagging of his woolly little tail.
A soft bleat escaped Sniper amidst one of his sobs, and it was enough to make Medic's knees shake. He needed to mate him. He needed to claim him. He released his horn to shift his grip, snatching Sniper underneath his thighs and spreading them as he began pounding in earnest, chasing the edge, chasing his release, chasing his need deep into the bleeding faun's sore, aching hole.
Sniper whined, mindless, thoughtless, adrift in pleasure and pain and need and hunger and sex, a body built to fuck, to be fucked, to feel. As Medic slammed in to the root and ground in, a pathetic mewl left him as he felt the wolf's knot swell inside of him. Yes, this was it. It was what he needed. Where he needed to be. Impaled on a cock big enough to make his belly bulge, deep to the root, held there, locked together by the thick tie of muscle, where he belonged. It was his nature, his purpose, his everything.
With a cry and a shudder, he came again, his hole squeezing hungrily at Medic and begging for more.
Medic was happy to give it. He bucked up in rough, shallow strokes, gripping those woolly thighs tight enough to bruise as he fucked the faun with all he had, pulling at him from the inside on every attempted egress only to slam in again and force mindless bleats from Sniper's slack mouth.
He wasn't sure whether he wanted to mate him or eat him, the sound of his prey driving the wolf into a frenzy. Finally, it was too much, and Medic had to let go of Sniper's shoulder, bloody mess that it was. He fell to his knees, dropping the faun to the floor only to lift his legs and roll him over to face him, still speared on his length. He folded Sniper nearly in half as he spread his legs and released them, planting his palms on the floor for purchase as his hips began to pump in frenzied overdrive.
Sniper sobbed and bleated, his arms limp above his head, his legs dangling in the air on either side of Medic, completely gone, just a creature of sensation and nothing more as again his cock rose before even fully flagging, each thrust milking precome from him to dribble onto his belly as Medic ravaged him with lupine grunts of effort.
To Medic it felt like forever, to Sniper it should have been forever, until finally the great wolf threw his head back with a howl and slammed home, pumping the supine faun full of his seed in hot, voluminous gouts. He humped into him, milking every last drop he could deep into Sniper's belly, making it swell with the sheer volume of semen filling his insides and stoppered there by the knot that held them together.
With a scream, Sniper came a final time, adding one last rope of come to the mess of body fluids soiling him, splattering his belly with his own hot seed.
Neither had time for any afterglow, however, at the sound of sneakers on the porch. Medic's ears pricked up, but there was no time to react before the RED Scout's face poked into the doorway and the young man's eyes went wide, his jaw dropping open in horror.
Scout saw a massive creature, wolf and man clad in dark fur and piercing blue eyes, claws and muzzle stained red, crouched on all fours atop what looked like the BLU Sniper, but with strange new monstrous features. The beast had his prey's legs in the air, body bent in half, fucking him and howling as the poor man lay there limp and sobbing on the floor, blood seeping from a bite wound in his shoulder.
Jawing at the air dumbly for a moment, Scout fought to catch his breath. He stumbled backward, the sound fully alerting the great wolf, its pale eyes turned on him and meeting his own, piercing straight through him. In that moment, he found his voice, screaming in abject terror.
Medic grinned, teeth and maw bloody, tail wagging. He jerked to dash after the shrieking human, only to stop as the weight around his cock impeded him. He was still firmly and freshly knotted inside of Sniper, who whined at the sudden movement but otherwise lay there boneless on the floor, gulping down air and drooling. He looked between his mindless mate and the RED shaking in fear and growled, then merely scooped an arm under Sniper to pull him to his chest, lifting him near-effortlessly.
With a yelp, Scout backpedaled, stumbling off of the porch and tripping, barely catching himself with his hands before he went tumbling into the dust, and scrambled back onto two feet. With all he had, he took off for the RED base, screaming, "INCOMING!"
Medic leapt after him, Sniper still knotted on his cock, and gave chase.
The orgy continues after a short break for snacks and drinks. Medic and Heavy sneak away for some private time involving some gloves and a lot of lube. Engie and Pyro have a romantic moment of their own. Sniper gets to have a good stretch. Demo and Scout both really like to watch. All the while, the clock ticks closer and closer to midnight.
Ao3 Link!
Part of Monstrous Intent!
How the FUCK did I never post this here?! Omg I'm so sorry guys! Better late than never but YEESH wtf Luna?! December was kind of a hell month ngl.
Warnings: FISTING, baybee!
---------
"Liebling, mein sußer Bärchen," Medic cooed, pressing gentle kisses to Heavy's shoulder, nosing through the soft, fluffy hair there. The giant lay before him on his side, one leg hitched up to allow him access as his gloved fingers slowly slid in and out of him, slippery with lube. "You're so beautiful like this, naked and in pleasure," he soothed, smiling against warm skin.
Soft moans rumbled in Heavy's throat as Medic took his time teasing him open, two fingers inside of him with no signs of more any time soon. Typically the doctor had little patience to take things slow in bed, but when it came to working Heavy open properly, he was willing to take the time. Unlike himself, Heavy wasn't nearly so practiced with taking large things, and Medic was firmly of the stance that a sweet, fuzzy little ass like Heavy's deserved gentleness and a soft touch to work him up to the rather challenging penetration to come.
Not that Heavy was complaining. Medic had big hands, and it was nice to be pleasured and pampered with sweet nothings and soft kisses before the man pushed his fist inside of him.
"Moy golubchik," Heavy sighed, reaching back to touch his lover, to pull him close against his back.
"I'm afraid I'm not your dove right now, am I?" Medic said, a bit sadly. He shifted his shoulders a bit, missing the now-familiar weight on his back and the movement of extra limbs.
"You have always been my dove, little Bertie," Heavy soothed. "Does not matter what you look like."
Medic giggled at that, nosing into the middle of Heavy's back with a contented sigh. "I do look forward to being back to my old self tomorrow, though," he admitted. "I've grown so accustomed to my new body."
"It does suit you," Heavy admitted.
"You like it?"
"I love you."
"That's not what I asked."
Heavy chuckled as Medic's fingers went still. "I do," Heavy said, a sigh leaving him as Medic's fingers resumed their slow come-hither thrusts. "You look beautiful with wings, and with scaly arms, like fancy opera gloves. Clawed feet, dangerous like you always are. Scaly legs, like knee-high stockings."
"Of course you'd enjoy the lingerie-adjacent aspects of my appearance," Medic tittered. He gently lipped at Heavy's back hair, sliding his fingers deeper and enjoying the moans it summoned.
"My doktor is beautiful. Looking like bird man only make him more beautiful," Heavy assured him between sighs of pleasure.
"Thank you, mein Kuschelbär," Medic hummed. He pressed a soft kiss over Heavy's spine. "You are beautiful too, you know."
"Am giant man. Not beautiful."
"Oh, but you are," Medic assured him, flicking his fingers to press against the giant's prostate and make him jerk with a gasp. "Giant, muscular, powerful, but soft, with so much fluffy hair all over you. Intimidating and cuddly at once, and with your proud nose and sharp eyes, and your rumbling, warm voice. You're a feast for the senses."
"Spacibo," Heavy hummed, smiling gently at the compliments, genuinely flattered. Heavy knew he was a decent looking man, but to hear Medic tell him how beautiful he found him made his heart soar. "I am sure you look forward to having both of my hands back."
Medic chuckled. "Both of your hands and the ring you wear's power," he said, voice dipping low into something more lurid. "I want my big, strong Bär back in all of his glory."
Heavy snickered at that. "I think you like me as jotun more than as regular Misha."
Medic thrust both fingers in to the hilt and curled them into Heavy's prostate, making the giant jump with a cry as a rough bolt of pleasure shot through him. "Oh, Mishenka, you are beautiful no matter what. But I like both for different reasons."
Heavy huffed out a soft laugh through the haze of sensation at the cutesy way Medic said his name. "I think you like both for same reason, just different strength."
With a snicker, Medic nosed into the fluff at Heavy's shoulder blade. "Maybe," he admitted. "Maybe."
*
"Get your filthy paws off of the booze, you damn dirty sheep!" Soldier barked, palming the pitcher of jungle juice in an effort to pull it out of Sniper's grasp, halting the bushman from pouring out the last of it into his cup.
"Rack off, mate! This turp's the only shit strong enough to bloody feel with this faun's liver!" Sniper groused, keeping his grip firm on the pitcher's handle and leveling a glare at the djinni.
"And I've been burning through it faster, so I wanna get drunker to stay buzzed longer!" Soldier argued back, yanking and setting Sniper off-balance.
Both of them were mostly drunk, words slurring and postures swaying, their post-orgy alcohol consumption bolstered with the excitement of more chaos to come.
"Listen, mate, I'm 'alf-convinced I'm in rut on toppa everythin' today. Now I suggest you let go of this grog, because I'm not gettin' fucked right now which means I'm ready to fight," Sniper warned, his voice sinking into low, simmering tones.
Soldier grinned, feeling himself growing more defined and solid with each passing moment. He leaned in. "Son, I've seen you fight up close. I'll have you sheared, spun, and crochet you up a blanket of your own ass-wool before you could even land a punch on me."
Sniper had to admit it was a pretty funny insult even as he reared back and cracked Soldier with a headbutt, horns colliding with the djinni's helmet in a clatter and a ring of metal. Soldier whooped out a laugh in reply as he staggered back then returned fire, surging forward to headbutt Sniper in turn, making the faun stagger back in surprise.
"Good hustle, private!" Soldier laughed, getting into a ready stance in anticipation of another headbutt coming his way. "Use every weapon at your disposal, including all of your body!"
"What is this, a CQC lession?" Sniper asked, disbelieving.
"It can be if you want it to be," Soldier replied with a grin. He rushed into Sniper's personal space, surprising him with the ease with which he captured his arms and darted behind him, yanking them above his head in a full-nelson, clasping his hands together against the back of Sniper's neck. The bushman had to hold his wrist at an awkward angle to keep from spilling the booze, and let out a disappointed sound as Spy arrived to pluck the container from his grasp and set it down.
"Me booze!"
"Worry less about your booze and more about your ass, private!" Soldier barked. He dropped his legs out from under himself, falling back to the ground with Sniper atop him, and wrapped his legs around the faun's, spreading them and immobilizing him. Sniper yelped, struggling against the shorter man's superior strength, writhing in his grasp.
"You fuckin' cunt, I'm not—" Sniper's senses expanded as he wriggled in Soldier's iron grip, his legs spread, his body at the stronger man's mercy, his back pressed to his warm chest and belly. He was hard in nearly an instant, and felt Soldier's own erection beginning to press against his woolly backside. "You, er, you got plans for me in this position, mate?" he asked, abandoning any prior train of thought.
"I got one I think you'll like," Soldier chuckled. He unwrapped his legs to stabilize himself, a few sloppy humps getting him between Sniper's furry cheeks, and a final buck pushing him inside, making the faun gasp in delight.
Spy looked down at the two drunken idiots on the ground, Soldier thrusting up into Sniper while holding him in a full-nelson and grunting with the effort, the bushman's cock bobbing with the motion. He shook his head and proceeded to pour himself the final cup of jungle juice and return to the fire with Scout and Demoman, who were discussing the possibilities of filling the dullahan's extradimensional space with dry ice to see if it would make him into an improvised fog machine.
He sipped the concoction with a grimace, the juice trying its best and failing to overpower the combination of boozes from the table and what was obviously his everclear, something he would have a terse discussion with Medic about later. He should have never invited that unrepentant thief over for that one coffee date with intent to impress. It had shown him exactly where he kept his stash hidden.
The sheer brazenness of the theft forced him to have to respect it, and he hated that.
"Aye, but if time disnae move in there, would the vapors even come out, lad?" Demoman asked, rubbing at his chin.
"Ah, yeah, I forgot about that. Wait, so if time doesn't move in there, and Bombinomicon loaded Soldier up like a damn payload wagon until Merasmus shook it all outta 'im, does that mean we can just load that sucker up with whatever we want ten square feet 'a an' have it at the ready whenever? Does the temperature stay the same? Could we throw a few cases 'a beer in the fridge, get 'em all frosty, then shove 'em in bottle by bottle then pull 'em out later on a nice hot day, an' they'd still be cold? Does that mean all the jizz you got floatin' around in there is still all fresh an' warm an' straight out the dick? Oh man you could give the biggest fuckin' facial there ever was with the right positionin'!"
Demoman reached up to scratch a chin that wasn't there, then swatted his hand at the air in frustration before busying it with his bottle of beer, scraping at the edge of the label. "O' course ye'd think 'o that," he snorted. "But aye, now we ken a bit o' how it works, we should do some experimentin' once we're sorted back tae normal. I bet Soldier'd be game for that."
"Absolutely! Especially if it involves booze or guns. It's not big enough around an openin' to get a rocket launcher inside, but I bet you could wedge a shotgun in there dependin' on the shape 'a the stock."
"The circumference is really the limiter, isnae it?"
"Ain't it always?" Scout chuckled, elbowing the former werewolf meaningfully and earning a snort of laughter in response.
"I'd say tae ask Mickey but he's a bit distracted, ye ken," Demoman said, gesturing to the moaning pile of men on the ground, Soldier's hands having moved from clasped behind Sniper's neck to holding him by the horns, making the faun go boneless atop him.
"Smuggling," Spy finally said, leveling a look at the men beside him.
"Eh?"
"Huh?"
"Smuggling. If you want a perfect use of an extradimensional space that's part of your body, smuggling. Once you put on a head it cannot be accessed, and as long as the head isn't noticably rotting during any security checks, there's no way to detect that you're undead and would have access to a space like that. So long as they could pass through the neck, you could move any number of illicit and illegal goods anywhere in the world," Spy explained. He took a long sip. "If you wanted to."
Scout and Demoman shared a look and a grin, then turned back to Spy, the bomber asking, "Aye, and what would ye smuggle, then? Drugs? Guns? Counterfeit bills?"
"Inelegant and messy. The amount of paper one could fill that space with is nearly endless. Intelligence, mon ami. Documents roll up nicely to slide into that space. ...possibly small objets d'art, as well."
"You've thought about this," Scout hummed, squinting at his lover.
"I have contingencies in mind for how I would utilize the skills and abilities of every man on this team in most tactical and/or espionage situations, yes."
"Aye, but we only just learned about how the void works yesterday."
"I didn't say it took me a long time to come up with them," Spy purred against the rim of his cup. He took another sip and grimaced.
"Oh, Delly," Pyro sighed, looking up as his sweet teddybear in adoration. Engineer was on his hands and knees, over him, inside him, perched just a bit awkwardly as they lay on the couch together but with enough places to find purchase and allow him to roll his hips languidly, making slow love to him by the fire. "You feel so good, Babybear."
Engineer smiled, pressing their bodies together as he wrapped his arms around Pyro and pulled him close, their lips brushing as he replied, "You feel even better'n that, Firefly. Always do."
Pyro giggled a little at that, "You're always so sweet with me."
"And you're sweet as candy," Engineer replied warmly, punctuating the thought with a soft kiss. "I know today's been a lot, so I think you deserve a lil extra sweetness on top o' that. And I know you didn't get all gussied up for me, but I figured that effort means you wanna feel beautiful, not just look it like you usually do."
A sad smile settled in Pyro's eyes for a moment, and he squeezed Engineer close. "Thanks, Babybear."
"I love you so much," Engineer murmured, his thrusts speeding up just a little, enough to make his lover gasp against his lips.
"I love you too," Pyro moaned around breathy sighs of pleasure, then claimed the kitsune's lips in a kiss.
"Fuuuuuuck!" Sniper warbled, boneless atop Soldier and quivering with overstimulation as he thrust up into him. Getting fucked with the powerful senses of a faun was already so much, and adding to it the increased stimulation of Soldier's djinni body had him seeing stars, staring blindly up at the night sky and letting himself be manhandled. His arms were half-numb and he couldn't bring himself to care, legs spread wide and cock bobbing with every thrust, painfully hard and untouched.
"Lookit that," Scout said with a laugh, pointing over to the men fucking on the ground. "Snipes lost in it. Whenever Pyro fucks me I get that look. It's so much. That guy's in heaven right now."
"He's gorgeous," Demoman hummed wistfully, watching his husband in the throes of pleasure.
"Yanno, it'd be a shame if we let 'im go a whole day as a faun an' didn't really stretch 'is ass out," Scout said, thoughtfully.
"Lad's had his hooves in the air all day. He's gettin' a workout, dinnae ye worry."
"No, I mean stuff 'im with dick! DP! Gettin' opened up like that's next level, I swear."
"Aye, fair enough."
Spy looked over at the two, then looked at his half-empty cup, and frowned. Mentally, he weighed his options for a long moment before ceasing to care. He downed the last of his drink and tossed the cup into the fire, then turned to the mercenaries on the ground. "Soldier!" he called from his seat on a crate.
Soldier craned around Sniper to look at Spy with curiousity, grinning as he saw the rogue had tugged aside the bedsheet he wore and was stroking himself to hardness. "Yes?"
"Bring him here. We can share Mundy."
"Oh gods," Sniper moaned at hearing that, only to yelp as Soldier shoved him off to climb up from the ground. Any complaints were quickly silenced as the djinni grabbed him by the horns and pulled him to his feet to drag him over to Spy.
Sniper stumbled after Soldier, barely able to hold himself up but unable to let himself stop until he was in front of Spy, the jotun's purple-crowned cock growing tantalizingly before his eyes. He salivated, wanting nothing more than to swallow it as deep as he could and see if he'd picked up Scout's lack of a gag reflex along with the rest of his changes.
God, it was long enough to reach the bottom of his neck. Sniper swallowed the saliva pooling in his mouth, only to let out a sound that was pathetic even to him: a desperate little mewl as Spy's massive hand wrapped around his horn and tugged him closer, Soldier's grasp falling away.
"You're quite excited for this, are you?" Spy teased, unwilling to let that little sound go unremarked upon.
Sniper tried to summon a snappy comeback, but found nothing there. His head was empty, his only thoughts of need and hunger, pleasure and desire. All he could think about was Spy's mouth, his cock, his big hands, his warm body, and Soldier beside him, his cock still slippery with lube and come from Sniper's well-used hole, wishing he would go back to his task. He looked up at Spy with watery, lustful eyes.
"Oh, he's fuckin' gone," Scout chuckled, watching with amusement.
With a smirk, Spy reached out for the ambient magic around him with a flourish of his hand. He found it a little easier than last time, but still strangely distant. All the same, he shaped it into his familiar spell and grabbed Sniper's ass, cupping its narrow entirety with one oversized hand. "Koibito Uketoru," he murmured, chuckling as Sniper shuddered at the sensation of the spell taking effect.
"Enjoy the ride, Snipes!" Scout said, watching eagerly as Spy lifted the bushman into his lap.
What little werewithal Sniper had left was put to use settling into place with his knees on the crate, hefting himself up and taking hold of Spy's cock. Lining himself up, he sank smoothly down onto Spy with a stuttering groan, bowing forward against the rogue's chest as he took him to the root.
Spy hissed at the tight, slippery warmth engulfing him, letting himself relish Sniper's depths as he tilted his head back and let his eyes fall closed, both huge hands coming to rest on the faun's hips, holding him steady as the smaller man shuddered and gasped. He was speared deep, and Spy could feel the tip of his cock pressing firmly at the man's limit, where the sharp bend of his intestines meant he could go no further without physical harm. The realization did funny things to Spy's gut at the thought, disgust and arousal fighting each other in the clenching of his own insides in sympathy and horror.
If Sniper was thinking about it, it didn't seem to bother him at all, the faun's forehead pressed to Spy's chest, hot breaths puffing out of him and ruffling the sparse hair there as he struggled to recover. He felt like he was on fire, so small in Spy's lap, so full of his too-long cock, his woolly legs trembling. He tried to find a place to put his hands, sliding them up Spy's narrow sides. He tried to wrap them around the man, but the positioning felt awkward, and he didn't have the werewithal to consult Spy himself.
With a soft chuckle, Spy looked down to the struggling faun in his lap and plucked his hands from around him. He directed them up, to encircle around his neck, and bent forward to make it easier for Sniper, who gratefully grasped at him to give himself a bit of purchase, leaning back to look up into Spy's softly glowing eyes.
"Soldier, if you would?" Spy asked, gaze flicking to the djinni and his quickly-crumbling patience at watching the man he'd been fucking climb on a different cock.
Soldier grinned, not bothering with words when action would speak loudly enough, and settled himself in behind Sniper. He took hold of the faun's woolly cheeks and spread them, looking with hunger at his pink hole speared on the grey-purple length of Spy's jotun dick, and pressed the head of his own cock against it, making Spy hiss at the strange sensation. He let go enough to grab the base of his length to stabilize himself, then pushed in alongside Spy, spreading Sniper open around both of them.
Sniper arched back, a bleat of pleasure forcing its way out of him as he was stretched wider around both men, those beautiful thrumming djinni flames back inside of him at last. The heat and crackle of electric pleasure that raced through him made him shake, soft paroxysms of sensory bliss rocking him and making him crave more. "Jane," he barely grit out, panting and squeezing around the cocks deep inside of him, nonsense moans chasing the single word as Soldier slid in to the hilt and Sniper was full of them.
Soldier pressed a kiss between Sniper's shoulderblades, a soft groan escaping him as the faun clenched at the cocks inside of him, nearly stealing his breath with his body's tight embrace. "You good, Mundy?"
"Aces," Sniper barely managed to choke out, trembling between them.
"Good. Because I am not done fucking your ass yet," Soldier grunted. He grabbed hold of Sniper's horns again, forcing him to bow backwards as he yanked him into a brutal arch and bucked in, forcing a wail from the faun.
Spy chuckled, hands settling back on Sniper's hips. He bent forward over him, making sure they stayed in eye contact as Soldier began to set a rhythm, thrusting into Sniper and against Spy, pulling sounds of pleasure from both men. Sniper's eyes were watery and unfocused, his pupils blown wide and his mouth hanging open around nonsense moans, overwhelmed and entraptured, his whole body alight and ablaze as Soldier took him eagerly. "Mon ami, you wear pleasure so well," Spy soothed. "I wonder if being a faun simply does that to a man, or if some men are just so well suited to being a faun."
Scout lifted an eyebrow at that, a small smirk crossing his lips as Spy sweet-talked his friend while Soldier railed him. Spy had a point, but more than that, he had a look on his face that Scout knew well. That kind of look he got when he was too turned on for guile, and was simply speaking earnestly. It was so cute, and Scout hoped the man's deeply-hidden but utterly obvious sentimentality would get the best of him. Sniper looked like he might start crying if Spy kissed him, and Scout couldn't help but find it simultaneously adorable and hot.
It seemed he wasn't the only one, judging by the way Demoman's hand came to rest on Scout's thigh, beggaring his attention. Scout turned back to the headless Scot, following the line of his body down to the obvious bulge in his trousers. "You wanna fuck?" the former faun asked plainly, grabbing Demonan's thigh and giving it a squeeze. "I'll even let you get me from behind so we can both watch those three. I know you love watchin' Snipes get it."
"Lad, remind me tae kiss ye when I've got lips again," Demoman chuckled, rising from his seat to open his fly and tug his cock out.
"You could stand to kiss me more anyway," Scout teased, climbing to his feet and dropping his trousers. He bent over the crate upon which he sat, presenting his ass for the older man with a wiggle.
Demoman cast about for some lube, only to spy a bottle sitting nearby on one of the folding chairs and snatch it up. He took up his spot behind Scout and slapped his cock against the crest of the garuda's ass, watching the way his wings shuddered a little in anticipation. "Aye, yer a fine bird," he teased, popping the cap and squirting a more-than-healthy amount of lube onto himself. He pulled back, then spread Scout's cheeks with his free hand, squirting more between them and making the runner jolt at the cold.
"Yikes! You dumpin' the whole bottle on me?!"
"Wannae make sure yer sloppy, lad. I dinnae plan tae worry about fingers, or goin' easy."
Scout grinned at that, his cock twitching in anticipation. "Then don't go easy," he replied, grabbing the crate and taking a long, deep breath, concentrating on trying to relax.
Demoman tossed the empty bottle and took hold of Scout's ass. Spreading him open, he slowly pushed in. He hesitated as Scout cursed, his breath hissing and his head bowing under the strain, but he didn't tell him to stop, so he didn't. Slowly, letting the younger man ease into it, Demoman slid in to the root. If he'd had any eyes they'd be rolling back at the maddening tightness, his guts clenching up at the feel of his balls against the garuda's lube-slippery taint and the way he whined and hissed as his hole twitched and clenched around him.
"Jesus," Scout gasped, realizing that perhaps he'd gotten too used to how easily his faun's body relaxed and accepted penetration. It was so much, the burn and prickle of being forced open around Demoman's girth throwing sparks through his whole lower body, making his thighs quiver as his legs struggled to hold him up. His wings quaked and shuddered, feathers fluffing up a bit in his duress, his black nails digging into the wood of the crate as his talons did the same for the soil upon which he stood. Gratefully, he was very aware of the fact that Demoman was not moving, allowing him a chance to adjust in spite of saying he wouldn't go easy, and in the moment he treasured the man for that.
Looking up at Sniper sandwiched between Spy and Soldier, the jotun having finally claimed his mouth in a sloppy, hungry kiss as the djinn hammered roughly into him, Scout felt that jealousy bubble up again. The strain of being stretched out was so very good, but he couldn't help but grudge his friend for what he had anticipated as being his role, his pleasure, his evening of getting fucked by his team and passed around like a sex toy, a party favour.
"Dinnae be jealous," Demoman soothed, following Scout's line of sight. He bent over the smaller man, pressing his belly to Scout's back, enjoying the feeling of feathers against his undead skin, and laid his hands on his shoulders, rubbing them gently. "That'll be ye again tomorrow. And I'm sure we'll all give ye the dick ye didnae get tonight, with interest. Be happy for the lad for now, aye?"
"I am, but it don't mean I ain't jealous too," Scout huffed, his voice pinched as he tried to force himself to relax, more tension in his body than he'd realized.
"I ken, but at least yer still as braw as ever, with these lovely wings tae boot," Demoman teased, rubbing down to where Scout's wings emerged from his back and massaging him there a bit.
Scout gasped, pleasure thrumming through him where the bomber's fingers pressed in at the border of feather and flesh. He'd entirely forgotten about how that was an erogenous zone for Medic, so it stood to reason it would be for him. "Shit," he hissed.
"Feels good?" Demoman hummed, knowing the obvious answer. "Dinnae worry, love. I'll give ye a good time."
Love. The sound of it resonated in Scout's mind and made his breath catch. Demoman might not have realized how powerful the little term of endearment was, but it made Scout's heart flutter, his jealousy forgotten as he relaxed under the Scot's warm voice and strong hands.
"Call me that again," Scout fairly whispered, partly wishing but half-afraid of Demoman actually hearing it.
He hadn't accounted for the strange supernatural senses of the dullahan. "Love?" Demoman asked, half-realizing that he'd said it at all. He would've smiled if he could. It might have been cruel, possibly misleading. But Scout had asked for more romance, and he'd said he'd give it to him. And right now, Scout could definitely use a bit more romance. "Aye, love. I can do that," he said, feeling him relaxing around him. "Me wee lovey dove."
Scout took a deep breath at that, eyebrows pinched, face twisting into a grimace somewhere between joy and regret. Fuck, he wanted that. He wanted it more. He wanted it forever. He wanted it for real. He let out his breath long and heavy through his nose and looked up at the trio fucking beside them. Three men he loved, two who openly loved him back, just a few feet away. He looked to Spy's face, the tender expression there as he kissed Sniper, and smiled.
The old man was just as bad as he was.
Taking another deep breath, Scout relaxed, letting it all roll away. Tonight wasn't the time or the place for so much complicated shit. Not when the team was fucking like a bunch of animals outside in front of their base, not when they were all cursed and in the wrong bodies and he was already bent out of shape about it, and not when Demoman was balls-deep in his ass and patiently waiting for him to handle his shit so he could fuck the living hell out of him.
"Demo?"
"Aye?"
"Go. Rail the shit outta me."
"Aye-aye!" the bomber chuckled, moments before the slapping of flesh and Scout's wails of pleasure filled the air.
"I'm close," Pyro gasped, arching his head back as Engineer's teeth closed on the side of his neck, careful with his fangs not to bite too hard at the soft, sensitive skin there.
"Me too, darlin'," Engineer murmured against him.
"You gonna knot me like you did Spy?" Pyro asked breathlessly, a little titter in his voice.
Engineer couldn't hide his amusement. "You want that, Firefly?"
"Lock us together, have to stay inside a little while longer? It's romantic, isn't it? I think I'd be a little jealous if Spy got that and not me."
That made Engineer flush red, sputtering a bit, "I-it was an accident with Spy. I-I didn't—"
"Shhh shh, relax, Sandwich. I'm not actually jealous," Pyro soothed, curling back in to kiss Engineer's cheeks and nose. "I think it's sweet."
"Sweet?"
Pyro merely smiled, mirth in his eyes. "You two've seen some really intimate sides of one another with the play you do," he explained. "It makes sense."
"Pyro, I ain't—"
"I don't care," Pyro interrupted, before Engineer could work himself up, the man's thrusts already slowing. "And I'm just teasing. It doesn't matter. What matters is this. Us. Right now." He kissed Engineer, glad to be kissed back just as sweetly. "And I want you to knot in me, so you can stay in me a little longer."
Engineer sighed, letting the rest slide away. "You're a little shit, you know that?"
"I know it's one of the things you like so much about me," Pyro teased with a grin.
With a chuckle, Engineer picked up his pace, redoubling his chase to the finish. "Sure is. Dunno what that says about me."
Pyro elected not to point out that it was obviously one of the things he liked about Spy, too. Instead flopping back with a moan as Engineer's thrusts pulled him toward the edge all the faster, pounding into his prostate with short, strong strokes. He looked up at his lover, seeing orange bleed into and overtake the blues of his eyes as he carefully let his shape slip. His teeth had already grown sharper, but now his nails were growing as well, pricking at his hip as he squeezed at his softness there. The tips of his ears grew black and began to just slightly point, and then there it was: a shift inside of him.
Pyro moaned as he felt Engineer's cock begin to swell, growing thick and fat at the root and preventing him from pulling back much at all, the short thrusts now enforced by the pull at his rim from within at each attempted egress. It made his eyes cross for a moment, the way the girth of the knot tugged at him, threatening to spread him open and sitting fat and heavy just inside of him. It was almost luxuriously lurid, and he watched Engineer's face, his fangs in his open, panting mouth as he bucked his way to the edge, feeling the pressure in his own belly reach a fevered pitch.
"Come with me," Pyro moaned as his orgasm hit, squeezing tightly around the cock inside of him in a flurry of fluttering clenches as he spilled his seed between their bellies. Engineer doubled over him, tucking his face in the crook of Pyro's neck as he came with a ragged groan, his cock throbbing inside of Pyro as he filled him, the knot keeping their bodies intertwined as they rode out their release together.
"Goddamn," Engineer huffed against Pyro's neck, gulping down air.
Pyro chuckled breathlessly, petting at Engineer's back. "Mmm, love you."
"Love you too, you little terror."
*
Heavy's face ground into the sheets as his body slowly rocked atop the bed. His ass was in the air, legs quaking and quivering as he moaned mindlessly in senseless pleasure as his hands clutched at the foot of the bed. The pain and strain mingled with bodily bliss to have him coasting on pure sensation, his body spread open so wide to welcome Medic into its depths, his cock hanging heavy and untouched beneath him. If he took hold of it he knew it would be over in moments, and he refused to cut short the assault of agonising ecstasy he was undergoing.
Medic knelt behind him, his fist fully inside of Heavy, the man's hole twitching as it closed around his wrist. It had taken a full hour of gradual work, gently and carefully opening Heavy and getting him used to a new neutral before going further, going deeper, opening him wider and wider until the doctor's hand had slipped inside of him. His joints ached, thumb tucked tightly into his palm to work it inside, but the beautiful sounds of pleasure he recieved with each gentle push of his whole hand into the giant, soothed it all away. At least as much as it could. He was feeling achy everywhere, and in the back of his mind reminded himself to drink some water after they were done. He probably hadn't adequately hydrated all day, between the excitement, action, food, and booze.
It didn't matter much, though. Not as Heavy lay moaning and shuddering before him, beautiful to behold as his massive, fuzzy body trembled under the strain of the doctor's entire hand inside of him. He didn't get to engage in the pleasure of giving Heavy something so large nearly as often as the other man got to do it to him, but then Heavy wasn't even in the competiton when it came to the crown of Size Queen. Especially not when Medic was involved. The doctor much preferred to be the one stretched to his limits, braying in blinding animal pleasure and pain in so equal a measure that they became one and the same.
But even so, Heavy was so cute on the bottom, that sometimes Medic simply had to indulge, and the giant was glad to let him.
"Mein süßer Mann, mein liebes Bärchen," Medic soothed, pressing a kiss to Heavy's fluffy shoulderblade, nuzzling into the soft hair there. "You take me so well."
"Herbert," Heavy moaned, finding himself at a loss for any further words. All he needed was his beloved's name. He was all there was in his world. Just Medic, all Medic, always Medic.
Medic tittered, kissing his side. "Misha," he sighed with adoration.
Beside him on the night stand, ignored, their alarm clock read 11:45.
*
Sniper's cries came out half as ovine bleats, his tongue lolling out of his mouth as he bent in a harsh arc backward, Soldier folding him nearly in half as he used his horns less for control and more for leverage as he hammered ruthlessly into the faun's overstuffed ass, frotting furiously against Spy inside of him in the process. Spy was curled over Sniper, biting his neck, sucking hickeys into his flesh for something to do with his mouth as he moaned shamelessly against his heated skin. He gripped Sniper's hips tightly, urging him to motion in turn, rocking him on his own cock, shoving him back to meet Soldier's thrusts with the dull clap of fiery flesh on the faun's woolly ass, his tail wagging furiously as both men manhandled him.
Without warning, Soldier slammed in deep and came, burning a near-blinding white as he emptied himself into Sniper with a growling groan, his hips stuttering to milk out every drop until he was done. Sniper moaned with him, the heat of his release warming him inside, making his eyes cross as he arched back in the djinni's grasp. He pulled out quickly, stepping back and flopping into a folding chair, spent and sated.
Sniper tugged himself blearily upright as his horns were released, dizzy and red-faced, only to find himself further manhandled. Spy leaned back on the crate, so close he felt like he was going mad, and gripped Sniper's hips hard enough to startle the faun with the power those long, thin fingers could muster. Without much ado, he resumed moving Sniper, pulling him up and shoving him down, fucking him on his cock like a toy as hot, desperate breaths puffed between clenched teeth.
Spy bowed backward, planting his feet to buck up with each slam down, making him hit deep with each push, punching as far as anything could inside of Sniper and making him see stars. It was gruesome in how good it felt, and it kicked Sniper over the edge, a ragged wail leaving him as he came untouched, his cock bobbing with all of the motion as he shot in an arc, come splattering Spy's chest and belly as he arched and fucked up into him. With a hoarse cry, Spy joined him, the hot seed hitting his skin and the tight squeeze around him enough to drag him over the edge alongside Sniper, pumping full of yet another load.
Beside them, Scout whimpered, his hand slipping under himself to tug at his own cock at the sight, suddenly very much wanting to add to the mess on Spy's slim chest and mat down the sparse hair there with hot, sticky come. He was beautiful like that, arched back and glassy-eyed and overcome with pleasure, sullied and sated and messy, so unlike the carefully put-together man he normally was. It sent a pang of need right to Scout's gut, and he wanted to get the whole team together to just jerk off onto him, covering him in their seed and watching him luxuriate in the filthiness of it all.
Demoman slammed into Scout, now merciless in his strokes and chasing his release with equal vigor, both enamoured with the slim, beautiful body beneath him and the one atop Spy, overwhelmed with pleasure from every angle and crying his release to the heavens. He'd spent nearly all day fucking the man and still wanted to add to the mess of semen inside of him, to kiss him and mark him and grab his narrow ass and squeeze it as he filled him up. Sniper was absolutely gorgeous mid-coitus, the man wearing the act of sex like it were lingerie, as tantalizing to watch as to touch.
The moans beneath him, increasing in volume, brought back his attention to Scout's shuddering wings and bowed, flexing back as Spy and Sniper began disentangling from one another. The runner had a glorious, round, shapely ass that took his cock like it was made to do it. Even without being a faun, Scout was in his element, squeezing tightly around him to make each thrust steal the bomber's non-existent breath, make him chase his pleasure deep within him with hurried need.
Demoman thought himself spoiled. Married to the most amazing man he'd ever met, friends with and loved by an absolutely gorgeous bloke whose body was tantalizing, ethralling even, as he clenched so hard it felt like he was trying to keep him from withdrawing to thrust again. His hands on Scout's hips had to hurt, gripping him hard enough to be yanking himself forward with each thrust, moving Scout bodily atop the crate with each slap of flesh and grunt of pleasure, the slick, tight heat of the runner's hole nearly too much to bear.
Scout's hand flew over his cock, his moans breathy and desperate, and with a nasal keen he came, jerking himself out against the side of the crate and clamping down around Demoman in vicious, hungry flutters that milked the dullahan over the edge after him. Demoman's voice seemed to come from all angles as he cried out and emptied himself into Scout, burying himself deep and grinding until he couldn't stand it any longer, going still and flopping on top of him, panting without need.
"Cripe," Demoman groaned, petting at Scout's wing muzzily.
"Goddamn, Demo. I gotta get you to fuck me while you watch Snipes get railed more often," Scout moaned, squeezing at him for emphasis. "You fucked me like you were tryin' to get through me to get at 'im!"
Demoman laughed at that. Scout had summed up the impulse surprisingly well. "Aye, fair enough."
From the drink table, Engineer called out, "Y'all want some beers?"
Most of the team mumbled out breathless affirmatives. Spy merely lifted one too-long arm and with his too-large hand gave a weak thumbs-up.
*
The context in which Heavy's voice was loosed in pleasure presented such a lovely dichotomy. On top or when dominant he was triumphant, rough, booming and larger than life. He growled with his thrusts and roared when he came. But subservient or on the bottom, and he was so delightfully different. His voice came out in soft gasps and hisses, little moans and whimpers to urge his beloved doktor to continue, to do as he pleased, to know that he loved it too, and was enjoying it all. He shuddered and quivered, supplicant and docile, gently quiet in his strain and bliss.
Those soft panting breaths and whispy whines were music to Medic's ears, the mighty bear of a man brought low by a fist in his ass, praising his beloved Bertie and begging for more in bare whispers.
It was a shame, then, that Medic's aches were beginning to actively bother him. Certainly, it had been almost an hour of simply playing with the man and making him squirm as he stretched wide around his admittedly large hand, but an overall malaise was beginning to sweep over Medic as he tried to enjoy himself, and his discomfort was rapidly starting to outpace his arousal. He took a deep breath and shook his head, feeling a tension in his temples as though he'd been clenching his jaw too tight for too long, and a pain begin to throb up at the bridge of his nose, spreading across the front of his face and into his skull. He grunted, his hand slowing to a stop, and pinched at that spot in annoyance. "Ach."
"You are alright?" Heavy asked, half-turning to look over his shoulder at Medic, who plucked his glasses off to set them on the night stand beside him.
"I'm fine, Schatz," Medic assured him, giving him a dismissing wave of his hand. "Just a headache. Give me a moment, bitte."
"Of course, my dove," Heavy assured him warmly.
As the pain began to creep into his mouth, his gums, his teeth, he feared that perhaps, it was not just a headache. He slowly worked his hand out of Heavy, flexing his fingers once they were free and the giant sagged on the bed. It was at that point that he realized that his other hand hurt as well, pain flowing through the knuckles of all of his fingers, and that the discomfort there wasn't merely the result of having his fist inside of a man for so long.
His toes soon felt the same pangs, tight prickles of pain that spiked in waves out from each joint into the surrounding bone and muscle, and all of its connecting tissues. His knees and elbows came next, followed by hips and shoulders, extending up to his pelvis and the lower half of his spine. Medic grunted, curling in on himself a bit as the pain increased, discomfort like the joint pain that came with a particularly bad flu.
A soft laugh hefted out of him. This was no flu.
It made so much sense, really. After all, why would a curse designed for summary punishment be used to return him to his previous normal? Why would he become the human, when Pyro could be tormented with that fate, giving him a body he'd never known and wouldn't have enough time to understand, let alone acclimate to.
All along, Medic really was the only candidate, wasn't he? A wheeze of laughter bubbled up within him, exiting him as a low chuckle. Yes, it made all of the sense in the world. The constant, niggling hunger. The excitement during the chase. The way he wanted to fill his mate with something big and thick. It added up splendidly.
And here, now, Medic watched the hairs on his arms stand on end as pain prickled through his whole body, his skull and spine nearly agonizing with the potency of the ache within his very bones. He looked to the clock, squinting without his spectacles on, and read the time. 11:59pm.
"Dokor, you are alright?" Heavy asked again, regarding his lover with concern. Medic was... laughing?
Medic grinned, his teeth too-white, too sharp, suddenly wrong in ways that made some deep, animal terror flair to life within Heavy's gut. Medic laughed, excitement overriding the discomfort, his chuckles rising higher as his hands shook with the strain of growing agony. How fascinating! How exciting! Soon, he would get to learn so much from first-hand experience! He fairly giggled, looking with wild eyes to his lover.
"Misha," he said, voice strained, "we may have... lost track of time." His eyes were alight with pure manic delight. He hunched forward, near-yelling in a mixture of pain and giddy glee. "And I have reason to believe that Pyro is in fact not the werewolf!" he crowed, rising into an outright cackle.
The team gets back to base, finishes setting up, and gets to partying! Unsurprisingly, it doesn't take long before things devolve into an orgy.
Ao3 Link!
Part of Monstrous Intent!
Warnings: Public sex, mild intoxication (nobody's drunk enough to make consent dubious, but they are drinking), Dullahan Neck Sex, Rimming, mention of Fisting, jokes about Sniper being a Harkness Test kinda guy
(Within Monstrous Intent BLU Spy and BLU Scout are not related in any way. They are in fact different species.)
---------
Once back on base, BLU team piled out of the truck and walked through the gate to hear music drifting over the battlefield from RED's side. Their party had already started, leaving the battle-worn BLUs feeling antsy to begin their own celebrations.
"Fuck it, we'll be back to normal in the mornin', right? Let's just relax an' have our damn party," Scout said, stretching his arms and wings. "Been lookin' forward to it, even if it ain't gonna be as fun gettin' passed around without bein' a faun," he chuckled.
"Well I'm lookin' forward to it," Sniper teased.
"We can pass both o' you around, don't worry," Engineer chuckled from his place in Pyro's arms, curled up and cozy.
"So what'd you get to eat, anyway? I'm starvin'."
"Mostly freezer pizzas," Pyro said lamely. "Since Engie hadn't figured out how to get around on two legs yet by that point, we figured something quick and easy would be best, rather than try and deputize someone else for the grill."
Spy's nose wrinkled at the thought of eating frozen pizza, but he was quickly soothed as Pyro laid a hand on his arm. "Don't worry, there's other stuff too. Got some apples, some chips and pretzels and other snacks, and I stopped by that bakery you like and got a couple dozen donuts."
"Merci," Spy replied softly, a bit touched by the gesture, even if he wasn't so fond of his love for fried sweets becoming well known. "Honestly, I think even my standards may be lower at this point. Today has been too taxing already. I merely wish to relax."
"What about the meat?" Demoman asked.
"Oh yeah, got a cooler fulla mutton ready to go!"
"Mutton? That's awful exy in the States, isn't it?" Sniper asked, idly playing with one of his horns.
"And hard tae find," Demoman added. "Usually ye only see lamb."
"There was a deal on it. Local ranch had an extra big lambing season this year. Had a ram that was too good at his job," Engineer chuckled. "More mutton than the ranch had orders for so they're tryin' to thin the herd before the problem compounds now."
"Should've solved that problem back in spring, culled the extra lambs and froze 'em for sale rather than let 'em grow up and lose meat value," Sniper grumbled judgementally, his shepherding experience rearing its head. "Yanks don't much buy mutton."
"Hence the deal," Pyro said with a grin. "I may have filled both coolers and snuck one into the freezer already."
"I bet those would go nice on the grill. Indirect heat, low coals, nice 'n slow with a honey 'n garlic glaze," Engineer hummed, licking his chops at the thought.
"Ooh that does sound good," Pyro agreed. "And I wanna try whipping up some old recipes from back home, too."
"What, like back in the middle east or like back in time?" Scout asked.
Pyro looked at him with confusion, as if he hadn't considered how old his favourite recipes actually were. "...maybe a little of both?"
"Just don't forget: silphium has been extinct for a long time," Spy chided.
"Silphium? What am I, Roman? I cook with asofoetida, like an adult."
*
Setup went quickly; an old washtub full of ice chilled bottles of beer while the folding table for meetings had been brought out to hold food and liquor. Crates, folding chairs, and one of the rec room couches had been dragged into a vague u-shape around a circle of stones for a cozy bonfire. A radio sat in an open windowsill, tuned to a local station counting down spooky Halloween songs and any top 40 hit with even the slightest hint of violence to its lyrics or containing the word 'witch'.
The tension and discomfort of the day finally began to flow away as the mercenaries ate their fill and set to drinking, relaxing at last and enjoying one another's company. Some more than others.
About an hour in, Pyro turned from his conversation with Heavy beside him as Sniper trotted up unsteadily and sank to his knees in front of him. Unsurprisingly, he was already naked. "Oh hey," Pyro chuckled as the faun laid his hands on his thighs, fingers kneading gently at them.
"Want a gobby?" Sniper asked with a grin. Pyro couldn't see it but his tail was gently wagging a little. "See what it's like when you don't gotta pay attention to keepin' your prick in shape?"
With a snicker, Pyro wedged his beer in the cushions of the couch and opened his fly. The moment he tugged his cock out, Sniper was on it, diving forward and wrapping his lips around Pyro's flaccid length with a hungry moan. He went to work immediately, suction and the caress of his tongue coaxing his friend to hardness.
"Oh gods," Pyro hissed, flopping back on the couch and letting the faun do his thing, a hand coming to rest on the curve of one horn and earning a soft sound of excitement for his efforts.
A soft whimper left Sniper's nose as he pulled back a bit only to swallow Pyro down, taking him to the root, his lips and nose meeting the former djinni's dark pubic hair, needful sounds dying in his throat. He breathed deep, relishing the scent of Pyro as much as his taste and the firm, hot flesh in his mouth and his throat. It felt right, like he was meant to have him there, just as it had felt when Medic was between his lips while he'd been studying. Just as it had felt when he had drank down Scout's seed greedily while the younger man took a break from decorating. Just as it had felt every time he was inside of Demoman, and his husband in turn had been inside of him. This body was built for sex, lived for sensation, thrived on desire. As he pulled back for air, Pyro's panting sighs filled his ears like music, and the longing he felt to hear more was soul-deep, a yearning he chased with vigor.
He knew that Scout needed sex, wanted it constantly, and luxuriated in every last bit of it when he got it, but he realized now that he never quite understood how deep the satisfaction went. How intense the stimulation was, how absolute the immersion became, and how right it felt to share pleasure with another person. It was ecstatic, it was euphoric, it was damn near a religious experience to offer his body on the altar of fornication and kneel supplicant, praying with his tongue along the underside of Pyro's cock.
It was practically a revelation. One of Sniper's greatest passions in his adult life had always been seeking out new and interesting sexual partners and experiences, after all. He was a man for whom sex had always been at least a little bit of a fixation. But there was the allure of the strange and beautiful, the dangerous and the alien, and the strain of his body to take what it was given, and then there was being literally designed from top to bottom as a vessel for sexual pleasure. It was enough to make him truly jealous that Scout got to experience this every day. And even though his rational mind knew the true insistent insatiability he was enduring today was more than a bit of rut, feeling this way at a more relaxed, casual, consistent pace sounded like heaven on earth.
Dimly, Sniper considered finding that bastard that had changed Scout and demanding the same treatment. But he knew better, pushing away that thought as the idea of outliving his beloved Tavish reared its head, too much to bear.
Pyro hissed, his hips stuttering a little as he sagged bonelessly onto the couch, overwhelmed by Sniper's hot mouth and horny little sounds of desire. He wrapped both hands around the faun's horns—not to direct him but just for some kind of purchase. He was already in no shape to try and take charge of the act. Not as he was just trying to hold on for dear life.
It was strange, sex as a human. He didn't have to pay attention to anything but the pleasure. His body wasn't spreading out, merely going a bit floppy as he was overwhelmed. He didn't have to focus on keeping his dick solid and shaped for fear of it disappearing and denying him the sensation that was making him struggle in the first place. He could just be. And feel. And let Sniper suck his cock like he would die if he denied it. Pyro knew he wouldn't last long, but that was okay. For once today he didn't feel so muted and dull, the pleasure and the emotion enough to keep him present and gasping and make the world feel a little brighter, like he knew it could be.
"Mun—" was all he could gasp out before he came, the faun greedily swallowing down his seed as it filled his mouth until the clenches were over and he was spent.
Sniper pulled off with a moan, looking up at Pyro with eyes full of lust. "Aces, mate. Yer bloody gorgeous."
Pyro smiled at that. "Thanks," he huffed breathlessly. "Though I bet you think I'm prettier the old way."
"You are," Sniper admitted, "but you're not bad as a human either. Especially all done up. Makes the rest of us look like we've put no effort in for the party," he laughed. "Though I guess we didn't need to worry about costumes this year at least."
A soft chuckle left Pyro. "Guess so."
Sniper grinned, a hand drifting down to stroke his own cock. "You interested in seein' what else it's like? As a human?"
Pyro's eyebrow lifted, and he smirked. "Sure." Wobbly from his orgasm, he shifted around until he was on his knees on the cushion, leaning on folded arms over the back of the couch, his ass in the air. "Got lube?"
"Mate, I'm a professional," Sniper chuckled, tugging Pyro's trousers and underwear down his thighs and taking a moment to appreciate the view. He reached around the side of the couch—where he had already stashed a few bottles of lube—and snatched one up, waggling it in the air for Pyro to see before wedging it in the cushions beside Pyro's beer. "And seein' as I'm a professional, gotta do the job right," he added, taking hold of Pyro's cheeks and pushing his face between, making the startled human yelp as his hot tongue lapped at his hole.
Pyro's cries of pleasure had Engineer's head turning to see, a surprising bit of envy bubbling up at the sight of Sniper eating his boyfriend's ass. "I should be doin' that," he grumbled from his seat on one of the folding chairs by the fire. He was holding a human shape, annoyed at how much of his attention it required, like keeping a muscle flexed constantly. And he still couldn't figure out the tails, so he was stuck without pants, his boxers rucked down to allow the limbs to spill over his waistband.
"Is that jealousy or simply regret?" Spy teased from his seat atop a crate beside him.
Engineer shot him a look, annoyed that it was both. "Ain't fair. I ain't practiced at this shapeshiftin' stuff. I ain't about to surprise a feller by turnin' into a woodland creature mid-coitus."
"You're still a man, in spite of that," Spy pointed out, making his friend frown all the harder. "But I understand. Not everyone feels comfortable compartmentalizing like that. I typically do not, even."
"You? Really? But you're naturally a fox all the time, ain'tcha?"
"Oui. That doesn't mean I'm comfortable having sex with a human while shaped like one. It's somewhat distasteful to me. Though I know someone like, say, Mundy would have no compunctions as long as I talked to him through the act," Spy snickered against the rim of the plastic cup in his hand, the rum and coke inside it sloshing about with his movements.
"Never really thought about how much effort you put into holdin' your shape all the time," Engineer mused. "Especially considerin' some o' the stuff I put you through."
Spy smiled at the memory of some of the violent, intense things Engineer had indeed put him through. "I have a few hundred years of practice," he said with a flirty little lift of his eyebrow.
"Wish I'd inherited some o' that with this stupid curse," Engineer mused, his eyes returning to the couch, where Sniper had now climbed to his hooves and pushed into Pyro, and was fucking him with enthusiasm, making the arsonist cry out in ragged pleasure. Beside them, Heavy watched with amusement, palming himself idly through his trousers with a drink in his hand.
Spy smiled sadly to his friend, and reached one long arm over to lay a hand on his shoulder. "You know, the easiest way to improve at something is to test your limits," he said. "And I imagine you'd like to be able to lay your lover down and show him how much you enjoy that makeover of his."
Engineer huffed. "He's gorgeous no matter what, but after all that effort to make himself feel pretty, I wanna make him feel beautiful."
And Engineer said he didn't bother with lofty concepts like the nature of beauty, indeed. Spy hummed a soft little sound of amusement at that. He couldn't help but find it romantic how much love could bring out the poet in anyone. "Let me help you," he said, sliding his long fingers down from the kitsune's shoulder and into his shirt, tickling at his fluffy chest hair.
Engineer's eyes widened as he looked to Spy in surprise. "But you said—"
"You'll merely have to ensure you don't turn into a woodland creature, mon ami."
"I can't guarantee that, though."
"I find it hard to believe a man as stubborn as you would give up so easily."
Engineer pouted at that, his brows furrowed. How dare Spy hit him exactly where it would work. "Fine, you snake," he chuckled, rising from his seat. He climbed into Spy's lap, finding himself a little unnerved at how stretched out the man was as his spindly hands came to rest on his hips and wrapped long fingers around to squeeze his ass.
"If you need to stop, merely tell me," Spy soothed, kneading at his cheeks as Engineer tensed a little.
"I know that," Engineer groused, reaching up to pull Spy down to him, forcing the rogue to bend almost in half for their lips to meet. The kitsune took charge as always, licking into his mouth and chasing his tongue as he fisted a hand in Spy's mask, holding him where he wanted him.
Spy couldn't help but find it charming, feeling the smaller man's cock press against him through his underwear as he tasted him, hot puffs of breath passing between them as their lips met, tongues jousting then retreating to dive in again. There was determination in the Texan's kiss, a need to prove himself, to test himself, to master this challenge and in turn perhaps master something about Spy in the process. It was endearing, and the rogue couldn't help but enjoy letting him take the reins and just enjoy the ride as he, too, grew more aroused with each shallow rock of the smaller man's hips.
"Gods! Sniper!" Pyro cried, hanging onto the couch for dear life as Sniper hammered into him with all his hips could muster. If Pyro wanted the full experience of not having to hold back, Sniper was eager to give it to him, and if the way the shuddering human was panting and whimpering was any indication, he was definitely giving it to him.
"Pretty Pyro," Heavy cooed as he opened his fly and pulled himself out to stroke properly, the sight of his teammates fucking beside him finally too much to simply watch. "Take him so well."
Looking to Heavy with watery eyes, overwhelmed and barely hanging on, Pyro turned his gaze lustfully to the giant's cock, his mouth hanging slack in his duress. "Heavy, can I...?"
With a smirk, Heavy rose from his seat and rounded the back of the couch to stand before his friend, cock in front of his face. "Go ahead, pretty Pyro," Heavy hummed, running a gentle hand through his dark curls, careful not to mess up his hairdo.
A sound almost like relief left Pyro as he took Heavy into his mouth and began to suck, his moans coming muffled as he took a cock from each end, reaching out to free the giant's balls and tease them as his other hand lifted Heavy's shirt to pet at the fluffy hair of his belly.
Heavy groaned, gripping the couch with both hands as he let Pyro play, each of Sniper's rough thrusts moving the human between them bodily, pushing him forward to bob on his cock, taking him deep then retreating before swallowing him down again.
"You know, everything devolved into an orgy so quickly I didn't even notice," Medic hummed, walking out of the base with a pitcher of some kind of juice concoction he'd whipped up from odds and ends in the mess hall refrigerator. He set it down on the booze table and set about pouring liquor into it.
"Aye, with Mickey the way he is right now, it's nae surprise," Demoman chuckled, watching his husband fucking away at Pyro, his tail wagging with excitement.
"Should be me," Scout huffed sullenly. The moment Medic was done building his pitcher, he poured himself some, slugging back half the plastic cup before tugging it away from his face with a wrinkle to his nose. "Jesus, Doc! What'd you even put in this jungle juice?!"
"Everclear!" Medic giggled, holding up the offending bottle. "Spy keeps it on hand in his quarters for that Turkish coffee setup he has, so I simply stole it."
Scout made a face and looked back down at the artificially red contents of his cup, which smelled partly like fruit punch and mostly like rubbing alcohol. "This'd be the best if I still 'ad faun alcohol tolerance," he mused before slugging back another gulp of it.
"Mon dieu," Spy sighed as Engineer freed their cocks and held them in hand. He began stroking them together, moans joining the grunts and gasps of their kissing. "Dell," he hissed, nosing in at his cheek for a bit of air. "How are you doing?"
"Wish I could pay more attention to those sounds you make, but I think I'm all intact. How do I look?"
Spy smiled against him. "Handsome as ever, mon petit reynard. Perhaps you need more of a challenge?"
Engineer chuckled breathily, his eyes fluttering shut in pleasure. "What'd you have in mind?"
"Perhaps something more... in-depth."
Demoman stood beside the drink table sullenly. He kept looking to the pizza with what everyone around him could easily identify as longing, even without a face to express it. He didn't need to eat, but that didn't mean he didn't want to, and in spite of himself, freezer pizzas were a bit of a weakness of his. Cheap, filling, tastes good enough, excellent drinking food; they were so elegant in their simplicity and in absolutely nothing else.
As Solder found his way to the table, half-formed and trailing fire, Demoman watched in jealousy as the djinni proceeded to pick up two slices, hold them together like a sandwich, and devour them in a startlingly small number of bites.
"Chew your food!" Medic reprimanded, ignoring the fact that Soldier didn't have a traditional digestive system at the moment.
"Lad, how d'ye do it?" Demoman asked, sullen.
"The key is to just get it small enough to swallow, and have a drink handy," Soldier replied, then took a swig of his beer.
"Nae, I mean how d'ye deal with nae bein' able tae eat or drink normally?"
Soldier shrugged. "That's the other reason I put on heads. Even if I could get around headless without people screaming and running away or trying to kill me, I like eating too much to not wear one."
Demoman nodded. Right, the whole wearing a head thing. "Me heid rotted nearly right away."
"That's why you need to get fresh ones, like I do! You can take mine, if you want! I don't mind going through respawn!"
Demoman considered that for a long moment. It felt wrong for a few reasons, not the least of which was the fact that Soldier was made of fire at the moment. "I dinnae ken—"
"Or Scout! You could take Scout's head!"
"Woah, why you volunteerin' my head?! You gonna pay the off-hours respawn fee?!"
Demoman regarded Scout for a long moment. Clearly it would work, and he'd seen Soldier put on others' heads before and watched them slowly transform into the shape of the dullahan's own face. But still. It felt wrong. "I dinnae ken."
"It's not like you'll have some other guy's face," Scout pointed out. "It'll change to look like you, dummy."
"So now you're volunteering?" Soldier asked.
Scout sputtered. "No!"
"It doesn't have to be Scout's head," Soldier reasoned.
"Ooh, ooh, what about the RED Demo's head?"
"What about the ceasefire for the parties?"
"Crap, yeah. I doubt 'e'd just volunteer to be decapitated in the middle of a party, huh?"
"Plus he hates monsters."
"Man, what a jerk!"
Demoman waved them both off. "Dinnae worry about it, lads. I'm fine."
"Well if you're not gonna wear a head, can I ask you something?" Soldier asked, looking at the threesome on the couch, then to Spy, who was now kneeling on the ground, bent over the crate with Engineer's face buried between his narrow ass cheeks.
"What's yer question, Soldier?"
"How do you like the whole..." he gestured to his own neck, vaguely, then to the mercenaries currently fucking out front of their base. "Neck thing? I bet Sniper did it to you, too."
Demoman whooped a laugh. "Ach, aye! Several times, actually," he replied, scratching at the back of his neck. "The void's likely fulla spunk, so watch out for that if it carries over once ye've got it back."
"Noted," Soldier replied with a nod and a grin.
"But aye, it's... it's an experience. Wild, but feels so bloody good. Can't compare it tae anythin' else."
"I like it, too," Soldier agreed. He hesitated for a moment, looking the bomber up and down. "Any chance I can try it?"
That caught Demoman off guard. "Try it? Like, fuck me neck?"
"Affirmative," Soldier confirmed. "I've only been on the receiving end. I wanna know what it's like to fuck it. Scout and Sniper have told me good things."
Demoman considered that for a long moment. He was more than a little surprised to be propositioned by Soldier of all people, a friend who had grown distant after such a messy breakup with his double on the RED team. He'd assumed he'd bring up too many bad memories to be a viable hookup for a long time, if ever. Maybe not having his face helped with that a little?
"Aye, fair enough. How ye want me?"
"We can probably take the other side of the couch."
"Dell, please," Spy gasped, draped over the crate with his ass in the air, his arms folded on the ground, forehead resting atop them. His mouth hung open, panting moans spilling over his lips as Engineer's tongue wriggled inside of him, strong hands spreading his cheeks wide, stubble scraping sensitive flesh in ways both painful and arousing for the stretched-out jotun. "Please, I need you inside of me," he hissed, shaking under the assault of his friend's skilled mouth.
"You sure about that?" Engineer asked, still worried. Eating a man's ass was a lot different from fucking him, and as turned on as he was just from licking his hole, putting his dick in him was going to take up a lot more mental real estate as far as concentration went. "If I lose shape—"
"If you lose shape I should hope you'd have the courtesy to climb off of me," Spy said, cutting him off. "The mistake itself is not some abomination; you're a person. Unless suddenly I am not normally a person."
Engineer didn't need to see Spy's face to know that last statement was a challenge. He remembered the first time they'd had a discussion like that, when he had first learned of Spy's true nature. The rogue had soundly put him in his place about his own ignorance, and he wasn't about to make an ass of himself twice. Especially since he'd learned all about what kind of man Spy was in the time since. Quite intimately, in fact.
Without a word the kitsune rose to his feet and looked to the drink table. He whistled and threw up a hand. "Doc! Lube!"
"Jawohl!" Medic called with a laugh, snatching up one of the bottles of lube that sat away from the food. He tossed it to Engineer with a grin, then went back to his busy task of scarfing snacks to soak up a modicum of the liquor in his full cup of jungle juice.
It was a bit silly, really. He should be slotting himself into the proceedings somewhere, perhaps into Scout, specifically. After all, his darling Spatz wasn't in the fray yet, and had been pouting all day about how he had been so excited to be passed around the party. He had instead wandered over to watch the writhing bodies on the couch, looking ready to pounce. But as much as the thought of calling Scout back and bending him over the liquor table sounded amazing, Medic couldn't pull himself away from the food. He was just so hungry, and four slices of pizza and an almost shameful amount of cheese puffs in, he wasn't quite ravenous so much as consistently peckish, not quite full. Maybe he should stop anyway before he ate himself sick. The jungle juice wasn't going to help his gut feel any better, after all.
One more slice of pizza, first.
"Ready?" Soldier asked, steadying himself against the side of the couch as Demoman lay on his back, neck resting on its arm.
"One sec," Demoman said, then opened his fly, tugging his cock out to slowly stroke it, much to the delight of Heavy's wandering eye beside them. "Alright, go."
Soldier guided his cock slowly into the opening of Demoman's neck, his mouth dropping open the moment the very tip passed through into the void. He gasped, his breath shuddering as the strange, arcane vibrations of the abyss thrummed into his flaming flesh and through his body like a wave of sensation. He pushed in to the hilt and winced, bending forward over Demoman and gripping the couch for dear life as the hum of the void engulfed him fully, rippling out from his dick and through the whole of his form, like his entire body were contained in the space, feeling it all at once. "Sweet land of liberty," he grit out, fingers digging into the couch as he shuddered in place, his whole body finding focus in an instant, perfect in shape and form as he quivered under the intensity of what he was experiencing.
"Ye okay, Jane?" Demoman asked breathily, squirming a bit as he was penetrated. Sniper hadn't reacted like this, even with his overpowered senses.
"It's everywhere," Soldier gasped, his jaw shaking as he spoke, voice quavering. "All of me at once, not just my dick."
"Maybe it is because you are all fire?" Heavy offered, looking between the men beside him and down to Pyro, whose lovely lips were wrapped around his cock. He cradled the former djinni's cheek in his organic hand, smiling as his eyes rolled open to look up at him. "Do you think so, pretty Pyro?"
Pyro—blissed out as he was—nodded. A warm, "Mmhmm," hummed around the cock in his mouth.
Heavy groaned softly in reply, his attention fully back on the beautiful man fellating him, the hot, hurried breaths from his nose showing he was clearly nearing his limit as Sniper hammered away behind.
"It's too much," Soldier huffed, hands sliding from the couch to Demoman itself, planting his hands on the man's chest.
"D'ye need tae stop?" Demoman asked, his cock twitching as Soldier squeezed and groped at him as much as he used him to support himself.
"Negatory," Soldier replied. "I need more." And with that, he began snapping his hips, fucking Demoman's neck with abandon, ungentle as his groin slapped against the rim of the bomber's neck, shocking bolts of pleasure into him and making his unearthly cries echo out desperately around them.
Demoman's body went stock stiff, the man grasping at Soldier's wrists for dear life as his hips bucked up on reflex, his cock hard and weeping within mere moments as his teammate railed the abyss in his body with all he could muster. His cries drew everyone's attention, all eyes on the man made of fire humping the headless body of his teammate beside a threesome on the couch by firelight.
"Crikey, Pup," Sniper gasped, his thrusts growing sloppy as he fucked Pyro to the beautiful tune his husband bucking and wailing, being held down and fucked desperately by the djinni; husky, needful sounds spilling over Soldier's lips. "Gonna make me come."
Pyro moaned at that, squeezing tight around Sniper, encouraging him as his own cock hung heavy between his thighs, reinvigorated. He pet at Heavy's belly, fingers threading through the soft hair there, and looked up to him, making eye contact and watching with satisfaction as the giant's blushing cheeks and soft panting showed how close he was in turn.
With a few more thrusts, Sniper buried himself to the root inside of Pyro and came, bowing over the smaller man as he pumped his seed into him, his groan of release taking on a bleating edge. Pyro moaned along with him, and at the vibration Heavy joined Sniper, cupping his cheek as he grunted and filled the attractive arsonist's pretty mouth, watching with hungry eyes as he swallowed it down greedily and pulled off with a kiss to the tip and a smile.
Sniper gave Pyro's hips a squeeze and pulled out, stepping back wobbily with a grin as the former djinni sagged to the couch, spent and soiled and smiling. "'ow's that, mate?"
Pyro replied by flopping onto his side with his head in Demoman's lap, and taking his cock into his mouth without a word, making the bomber scream.
Scout finished his cup of dubious cocktail, having been watching the writing bodies on the couch with interest. He hated how normal his arousal felt, how mundane even being horned up felt compared to the full sensory expansion he'd grown used to over the past almost year and a half. He missed it sorely, hard in his pants with just that to show for it. With some liquor in his veins and a bit of a jealous streak, he decided to go do something about it.
With a satisfied sigh, Heavy tucked his cock back into his pants and ambled over to the drink table where Medic was finishing a slice of pizza and watching Engineer fuck Spy.
"It is good show," Heavy chuckled, wrapping his arms around Medic and making the doctor set down his drink.
"Yes, but not quite as bombastic as the couch," Medic chuckled, embracing his lover in turn. He ground his clothed erection against the giant with a lurid grin, finally distracted from the food.
"My doktor has not had anyone yet?" Heavy asked, a bit surprised.
"I was just getting ready," Medic giggled, his cheeks rosy with intoxication. His healing factor made keeping a buzz such a chore, so he preferred to drink heavily to start with and just do maintenance the rest of the night. "And now I am feeling it, have had what passes for dinner tonight, and I am ready to make it your problem, mein Schatz."
"Me?" Heavy teased. "All of these men here for you to fuck, and still you choose me?"
Medic kissed Heavy, a gentle gesture of romance rather than lust. "I will always choose you, mein Kuschelbär."
"My sweet dove," Heavy teased, nuzzling at Medic's nose and laying their foreheads together. "My little Bertie."
Medic tittered at that. "I want to put my fist in you," he sighed, a predatory grin crossing his teeth.
Heavy matched his expression, one eyebrow lifting in interest. "My beautiful Doktor," he growled, claiming Medic's lips in a more aggressive kiss full of ardor. "Where do you want me?"
"On your hands and knees on our bed. I have extra gloves in our quarters."
Heavy chuckled. "Team does not get to watch?"
"Later," Medic whispered, grinding against Heavy's hip. "Next time, maybe."
"We go together." With that, they stole into the base, leaving the rest of the team to fuck one another under the stars.
Catching his breath as he watched the trio on the couch, Sniper suddenly felt hands on him. Before he could react, he was being yanked to the side, stumbling on unsteady hooves as he was slammed chest-first against the side of the base, a slim, warm body pressing against his back.
"You're doin' awful as the team jizz jar," Scout chuckled, his breath hot against Sniper's neck. "Only fuckin' one guy so far tonight."
"I'm just gettin' started. Jealous I took your job, mate?" Sniper teased. "Sorry to put you outta work."
Scout scoffed atop a laugh, and a hand left the faun as the sound of fabric rustling told him all he needed to know. "You ain't sorry yet, pal," Scout growled, pushing his cock into Sniper's ass.
"Yes, yes, mon dieu," Spy moaned, pillowing his forehead on his arms as Engineer rocked into him in long, languid strokes, filling him to the hilt and grinding deep, only to slowly pull back and push in again. The slight burn of the stretch prickled heat into Spy's belly, each ingress plunging pleasure into him and making his eyes roll back. It was deliciously lurid, lying there exposed with his ass in the air out front of the base with Engineer fucking it for all to see, taking his time and his pleasure of his teammate's body.
He wished he could enjoy it in his proper shape, in the body he'd crafted for himself, his true form. But here, too long with grey skin and pointed ears, he didn't mind so much that the tails twitching in the firelight were Engineer's. So long as that thick, long cock kept filling him over and over, he didn't mind much of anything.
"Goddamn, bein' all stretched out sure didn't make you any less tight," Engineer grunted, his breaths coming rough and heavy as he grit back the urge to slap flesh and pound Spy's eager hole until the rogue was sobbing, like he preferred. He had to be careful. He had to be deliberate. He had to stay aware of his body and its shape, lest he soundly ruin the mood. Spy was putting faith into him, and he hated a little how much that motivated him.
Spy wished Engineer would just rail him stupid like he usually did, but he knew he wouldn't. He was too focused on keeping his shape—which was a good thing, Spy had to keep reminding himself. But it didn't stop him wanting the whole team to see him get fucked silly, drooling into the desert dust.
It was for the best, he supposed. If he were going to be put on display for the team, he'd prefer to look his best while doing it, after all.
"I can't help but hold you close, mon choux," Spy purred, clenching around him and grinning to himself at the choked sound it drew from the stout Texan.
Engineer felt his face burning at the statement, his mouth drawing into a line at the way it made his chest flutter. Nope. Today was too much already. He had too much to think about as it was without Spy saying sweet little nothings like that. He bucked in hard and set a rough pace, done giving Spy a chance to say more shameless things to mess with him.
Spy gasped, suppressing a chuckle as he got what he wanted.
Caught between Pyro and Soldier, Demoman writhed on the couch, his voice coming from all angles at once in boundless pleasure. He clutched at the couch with one hand, the other gripping his own thigh to resist fisting it in Pyro's hair to buck between those plush, soft lips. He jerked and shook, hurtling headlong for the edge without any way to slow himself.
Pyro moaned around Demoman, lavishing the dullahan's cock with leisurely strokes of his tongue and easy suction, rolling his balls gently in his palm. He fellated the Scot unhurriedly, almost casually, as he lay there with his head against the man's thigh and the feeling of come and lube slicking his cheeks. It was decadent, being able to just fuck and suck without worrying about his shape, and he was determined to enjoy it.
"Gonnae," Demoman gasped out, as Soldier's hands wrapped around his neck and squeezed, the djinni's ragged breaths betraying his own unraveling.
"Me too," Soldier agreed, unable to stop himself if he wanted to. Chasing full-body bliss within that arcane orifice, he had to resist the urge to just climb inside of Demoman completely. He knew that bomb fuses stopped burning in there, so he was willing to bet that as good as fucking the abyss felt, fully entering him might not be any fun once he was all the way inside.
It didn't stop him from fantasizing, though.
Demoman's back arched as he came, wailing his release into the desert night as he filled Pyro's mouth with his seed, shaking and shuddering as Soldier fucked him through it until with a cry, the djinni joined him, adding to the mess inside of him.
Pyro moaned as they came together, delighting in the sound of them and the taste of Demoman, gladly drinking him down and pulling off slowly. He kissed the tip of the bomber's cock with a grin, and giggled as it twitched.
Beside them, Sniper relished the sound of his husband's orgasm, his own filthy grunts and groans of pleasure humming off of the side of the base as his cheek pressed against it. Scout had him flush against the wall with his legs spread, one hand wrapped around his cock to shield it from the rough wood as he fucked up into him insistently, hot breaths puffing against his shoulder.
"You like this? Huh? Spendin' all day fuckin'? Feelin' it all so much? Needin' it like you need fuckin' air?" Scout rambled, occasionally punctuating his thoughts with light bites to Sniper's tanned skin.
Sniper moaned, arching back into Scout's thrusts, clenching eagerly around him. "I'm jealous, mate. You get this every bloody day."
"Yeah I do," Scout bragged. "So you better make my day off worth it, pal."
A soft sound of agreement left the faun as he reached back for Scout, to touch him, paw at him, anything. "Need to. Need you."
"I bet you do," Scout chuckled. He bucked in hard, then yanked Sniper away from the wall by the hips, giving him a bit of space before he reached up and took hold of his horns, forcing him to arch his body as he yanked them down and back.
Sniper bleated out a moan, his mouth falling open, tongue lolling out as Scout took rough hold of his horns and used them for leverage to hammer into him. His thighs quaked, his already unsteady hooves threatening to fall out from under him as he became pliant in Scout's grasp.
Scout could feel it, chuckling as his hips slapped against Sniper's woolly ass. "Good shit, ain't it? Just turns you off, reminds you you're made to fuck. Handles for it an' everythin'."
"Crikey," Sniper gasped, reaching out to brace himself against the wall, sensation overwhelming him as he fought to keep upright, each thrust punching pleasure into his prostate and making his cock weep. "You miss it?"
"'Course I do. But I'm gettin' it back tomorrow. So for now I'mma fill your fluffy ass up," Scout replied with a breathless chuckle.
Sniper groaned, bracing himself with one forearm as he snuck his other hand down to stroke himself, a bare few tugs before he came with a whine, clamping down hard around Scout and stealing his breath. A few final bucks and the garuda was coming too, digging his talons into the dirt as his wings shuddered, his voice coming out in a ragged moan. He fucked his load into Sniper, hips snapping until he was finished, going still inside of him and letting go of his horns.
Scout chuckled at that. "We got all night, pal. Don't you worry."
Engineer bit down on his lip, putting it to Spy with as much gusto as he could manage without forgetting about holding his shape. Even stretched out and grey, the rogue was a treat to fuck, clenching and clutching at him with practiced skill, rocking back to meet each thrust and making lovely little sounds to urge him on. Even though it was a little more difficult to manhandle him the way both men had come to enjoy, Engineer did his best to ensure Spy was having as good a time as he was.
And good lord was he having a good time. Skin clapped as he hammered into the jotun, driving deep and stretching him open around his girth, chasing moans and gasps from the other man's throat, knowing that drool leaked over his lips to the dirt below.
That was a particularly endearing trait of Spy's; that the fussy, fashionable, elegant, put-together rogue could be reduced to drooling and wailing with the right application of fingers, tongue, toys, or cock. That he could allow himself that indignity in the throes of pleasure, that vulnerability he'd be caught dead before showing otherwise. It was charming that a man like Spy was willing to be brought to such ignoble lows in the pursuit of physical bliss, and let them see him that way.
Engineer grit his teeth and fucked harder, banishing that thought. Butterflies over Spy were Scout's job, not his. His job was to fuck the former kitsune until he was a mess, ride him hard and put him away wet. He bent over Spy, his belly warm against the slim jotun's back, and reached around, wrapping a hand around his cock.
Spy gasped, shivering at the sensation, at the touch, and Engineer knew by the way his moans grew breathy and wan, that he was close.
Realizing that he knew so intimately what Spy sounded like before he came became another thought for Engineer to push back with the rest. He focused instead on stroking Spy in time with his thrusts. Short, rough bucks punched into him as he followed the jotun's almost hilariously long cock to its head and palmed at it, pulling an animal sound from the larger man.
"You gonna come for me, boy?" Engineer drawled, trying to regain some of his footing in the proceedings, taking proper charge.
"I—I..." Spy whimpered, hips stuttering between the cock in his ass and the hand on his dick, his breaths hitching as he rushed to the edge. Before he could try to summon any more words he came, spilling out over Engineer's hand and into the dirt, burying his face in his arms with a wail.
Engineer's eyes rolled back as Spy's hole fluttered around him, and he ground into that rippling bliss, a strange sensation rolling over him—tight and throbbing—for a bare few moments before he followed behind, filling Spy with his seed with a rough groan.
They went still for a moment, panting, before Engineer made to pull out.
Spy yelped as he was tugged from within, the cock inside of him held fast. A soft laugh chased it, the squeezing of his pelvic floor making Engineer hiss behind him. "I see you didn't quite maintain all of your human shape," he teased, looking back over his shoulder at the kitsune with a smirk.
Engineer's eyes were orange, his ears black at the tips and just starting to point, not quite having begun the slide up his head yet. His fingernails had grown longer and sharper, as had his canine teeth. Most important, however, was the knot at the base of his cock now holding him firmly in place, buried to the root in Spy's ass.
"Dammit," Engineer cursed, looking down at his cock stuck inside of Spy, at the way his hole pulled from inside but didn't allow him exit around the sudden girth within.
Spy let out a soft moan with each attempted pull out, shivers running through him. "Merde," he gasped. "It's been quite some time since I've been the one taking a knot. I'd forgotten how good it felt, to be so full there, so sensitive at my entrance."
"That good?" Engineer asked, licking his lips as he looked back to Spy's purple-flushed face.
"It's very pleasant, like a nice fat plug, but with the added benefit of a partner being the one holding you there." A playful little smile crossed his lips as he canted an eyebrow up. "It's very intimate."
Engineer turned red at that, averting his eyes as he looked back to the place where they were joined. Half the damn time he couldn't tell if Spy was just trying to get a rise out of him or actually testing the waters, but cursed, buzzed, outdoors, and buried in his ass wasn't exactly the time or place to figure all of that out. "S'pose so," he conceded, not knowing what else to say.
Spy huffed out a soft laugh, a little victorious, a little charmed at how flustered and demure the Texan could be. "It will go down in a few minutes, mon ami," he assured him warmly. "Until then, I have to congratulate you. If that is as far as your shape has slipped through all of that effort, then you've gotten quite the hang of it."
"Thanks," Engineer replied with a little huff. "Hope I'll be able to keep the same level o' concentration up with Pyro."
Spy regarded the other man with a smirk. "You have a point, but I suppose that's the difference between sex and romance, non? The feelings involved."
The feelings involved.
Engineer covered up for the way his brow furrowed by bucking hard into Spy and making him curl up and shudder with overstimulation.
A short little vignette on the way home. Pyro learns a little more about how to be human, and the team has a silly bonding experience.
Ao3 Link!
Part of Monstrous Intent!
Originally this was gonna be the start of another chapter but I decided to break it into its own for funsies.
Unsanitary warning: urine and urination is discussed and portayed (in a non-sexual context, for anyone worried).
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The last of the sun's light died off as the mercenaries drove back to their base, stars peeking out overhead as blue passed into black and the lights of the heavens winked to life overhead.
Settled in the bed of the truck with Engineer curled up in his arms, Pyro leaned back and looked up at the sky, a soft smile on his lips. That sky had changed so much over the years, both time and travels making the map of the stars different from the one he'd first learned as a boy. Even if it could be some same familiar sky he'd always known, it still wouldn't do anything to dampen its beauty.
That smile dipped into a frown, Pyro's brow furrowing as he felt a pressure growing. He'd begun feeling a mild discomfort just above his groin during the chase, but now it was getting impossible to ignore, and growing painful. With a sigh, he turned to look in the window. "Hey Medic, can we take a break? I think I need you to take a look at me."
"What's wrong?" Medic asked, turning back to look at his friend. Heavy's hand shot across the cab to grab the wheel and keep the truck on the road.
"I've got a pain, right above my dick."
"Pain? Can you describe it?"
"It's kind of throbby, and dull, and there's this intense pressure."
"Ah, I think I understand the problem. If I recall, you do not produce waste as a djinni, yes?"
"No, my body absorbs and burns up everything I eat and drink, why?"
"Let me pull over," Medic chuckled, turning back to the road and swatting Heavy's hand away as though the giant were being ridiculous.
*
"Okay, Pyro, so you hold your prick and aim away from you," Sniper coached, his own dick in hand as he looked over at the former djinni following his lead. The team stood in a line beside the truck on the side of the road, each holding his penis in hand. Even Engineer had taken human form for the task, standing on Pyro's other side.
"Got that part," Pyro mumbled, his brow furrowed. This was so embarrassing. He was older than most of their species, and here he was, being coached in How To Be Made of Meat.
"You're gonna wanna squeeze your pelvic floor, those muscles there. Instead of clenchin' in like when you're takin' a prick in the arse, you wanna push."
"Push," Pyro hummed, looking down at his own cock thoughtfully. He tried a few different clenches and movements, trying to get his pelvic muscles to do what he wanted.
"Once you get 'er goin', you can ease off and let it just go," Sniper assured him with a grin, then turned back to himself. He took a breath to steady himself, and began urinating.
Gradually, the rest of the mercenaries except for Soldier followed suit, draining their bladders into the dirt on the side of the road in a patter of liquid as Pyro looked around him in confusion. He followed Sniper's example and took a breath and held it, focusing on the push, and let it out as he, too, started a stream.
The pressure in his bladder abated as he pushed it out, not easing up on the pressure until he had nothing left to move. "That feels a lot better," he said. "That felt weird, though."
"You get used to it," Sniper chuckled with a shrug. "Give 'er a couple of shakes, then tuck your old mate away, done."
"More than two an' you're just playin' with it," Scout teased.
"Soldier, why are ye holdin' yer tadger? Djinni dinnae piss."
"Was I supposed to just sit in the truck while you all have a weird pissing bonding experience together next to me? That would be weirder."
Demoman's neck bobbed, as if he were nodding. "Aye, fair enough."
The team goes off to find Merasmus and finds him not home, but luckily Bombinomicon knows exactly where he's gone! He's with some Russian "friends" he owes money to! So the team gives chase! Along the way, Spy tries to teach an old fox new tricks, and Soldier shines bright!
Ao3 Link!
Part of Monstrous Intent!
Canon-typical violence time! Woo! Holy shit car chases are challenging to write!
(Within Monstrous Intent BLU Spy and BLU Scout are not related in any way. They are in fact different species.)
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The late afternoon sun hung low in the sky, sending a golden glow across the land as the team sped over badland roads to Merasmus' castle in Engineer's truck with Medic behind the wheel and Heavy riding shotgun, Pyro seated between them so as not to ruin his new hairdo in the whipping wind. The rest of the team piled into the bed, each fully armed, chatting amongst themselves above the roar of the engine.
"To change your shape, it's not strictly a spell to cast, but it's still very much a magical process. You're going to need to use ambient magic to facilitate it, so you must be able to feel for the magic so that you can use it," Spy explained to the doubtful goggle-wearing fox sitting before him, gesturing broadly with his massive hands.
"That's kinda hard to do when I don't know what I'm feelin' for," Engineer huffed, his tails lashing in annoyance.
"It's..." Spy sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. Teaching a kitsune kit to sense magic was one thing. Teaching a full-grown man who had suddenly been thrust into being a kitsune was so entirely different it almost made Spy forget he'd never actually taught any kits, either. The layer of disbelief and consensus about what reality even was was so developed for this man in his forties that he felt like he had to break him down before starting to build.
And none of them had any time for that kind of bullshit.
"Humans formalized spellcasting because they lack the innate ability to sense the magical energy around them. It is..." Spy thought for a moment, "just the same as humans inventing the geiger counter so as to measure the radioactive energy around them. Except the concentrations of raw magic in the atmosphere by and large are far less dangerous to the body than comparable concentrations of radioactivity."
Engineer stared expectantly at him through his goggles—or doggles, as Scout had dubbed them. "And so magical creatures should be able to sense that innately?"
"Yes, though it does take a bit of concentration, like squinting to sharpen one's vision."
Engineer squinted.
Spy couldn't see his eyes behind the lenses, but he knew what he was doing. "Not literally."
"Then how the hell am I supposed to go about this, Slim? I ain't exactly Gandalf the fuckin' Grey here!"
Soldier perked up at that. "You know who Gundorf is?"
"I heard you listen to that book on tape enough times, I better," Engineer shot, sounding perhaps a bit meaner than he meant it to, judging by the way Soldier deflated.
"Engineer, will you humour me?" Spy asked, taking a final drag of his cigarette before flicking it over the side of the truck.
"Ain't got much else to do right now," the frustrated fox huffed, plunking his butt down on the bed and trying to ignore how Scout kept looking over like he wanted to pet him. He was too ornery for scritches right now. He was sick of not having fucking thumbs!
"Close your eyes. Steady your breathing. Listen to my voice," Spy bade.
Engineer did as he was asked, trying to calm down and let himself relax, to follow Spy's words rather than try and puzzle it all out.
Spy joined him, closing his glowing eyes and letting himself feel the magic around him. Jotun magic felt strange, tied to his internality far more than his physical being, but the ambient energy that fueled it was still the same. He gently dragged his hand through the air, fingers crooked to gather as he focused his will into his palm, strands of magic catching and congealing, a soft blue glow beginning to bloom there. "Around you there is air, and within that air many energies exist. Radiation, radio waves, and more. Among them, there is magic. Aether. The stuff of spells. While the others require materials to manipulate, magic does not. Not as you are now, a creature touched by it. Like calls to like, and if you let yourself feel it, it is there."
"But how do I let myself?" Engineer asked, the frustration gone, leaving him with genuine confusion.
"Let me show you what to look for," Spy hummed, eyes sliding open. He took hold of Engineer's paw and guided it to the soft light in his hand, touching them together.
Engineer's fur fluffed up immediately at the sensation, bright and livid and indescribably potent. His eyes snapped open and he saw the glow beneath his paw. "That's—"
"A bit of concentrated arcane energy," Spy explained, "ready to be shaped into a spell. To shapeshift, you don't need so much. Nor do you need to concentrate it like this. Instead, you must merely feel what is around you, and let it in."
Pulling his paw away, Engineer hesitated a moment, searching, his fur still on end and making him look even rounder than he already did. Then, it all settled as he felt it. There. Passing him like wind currents, like ripples in a pond around him. He sniffed, and closed his eyes again, feeling for it, reaching out with his thoughts, with his will, as Spy had instructed, and thought of bringing it into himself, absorbing it like a sponge.
Spy smiled, watching soft motes of light filter from his hand into the fox before him. "Now imagine the man you know yourself to be, and make him your intent. Slide into it, like trying on a new shirt," he chuckled.
It sounded ridiculous, but who was he to question it? Engineer pictured himself, his real self. A man of peachy skin, blond hair that was growing darker as he aged and receding quickly, and a prominent, round jaw. A stocky fellow with a broad, hairy body bearing a bit of pudge and a lot of muscle. The scar down his back. He pictured his prosthetics, wonders of machinery, now part of his body as much as the meat. He concentrated on that image, that concept of himself, and decided that it was what was going to happen.
The shift was slower than when Spy did it, but still startlingly fast. Vertigo hit him as he grew and changed in a bare moment, his vulpine form exchanged for something primate as he went from a seated fox to a seated man in the bed of the truck, all peachy skin and blond hair and a bit of pudge and a lot of muscle. He swayed in its aftermath, his eyes snapping open and not quite focusing as he looked down at himself and saw the man he used to be. Something felt strange, though. He looked behind himself to see three tails still extending from his backside, lashing a bit in his surprise.
"Those are always difficult to hide," Spy sighed with a smile. "You're going to need to pay attention to holding this shape, or you will go back to being a fox and have to do it again. It's a muscle that needs training, and eventually it becomes second nature."
"Well hopefully I ain't gonna need to keep it flexin' too much longer," Engineer said, turning back to Spy. He could feel the tension of maintaining this shape like a pressure at the back of his mind, like having to remember something for later while focusing on something different. Like he was repeating the idea of himself to himself over and over. Even so, a smile crossed his face, relief evident amid the consternation. "Thanks, pardner."
"Think nothing of it," Spy said with a wave of his hand. "Though perhaps we should have thought to bring some clothing for you."
Engineer looked down at his naked body and hummed in thought. "Yeah, probably, huh? Welp." As if there were nothing for it, he let go of his shape, transforming back to a fox in the blink of an eye. "May as well hold off for now, then. Now that I kinda got an idea o' what I'm doin'."
Scout finally spoke up, "Hey, Eng—"
"Land's sake." Engineer rolled his eyes exaggeratedly. "Yes, Scout, you can pet me now."
With a grin the garuda scooped him into his arms gleefully.
*
As the truck pulled up to the curb outside Merasmus' castle, everything seemed wrong. The front door was broken open, and tire tracks dug into the front lawn. The mercenaries piled out hesitantly, arming themselves as they slowly crept inside on high alert.
"Shit, looks like someone else with beef got 'ere first," Scout mumbled, looking around as they passed through the foyer, where furniture was smashed and the umbrella stand full of magical staves and a few actual umbrellas had been thrown asunder.
"Merasmus ain't exactly the most beloved bloke," Sniper grunted, squinting at the dark corners of the castle as the light outside approached dusk, casting grey light over the land and shadows from many angles within the stone edifice itself. He felt jumpy, itchy and tense as they walked through the overturned home, and he was having trouble telling if it was because of how uncanny it all was, or because he was pretty sure he was in rut, based on how much he hoped they'd find someone to fight on the way.
"He owes everyone money," Soldier added with a harrumph, leading the way. "Maybe we got lucky and they killed him."
"That would not be lucky," Spy groused, bringing up the rear. "We need him to find out how to get rid of this curse."
As they crept further into the castle, signs of struggle grew clearer and clearer. From the tossed furniture to the scorch marks, a fight had clearly broken out, or at least a last gasp attempt at escape from the wizard. The way rugs were bunched up on the floor made it clear he'd been dragged out the door.
"Okay, but what if they did kill 'im?" Scout asked, wings folded up against himself nervously.
"Then we will simply have to fix that!" Medic hooted, a giddy grin crossing his face. "Now come, perhaps we can find some clues in his study."
As the team entered the study—its extradimensional space seemingly massive on the inside, far too large for where it sat in the already spacious castle—sounds of wonder left those who hadn't yet seen it. As usual, the presence of visitors lit the space with green flames, sconces flaring to life as the team passed them, creating an eerie feeling of being watched. Almost immediately, deep guttural groans met their ears from somewhere within; panicked sounds of urgency, wordless and inhuman.
Demoman's neck twisted in the direction of the sound, his body going stiff. "I ken that sound! Monoculus! Me eye!"
"That guy is a jerk," Soldier grunted. "He would not say he was sorry for attacking us last Halloween!"
Demoman charged in the direction of the sound, the rest of the team quickly hustling to catch up with the determined dullahan. Rounding bookshelves and skirting tables bearing mystical baubles and brews, eventually they came upon the beast itself. Monoculus floated around erratically, groaning with what sounded like worry as it circled and criss-crossed the altar upon which sat the Bombinomicon, which was busy yelling at it.
"Will you chill out? We don't gotta deal with that jerk no more! It's good stuff, buddy! We got the castle to ourselves! We're homeowners, man!"
Monoculus roared.
"Property taxes? Pssh, that's people stuff. Good luck taxin' a magic book!"
Monoculus growled.
"And a haunted floating eye," Bombinomicon conceded with annoyance.
Soldier charged ahead of the team and pointed his shovel at the book. "Bombobibbybomb! Where is Merasmus!"
"Soldier? The heck are you doin' here? You look different. Oh hey, I heard what you did to Merasmus' crapper, buddy. Good stuff!"
"Hell yeah," Scout agreed, high-fiving Soldier.
Demoman groaned, leveling Eyelander at Bombinomicon. "Listen, ye petulant pamphlet! We need tae find Merasmus, and we need him bloody yesterday! Where's he gone?!"
Bombinomicon squinted for a long moment. "Waaaait, you're that dumb kid whose eye I haunted! Went and lost your whole head now, eh buddy? Good stuff, definite improvement over that ugly mug of yours!" the book teased, its bomb-filled mouth twisting up in a grin.
Before Demoman could say a word, Sniper was there leaning on the altar, his lighter in hand and a look of pure malevolence in his eyes. "You might wanna put a little more respect on the way you talk to 'im, mate." He flicked the lighter on, holding it near the Bombinomicon's cover. "Answer the bloody question."
Bombinomicon stared at Sniper, trying to gauge how serious he was until it felt heat against its cover as the lighter strayed closer. "Okay, okay! Jeez! You guys are assholes, you know that? Can't take a joke!" It harrumphed. "Merasmus got dragged outta here by some guys in suits! Mafia types, all 'Dobryy den' and 'Gde den'gi?' and 'Yesli rasskazhesh' komu-nibud', chto videl nas, my ub'yem volshebnika' and stuff."
Heavy perked up. "That is Russian."
"Then maybe you know what the hell they said, 'cause I sure don't," Bombinomicon responded dismissively. "Givin' me the ol' point at their eyes, then at mine, like that means anything to me. Man, I'm a haunted book!"
"Did they say anything else?" Heavy asked.
"Buncha stuff that was probably just ordering each other around. They only said one thing I understood, which was Farmington."
"Farmington?"
"Yeah, dom v Farmington. Said it once or twice."
"House in Farmington," Heavy said. "Probably safehouse. When did this happen, magic book?"
"They left maybe ten minutes ago? You might've passed 'em on the road, buddy."
Heavy huffed out a long breath through his nose. "Let us go. We must catch these men before they disappear into town."
Sniper snapped his lighter shut and grinned at Bombinomicon. "See how easy it is when you're helpful, mate?"
"You're lucky I don't haunt your eye, Mundy," the book snorted, grumbling as the faun laughed and followed team as they filed out of the study.
On the way out the door, Medic plucked Merasmus' crook from among the staves littering the foyer floor and inspected it. With a flourish of one hand and a clockwise motion, he traced a magic circle in the air and forced a spell through it. "Ah, yes, this will do nicely."
"Good to see you've still got it, even without the magic in your veins," Spy hummed. "What's that you've cast?"
"Well, you see," Medic began, walking out the door. He lifted the crook into the air, tracing another circle and punching it into the staff with a bellow of, "Ducem Sequere!" A beam of blue light shot from the crook's curve, streaking in a steady beam into the distance. "Tracking spells have been part of my medigun research as of late," he said, grinning victoriously as he pointed Merasmus' staff toward their destination. "We simply follow the light, and we'll find the crook's master!"
"My doktor is so clever," Heavy said, half-bragging and half-enamoured.
"Danke, Schatz," Medic cooed. "Now somebody grab the duct tape from the truck so we can strap this thing to the hood."
*
Only one road ran from Merasmus' castle to Farmington—the closest city to the Badlands—and Engineer's truck sped down it as fast as its tires could catch the gravel surface, Medic behind the wheel. The grey light of dusk was finally giving way to deep blues as the sun boiled away over the horizon, almost gone from view. Still very visible however was the blue light emitting from Merasmus' crook, duct-taped to the hood of the truck and directing the doctor's attention. Beside him sat Pyro and Heavy, who was sliding open the back window to allow communication with the team.
Red lights shone in the distance, tail lights attached to a sleek black sedan so unassuming that it seemed to disappear into the gloom around corners and in the shadow of bluffs and trees. The blue light from the crook pointed directly to its trunk, and Medic's foot fell heavier to the gas pedal at the sight. The doctor laughed, a manic grin crossing his face as the truck shuddered a little between gears and took off like a shot, pelting down the desert road with growing, gaining speed.
"We have visual!" Heavy hollered through the window over the whipping winds. "Black car! Light points at trunk!"
"I can stop a car, nae danger," Demoman chuckled, snapping shut the chamber of his grenade launcher.
"We need the wizard inside it intact," Spy reminded him, laying a massive hand on the weapon and pushing it down. "We cannot just blow up the car."
Hearing this, Soldier lowered his rocket launcher with a frown.
Pyro poked his face through the open window, fingers curling around its lower edge. "So what should we do?"
"I've got an idea or two," Sniper growled, stepping up to the back of the cab and lifting his rifle. He set his stance and leaned over the roof, using it try and stabilize himself on the bumpy country road. Lowering his eye to the scope, he caught a glimpse through the car's rear window of four large men, Merasmus unseen. That confirmed he was in the trunk, at least.
"Uh, Sniper?" Pyro ventured.
"One sec, mate, I think I've got a shot lined up."
"Oh, okay. For a second I thought you just really aggressively wanted a blowjob."
"What?" Sniper looked down from where he stood before the open window, before Pyro, who was eye-level to his dick standing half-hard from his woolly fur. "Oh. Er. Sorry, mate. Basically can't control the bloody thing right now." He swallowed hard and felt his cock twitch. "But, I mean, if you wanna..."
"Pyro do not give Sniper a blowjob while he's trying to shoot people!" Spy snapped.
"Wait, we ain't supposed to do that?" Scout asked.
Spy sighed. "Don't think I'm unaware of what you get up to during work hours."
Scout grinned impishly.
"Can you make the shot or not, Stretch?" Engineer barked.
"Nah yeah, no worries," he grunted. As he squeezed the trigger the truck swerved around a corner, making his shot ping off of the car's body and nearly dumping Sniper over the side of the cab. Pyro's arm shot out to grab his shirt, giving him enough purchase to right himself. "Crikey! Doc, you tryin' to catch them or lose us?!"
"Let me show you," Medic chuckled, his voice growing dark, sinister in his giddy glee. He hunched over the wheel, gripping it tightly as he pushed the pedal to the floor.
It was all so exciting, signs and plants whipping by as the wind howled in the encroaching night, the barest sliver of moon shining silver in the darkening sky. He giggled, feeling utterly electric, potent, alive and blazing bright as the truck screamed down the gravel road, gaining on the sedan with alarming alacrity. "Get them!" he crowed, sparing a hand to bang on the ceiling of the cab. "Go!"
The team in the bed crouched and clung for dear life as the wind sliced across them, buffeting them and roaring in their ears. The truck's overburdened engine growled, the crackle of gravel beneath them adding to the cacophony which was quickly joined by the sedan's nervous whine. They were close enough to hear it, and the mercenaries began their assault.
"Fine, I'll nae blow it up," Demoman chuckled, leaning over the side. He popped two pipes ahead and to the driver's side, the grenades bouncing twice before detonating, the blast sending the smaller vehicle jerking to the side amid the sounds of yelling and panic from within. Windows rolled down as fire was returned in the form of stray pistol shots, Heavy ducking down in the cab as shots cracked into the glass of the windshield.
"Engie's windows are bullet resistant, but it won't hold up forever," Pyro said as he turned to a concerned Heavy.
"Then we must stop them soon," Heavy harrumphed, pulling his shotgun from under the seat and leaning out the window to wait for an opening.
"Docteur! We must get closer!" Spy hollered over the din, pounding the window. Drawing his revolver he knelt, aiming over the cab at the vehicle ahead. He fired a shot into the window, shattering its glass, and ducked as fire returned. His bedsheet toga tugged free of where he had it tied at his shoulder, flapping in the wind and held on by his belt.
Sniper's head snapped immediately to the side to look at his bare chest.
"Get down, you big dumb slut!" Soldier hollered, grabbing the faun around the waist and pulling him backward, halfway suplexing him into the bed. From beneath Sniper, he groused, "Don't get distracted, private! They're firing blind and our medic is driving, not back here with us!" He grunted and shoved the faun off of himself.
"Right," Sniper muttered, scratching at the back of his head.
"Don't worry about it, Snipes," Scout chuckled, clapping Sniper on the shoulder. "I get distracted by Spy's tits all the time!"
"My tits?!"
"Heads up!" Demoman hollered, popping off another pair of pipes and making the mafiosos swerve to avoid them.
"Heh, heads."
"SCOUT CAN YE FOCUS?!"
"Just watch me!" Scout drew his pistol, leaning over the side and taking aim.
"Doc, can't you go any faster?!" Engineer asked, perching his paws on the rear window.
Medic cackled giddily, swerving into the oncoming lane. "The pedal is to the metal!"
"Then we gotta slow these assholes down!" Scout yelled. He took aim for the rear wheel and emptied his magazine. The low light made precision difficult, and there was no way to see if he'd actually hit anything, so he went for volume. Taking cover, he dropped his mag and slapped another in, chambering the first round with a grin. "That oughtta do it!"
Sniper climbed to his hooves unsteadily, bailing into Scout as he tried to find his footing. "Fuckin' shitcunt!"
"Hey, hey, watch it! I know it's your first day on new feet an' all, but still!"
"Spent most o' his day with those hooves in the air, nae learnin' tae use 'em," Demoman snorted.
Scout regarded Sniper with pride and high-fived him. "My man!"
"Car is slowing down!" Heavy called from the front.
In front of them, the car's rear tire had fully flattened, and sparks shot up from the gravel road as the wheel's bare rim skidded along, making the lopsided vehicle swerve, losing control. Cursing in Russian could be heard from within as the car lurched to the side, its rear colliding with the nose of the truck.
Medic giggled maniacally, jerking the wheel to the side and into the car, shoving its injured back side toward the shoulder and forcing it to spin out, only for the other driver to flash the doctor a sneer and jerk the handbrake, snapping the back end fully around so that he came to face the opposite direction at a dead stop, beside the now-stopped truck. Before the mercenaries could capitalize, the sedan took off, tires squealing and rim grinding as it roared to life and sped away from its pursuers.
"Everybody, hold on!" Medic screamed with glee, downshifting and throwing on the emergency break, then cutting the wheel to the side. He jammed on the gas and the truck screamed to life, its rear tires screeching as they dragged the machine's back end around in an arc, the front wheels locked stiff. Gravel sprayed and mercenaries screamed in back, Heavy and Pyro clinging to the dash and each other beside him as centrifugal force sent everyone careening hard to one side. Medic jerked the wheel in the opposite direction, fishtailing as the truck righted itself and he disengaged the break, the engine roaring as he shifted up and slammed on the gas, the machine to jumping off the line to give chase.
Engineer popped up at the rear window again, his goggles hanging halfway off his little vulpine head. "How in the hell do you know how to PIT a car 'n do donuts, Doc?"
"What, you've never been in a high speed police chase before?" Medic asked, looking over his shoulder with a manic grin. "It's just a good thing your truck is rear-wheel drive!"
Engineer looked with wide eyes to Heavy, who merely met his nervous gaze with equal anxiety.
"All of those gains, lost," Spy harrumphed. "We need to slow them more!"
"On it, mate. 'old me legs!" Sniper hollered, leaning over the side of the truck with his rifle in hand.
Spy grabbed on, his overlarge hands going for the crooks of his knees and enveloping his entire calves as they wrapped around him. Thus secured, Sniper leaned further, throwing most of his weight over the edge of the truck to hang in the air and give himself the room to shoulder his rifle and line up his shot cleanly. A blue dot tracked onto the remaining rear tire of the sedan a bare moment before the crack of the rifle filled the darkening sky and a 7.62mm hole punched into rubber, exiting out far larger through the metal of the rim. Sniper laughed as he watched the tire visibly hemorrhage air, "Got it!"
Unfortunately what he didn't see was a man in a suit leaning out of the rear passenger-side window with his pistol in hand until shots whizzed past him, a bullet catching him in the meat of his upper arm. Sniper cried out, dropping his rifle once Spy hauled him back into the bed so that he could put pressure on the wound. "Cunt got me!"
"Mickey!" Demoman hollered, turning as he reloaded. "Are ye alright?"
"Just me arm. I'll survive, love," Sniper assured him.
"Ye better," Demoman replied, worry in his voice. He turned and looked over the cab, doing some mental math. Ducking another spray of pistol shots, he readied the launcher and brought it to bear, standing up and arcing two pipes over the car to explode in front of it, forcing them to brake as the tire finished flattening and the second rim hit gravel, sparking and dragging them down.
The slowdown had the truck gaining on them, and now three mobsters—all but the driver—turning and leaning out the windows to hammer the truck with gunfire, desperate to suppress further ordinance. Merasmus' crook still taped to the hood pointed its blue light almost accusingly at the sedan's trunk.
"They gotta run outta ammo soon," Engineer huffed, peeking over to watch one of the men duck in to reload then resume fire.
"They will probably carry at least two spare magazines," Heavy said knowingly, raising his shotgun and leaning out the window. He fired off two shells, spraying the vehicle ahead with buckshot and forcing the man leaning out the rear driver's side window to duck, catching his shoulder anyway and drawing a scream that made the giant smile with satisfaction. "Need to get closer to kill tiny men."
"Before we had the element of surprise to get us closer. Now they're aware of what a threat we are to them," Medic replied, upshifting a final time and flooring it.
"Alright, we need somethin' to stop these sumbitches in their tracks!" Engineer called to the men in back.
"I have an idea!" Soldier announced, grabbing Scout's arm. "Can you get me up to them?"
"I... dunno." Scout banged on the back window. "Hey Doc, can I?"
"You can carry what you can carry on foot, no more!" Medic barked. "But you don't have the aid of your legs so it's mostly arm, torso, and wing strength!"
"This is why I tell tiny Scout to do more for arms than bicep curls. Is not functional strength," Heavy chastised, then leaned out to fire another suppressing shot.
"Yeah yeah," Scout grumbled.
Pyro turned, poking his head out the window as he knelt up on the bench seat. "Soldier, just lose your shape. You have more mass the more solid you are. If you spread out, you'll be way lighter."
"Y'know I been meanin' to ask you about the physics o' that..." Engineer hummed thoughtfully.
"How am I supposed to do that?" Soldier asked, looking down at his perfectly formed hands, at his completely solid and detailed body. "I'm in battle! This is where I thrive! This is where I'm alive!"
"Scout, try getting him horny!" Pyro said, thinking quickly.
"This does not work," Heavy said. "Sex make him focus too."
Pyro looked between Heavy and Soldier in disbelief. "For real? No fair!"
"Considerin' he ain't solid basically any other time, it says a lot 'bout 'is priorities," Scout chuckled. "Come on, Sol. I can lift you if you're all loose, but you're too much of a big ol' side a' beef otherwise."
With a grumble, Soldier took his helmet off and set down his shotgun, closing his eyes. He tried to forget the gunfire all around, the roar of the engines, the whipping of the wind. He tried to ignore the beautiful men he was surrounded by. He tried to quell the thrill in his heart of being in combat alongside his beloved team. He felt the constant movement of his body, of what could generously be called skin. How it chafed under his jacket, inside his trousers. He listened for the phantom music and the screams and the laughter and the other layers of reality hitting his senses as he stopped paying attention to the plane he was on. He opened his eyes and saw afterimages of creatures that didn't exist in the material world, saw sparkling lights and dancing shapes, saw the soft magical glows around Scout, Sniper, Spy, and Engineer, and looked down at himself and saw an orgy of colour roiling within his burning, spreading flames. His hands were like mittens, and soon barely scoops, and he could feel himself going wider, longer, creeping out of his clothes and across the surfaces of the truck bed and onto his coworkers bit by bit.
"That's it! Try to get on Scout!" Pyro urged.
Soldier turned groggily to see Scout, whose taloned feet were already engulfed in his flames. He hated the way he felt; it was too much, it was so much. He just wanted to fight, but he had to endure this assault on every sense and every thought to do it, and it was all that could motivate him. He wanted to be in Scout's arms, soothed and wanted. He crept slowly up Scout's body, immolating him gradually until all of his flames enshrouded the garuda, fire licking up his skin, over his wings, making him look like some sort of phoenix in Soldier's mind. His clothes collapsed into a heap in the truck bed.
"Good job, babe," Scout whispered with a smile. "Still remember your plan?"
"Affirmative."
"Alright, let's go." Scout pulled out his scattergun and hopped up onto the cab, the wind buffeting him almost hard enough to knock him back off. "Cover me, guys!" he yelled, and leapt into the air, flapping his wings as he caught the magic to force him upward into the sky, the truck sailing out from under him as he climbed straight up.
The team did as instructed, firing wildly at the car in front; part distraction, half suppression as the mobsters ducked inside to avoid being perforated or exploded under the assault. None inside could see nor care about the looming threat climbing in the sky high above.
Higher, higher, Scout and Soldier climbed, flames licking every feather and making Scout feel warm and at peace in the gathering gloom of night, the cool autumn air swirling around them as they rose above the desert floor. "They're getting away," Soldier said sullenly, sounding distracted and muzzy in his overstimulated state.
"Don't worry, Jane. I got this," Scout replied with a grin. He looped backward and into a dive, tilting his wings down and spreading them wide to cut through the air as they soared toward the car chase with rapidly building speed.
Soldier could see the colours of magic around them, building up and glistening among Scout's feathers as they hurtled through the sky, diving toward the sedan faster and faster, until he could see trails of light behind them. They weren't just diving, they were being pushed, the wind whipping past them as they streaked through the cold air at breakneck speeds.
Scout's nictitating membranes closed over his eyes as he focused on his target and the force he needed to get there. The magic could help lift, so of course it could help push, and he put all of his thoughts into it as he tucked his wings back a little further and they shot through the sky, losing altitude faster to push more speed.
Engineer watched in wonder as the burning birdman passed overhead like a shooting star.
"Overtop 'em," Scout announced as they reached the sedan and he spread his wings to flap and keep pace.
"Get lower."
Scout did as he was told, diving down until he was maybe a few yards from the roof of the car. "What's your plan?"
"This," Soldier chuckled, flames beginning to coalesce and he stopped forcing himself to pay attention to his stupid fiery body and let himself enjoy the thrill of the fight. Here he was in the sky, no rocket jump, no parachute, just his boyfriend and his beautiful wings as he prepared to make these mobsters' short lives a living hell. The only thing that could make it better would be if he had his rocket launcher in hand. Gunshots rang out as the team and the mobsters fired at one another, screams and curses in English and Russian filling the air, making Soldier feel truly at home. He laughed, the shape of a man emerging from the fire receding off of Scout, those flames burning paler and paler, blues and whites dancing down into solid form, and soon Soldier was heavy enough to slip free of the garuda. He dropped onto the car's hood, naked and landing on all fours with a thump and the groan of the hood bowing and buckling under his weight. He looked into the eyes of the driver, white flames overtaking his body as he burned brighter and hotter with sheer murderous glee.
The driver screamed. Turning to see, the passengers screamed.
Rising up to his full height, Soldier widened his stance and looked at the terrified men inside of the car, and back to his team rapidly gaining on them, and boomed out a laugh, then lurched forward and grabbed the car, wrapping his fingers around the edges of the windows and pressing his flaming body to the windshield, obscuring any and all vision. He burned brighter and brighter, shining like a beacon as he shed light into the encroaching darkness, and into the eyes of the mafiosos in the car.
"Oh shit he figured out how to light up!" Pyro gasped from the truck, clapping his hands in excitement as screams erupted from the car and it began swerving as the men inside scrambled to cover their eyes, eyelids soon growing too weak to blot out the searing light coming from Soldier.
"Now!" Heavy bellowed as the truck pulled into the oncoming lane and came up alongside the swerving sedan. He racked his shotgun and pumped two shots into the driver, painting the inside of the vehicle with the contents of his head.
A hail of bullets rained into the car. Pyro hopped into Heavy's lap to unload his own shotgun out the window and into the front seat, with Spy firing his revolver with too-large fingers and Sniper's SMG peppering the back, ventilating the remaining mobsters with bloody glee. Even Engineer took human shape—naked and all—to grab the pistol he kept stashed under the edge of the bed's side wall and unload a magazine into the car.
Soldier's light went dim, his flames still blazing white as he cackled, the car spinning out of control as the remains of its driver's body went limp. He gripped the vehicle as tightly as he could and held on for dear life as the sedan swerved off of the road and into the desert dust.
Medic finally let off the gas, downshifting as both vehicles rolled to a crawl. He followed the car off-road until it came to a stop, and threw the truck into park, shutting it off with a satisfied sigh. "Shame I didn't get to kill anybody," he said wistfully, smiling as Heavy reached over and gave him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder.
The mercenaries piled out of the truck as Scout swooped down and landed atop the car. Engineer returned to vulpine shape, and Soldier peeled himself off of the hood, gladly accepting his helmet as Demoman handed it to him, popping it atop his head with a grin.
As the team rounded on the trunk, Scout hopped off the roof and reached into the driver's side window, bonking his wings against the top. With a bit of wriggling, he finagled his way in far enough to reach the ignition and yank out the keys. He pulled out and tossed them to Heavy.
With a jingle and a click, the giant unlocked the trunk and opened it, his expression souring in annoyance as the screaming began.
Curled up in the sedan's trunk lay the squirming wizard, his wrists and ankles each bound together, a blindfold tied around his eyes, and a strip of duct tape stuck across his mouth. It didn't stop him from thrashing about as best he could and screaming through it as he heard the trunk lid squeak open.
Heavy cast a look to Medic as if to ask if he had to deal with this, only for the doctor to reply with a placid grin. He sighed and rolled his eyes, shoulder slumping as he reached down and ripped the tape off of Merasmus' mouth. The screaming only got louder and more coherent.
"Please, don't kill me! I can get you the money! I promise! Merasmus just needs a little more time! I give you my wizard's word!" He panted, casting his face about as if trying to see around his blindfold and failing, wriggling all the harder.
A wave of snickers washed through the assembled mercenaries.
"Shut up," Heavy barked in annoyance, yanking the blindfold off.
Merasmus blinked and squinted in the growing dark, his slit pupils wide. He sagged. "Oh. You."
Soldier pushed in beside Heavy and grabbed the unimpressed sorcerer by his robes, hefting him up to sit. "You listen here, Merasmus! You are going to tell us how to break this curse, or I am gonna cram my foot so far up your ass I'll have to open your mouth to clip my toenails!"
Merasmus' eyes went wide, then trailed downward as he realized the white-hot djinni in front of him wasn't wearing his uniform. "Oh, GODS!" he yelped upon catching sight of Soldier's fiery genitals, jerking his head to the side and shutting his eyes. "Why are you naked?!"
"Because somebody turned me into an amorphous man made of FIRE, remember?!" Soldier barked, shaking him. "Now fix it or seeing my dick will be the least upsetting thing to happen to you today!"
"Pretty sure seein' your dick prolly don't rank above gettin' tied up an' thrown in some gangsters' trunk," Scout pointed out. "Especially what with the car chase an' all."
"Wait, that's right, they—" Merasmus' posture straightened as he realized what the mercenaries confronting him probably meant for his captors. "You've killed them, haven't you?"
"Yes," Heavy confirmed. "So now you will lift curse."
"I can't do that."
The giant pointed toward the front of the car. "Do you want to see what we do to these men? What we can do?"
Merasmus backpedaled as best he could inside of the trunk, arching away from Heavy in fear. "Wait! No! I mean—I mean I can't! I really can't! Once a curse is set it has to be fulfilled in order to end; it's terms are its power!"
"And what are the bloody terms, ye daft wizard?" Demoman asked.
"Didn't you listen to a word I said?" Merasmus sighed, shaking his head. "Of course you didn't. It's laid out clearly! All Hallow's Eve and Day of Dead, while at last the veil grows thin! The curse lasts for today and tomorrow, then ends! Is that really what you came all the way out here to ask me?"
"It cannae be that simple."
"It is! It's clearly outlined in the terms of the curse!"
His face souring, Spy leveled a disbelieving glare at Merasmus. "Who levels a two-day curse as revenge after all of that sound and fury? It makes no sense."
"Look! I was angry! But you all decided to come to his defense! I needed to do something to assert myself!"
"And you couldn't think of worse?"
"Well, I..." Merasmus sighed. "I couldn't exactly do something too severe to the whole team. I... make a lot of money off of Mundy and Dr. Ludwig, so."
"You're about to make a whole bloody lot less," Sniper harrumphed.
"I don't see why you're angry, Mundy. It's not like much changed for you and how you behave," Merasmus cracked, unable to help himself.
"Give here," Sniper hissed, grabbing the wizard from Soldier's grasp. He reared back and headbutted the man, his horns—which now curled back and around in a full C-shape by his ears—colliding with Merasmus' skull with a sickening crack.
Merasmus cried out in pain, crumpling in Sniper's grasp as Demoman rushed to pull his partner away, soothing him with a gentle repetition of, "Steady on, steady on."
"Tiny wizard," Heavy grunted, leaning over Merasmus as he curled up in the trunk, a trickle of blood running down his forehead where the impact had split his skin. "You can do something about curse."
"It's over tomorrow ni—"
"You think that because we kill mafia, that tonight you cannot be murdered by angry Russian man." Heavy cracked his knuckles. "You are wrong."
Tensing, Merasmus jawed at the air for a moment. "Look, maybe there's something Merasmus can do for you," he replied, smiling in terror. "I mean, I can't end the curse, per se, but I do have the power to... alter its terms."
"Alter its terms?" Medic asked.
"As long as it doesn't make the curse more powerful, or immediately end it," Merasmus clarified with an anxious little laugh. "I could... shorten it, maybe?"
"That would be an excellent trade," Medic replied with a grin. "After all, I do believe we did just saved your life. I doubt those mafiosos were looking to take you out to dinner."
"I... would need my hands freed," Merasmus added, a little nervous to ask.
Spy handed Heavy his knife, and the giant sighed and grasped the wizard by his wrists, looping the blade under the rope holding them bound. "If you try to cause trouble or run away I will break your fingers slowly, bone by bone, then rip them off, then feed them to you."
Once Heavy let go of him and his hands were freed, Merasmus rubbed at his wrists, trying to work blood back into his half-numb hands, feeling pins and needles rise within them. "Of course," he said, regarding Heavy with no small amount of worry. He took a deep breath, thinking for a moment as he gathered the ambient magic to hand. He reached out, pulling at the magic ensorcelling the mercenaries, the curse he had laid, and fed its energies into the spell he wove, bleeding it away to fuel its own alterations. "Men of violence, men of love, men whose pushes come to shove! Whose deeds once punished now redeemed, through circumstances hence undreamed! And as reward for wizard saved, one day of torment shall be waived! Thus when the land sees morning's light, you'll find that all's been set to right! 𒆕𒈨!!!" He spread his hands wide, the green energies gathering in his palms spreading with them before collapsing into a single glowing orb between, then with a crack, nine fingers of light streaked from its locus, striking each mercenary in his forehead with considerably less force than the previous iteration of the curse. It coursed through them like lightning, from head to foot and feeling like it left into the earth, leaving hairs and feathers standing on end for a moment in its wake.
As the spell spent out, Merasmus crossed his arms petulantly over his chest. "There, are you happy?"
"We will see when sun rises," Heavy harrumphed, turning to the rest of the team. "Come, we go."
Slowly, the mercenaries peeled off, sparing annoyed glares at the wizard as they all loaded back into the truck.
"Wait, you're just going to leave me here?!" Merasmus called after them, clambering out of the trunk only fall to his face in the dust, his ankles still bound.
"Oh yes! Here!" Medic called as he rounded the hood. He yanked Merasmus' crook off from where it had been duct taped, and hefted it to the wizard, the thing clattering to the ground beside him. "I hope you don't mind us borrowing it," he giggled, and hopped into the driver's seat.
Before Merasmus could brook further argument, the truck roared to life and peeled out, spraying him with a shower of gravel and dirt as its tires spun out in the desert dust before finding friction enough to speed off.
While Pyro and Engie are in town, Pyro gets himself a bit of pampering at the local salon while Spy and Medic try asking up the chain of command for guidance. Heavy, Soldier, and Scout are on decoration duty, while Demoman's just trying to survive Sniper's libido. Complications arise, but thankfully can be sorted in the Usual BLU Fashion.
Ao3 Link!
Part of Monstrous Intent!
Warnings: This chapter goes a little into Demo's drinking problem and his recovery. Shouldn't be any big warnings for the actual smut though other than the disclaimer down below being relevant.
(Within Monstrous Intent BLU Spy and BLU Scout are not related in any way. They are in fact different species.)
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Teufort was the closest town to the majority of central Gravel War battlefields for miles. Teufort was also a place where the groundwater was contaminated with lead, the library held regular book burnings, and there was an officially designated Pedophile Sanctuary (actually just the local shoe store, as most people in town did not know what either of those words meant).
While Pyro did like the big bonfire that was usually in the middle of town (it wasn't like Teufort had many particularly useful books in its library, mostly just aspic-themed cookbooks), he followed team tradition and passed by the dysfunctional burg for the next town down the road on his mission to buy food and hooch. None of them trusted the alcohol in Teufort anymore after the one time Demoman found a caterpillar at the bottom of his whiskey and checked the label to find it read, "Irish Mezcal".
When they arrived in town, Pyro went over his to-do list. "Alright, so we need booze, snacks, as much meat as we can fit into the coolers, ice..."
"Not too long a list for once," Engineer mused.
"Yeah, but we're still gonna be in town for a while," Pyro said with mischief in his voice.
"And why's that?"
"'Cause I haven't been able to walk among humans undisturbed since people started worshiping Yahweh as a monotheistic god," Pyro replied as he pulled into a parking space out front of a salon and spa. He shut the truck off and turned to the fox sitting beside him. "I don't like being a human. Everything's muted and I'm understimulated and kind of going a little crazy about it. I can't see other layers of reality and I can't feel magic. I can't even do magic unless I learn how to do the kind of spellcasting Medic knows. It's not me. But damn it, I'm going to enjoy this part of it while I can have it."
Engineer barked out a laugh at that, looking up at his lover's face cast in human skin, still beautiful, even as different as he was. He could see the fire in his eyes—only metaphorical, now—and knew this was something he needed. Literal millennia of isolation, and here they were at a spa. How could he say no to something so humble, against something so immense?
Plus, it wasn't like there was much to do on base but party prep and wringing their hands as they waited for the magical brain trust to sort out this curse business.
"That why you're wearin' your Sunday best?"
Engineer regarded his lover warmly, looking him over. He was wearing a pair of teal bell-bottoms and a salmon-coloured tunic shirt with billowy sleeves, a white belt cinching it at his thick waist. He thought it a little brisk for something so loose—the djinni's previously nonexistent chest hair peeking over the garment's v-neck—but he couldn't deny that Pyro wore it well, especially with the bangle bracelets hanging from his wrists.
"If I'm gonna let people see me, I may as well look cute about it, right?"
"I could be wearing a potato sack and you'd say that."
"Damn right I would."
Pyro couldn't help but smile, reaching down to ruffle through the fur at the back of Engineer's neck.
"So you gonna help me into this purse you brought, or do I gotta figure it out on my own?"
Pyro beamed.
*
Medic flopped back in his desk chair, plucking his glasses from his nose to place on the desk so that he could scrub at his face in frustration. He and Spy had been pouring over every detail of the limited collection he'd been able to bring to the undersized base all morning. Two pots of coffee and even tagging out with Demoman for a bit to let the bomber come at the problem with a fresher eye had borne nothing but a reinforcement of the basics of magic and a particularly enthusiastic blowjob from Sniper as a result. As far as the solution to their curse, however, they had come up woefully short.
"We're getting nowhere," Spy grumbled, closing the book he'd been working through and dropping it on the desk. He adjusted the bedsheet that he was wearing—now tied and belted into a vague toga-like affair—and rubbed at the bridge of his nose, frustration beginning to get the better of him. "This is utterly ridiculous."
Medic nodded, a sound of agreement humming out of him. "We need expertise in these matters. Nobody on base specializes in curses, and my usual resource for such questions is the man who cursed us in the first place!" Picking up his cup for a sip, Medic frowned upon realizing he'd already finished the coffee in it. "We're out of resources. Are we simply going to have to just live like this?!"
Spy recoiled at the thought, looking down at his too-large hands with their too-long fingers. "Absolutely not," he spat. He refused to have the body he had chosen taken away from him.
With a sigh, Medic put his glasses back on and leaned atop the desk, folding his arms over and planting his chin atop them. "Then we need ideas."
Spy planted his feet, leaning his elbows atop his knees and slouching forward in thought. Medic held back a giggle at how ridiculous the extremely tall, still very narrow man looked in the position, like some gangly insect. "If we can't go to the morally-suspect man who taught you your first spells, we'll simply need to go up the chain," he concluded after a moment.
"Meaning...?"
"We must go to the morally-suspect woman who taught you your next spells."
Medic sat up, grinning ear-to-ear. "Miss Pauling! Of course! Why didn't I think of that?!"
"Why didn't you?" Spy asked, half-earnest. He rose from his seat, careful not to bonk his head on one of the rafters above. "I'll retrieve my Sending Mirror. Hopefully she isn't too busy."
*
THUMP
Miss Pauling grunted as the heavy bag in her grasp tilted over the edge of her truck's tailgate and hit the ground, nearly yanking her off-balance. She really needed to get better at lifting things, but it wasn't like she had time to go hit the gym and start doing squats and deadlifts with her schedule. She was pleased with the practical muscle she had built during her time under The Administrator's employ, but man, being able to heft bodies across her shoulders would make things so much easier when she needed to move them.
Her heels skidded in the gravel as she dragged the bagged corpse into the mine she'd parked beside, headed for her usual dumping spot in an old disused shaft that had been mostly boarded up. This would be her last corpse disposal of the day, leaving her with some time to finish up some light filing before she clocked out at a reasonable time for once and tried to figure out what she was going to eat. Belt-sanding the fingerprints off of her latest pair of early morning assassinations had taken her straight through lunch and she was famished.
"Miss Pauling, are you terribly busy?"
Pauling yelped, dropping the bag and drew her revolver, diving behind a particularly large stalactite. She peered out, scanning the area with wide eyes, only to see nobody around her. She tapped her spectacles and muttered a few words, the lenses flashing violet for a moment as she checked for magical auras. There! Near the mine's entrance, a small ball of light hovered there, softly humming out short waves of yellow arcane energy.
"A scrying beacon?!"
"Sorry to startle you, Miss Pauling. I should have perhaps announced myself better. It's Spy, from Fortress." The voice came from nowhere and inside of Miss Pauling's head, and she knew the source was the beacon above her. She frowned up at it.
"You scared the hell out of me, Spy," she groused, holstering her gun and standing. She smoothed out her skirt in annoyance, looking directly at the beacon as she spoke, knowing he could see her on the other side. "Using that mirror Medic got you, I see."
"Yes, my apologies for the rude interruption," Spy soothed, a bit sheepishly. "But there's a matter of some importance that Medic and I hoped to seek your knowledge about."
"Something magical, I assume, since you mention Medic."
"Hallo, Miss Pauling!" came Medic's voice through the mirror. She could imagine him waving excitedly.
"Hi, Medic," she replied, chuckling in spite of herself. She took hold of the bag full of body and resumed dragging it. "What's up?"
"We were hoping you might be able to help us in the matter of curses," Spy explained.
"I'm not teaching Medic how to curse people."
"Ah, no. You see, we have been cursed. The team, I mean."
"The team? What happened?"
"It's a bit of a story, so I will keep things succinct. Merasmus placed a curse on us last night. This morning, we all awakened with our supernatural natures swapped."
"Swapped?"
"Spy is a jotun, while Engineer is a kitsune and Heavy is a cyborg!" Medic explained. "And so on."
"That sounds like a mess," Miss Pauling mused as she reached the edge of the shaft. She dropped the body and rounded on it, then shoved it over the edge with her foot, the bag plummeting into the darkness below and landing with a wet splok a few dozen feet below.
"Quite," Spy confirmed, clumsily lighting a cigarette with his too-long fingers. "So we need to figure out how to break the curse and return ourselves to normal."
"Well, I mean, you just have to follow the rules and you should be able to figure it out, right?"
"The rules?" Medic asked.
"You guys don't know anything about curses, huh?" Miss Pauling sauntered back to the mine entrance slowly, picking carefully through the rubble. "Curses are an extremely personalized kind of magic, with really strict rules. The terms of the curse have to be described to its victim in a language it can understand before the spell itself is invoked, so they understand what's being done to them and how the curse ends, whether that's an action the victim can take or just when they die. But it has to be clearly stated."
"Clearly? The man spoke in rhyming couplets."
Miss Pauling snickered. "Yeah, that's normal," she explained, leaving the mine and rounding on her truck. She closed the tailgate with a loud kthunk. "It's not required, but kind of tradition to get poetic with the terms of a curse. It's kind of pretentious, honestly. Couplets are popular in English curses."
"So the terms of the curse are in the poem," Spy mused.
"But nothing was said about how it ends, or how to break it," Medic said.
"Can you remember what he said?"
"Most of it was vamping, telling us we'd wear each other's skin, which I suppose was metaphor for how we've been jumbled around," Spy replied with frustration. "But the exact wording eludes me. It was a bit of a startling situation, you understand."
"And if Spy can't remember the wording, I doubt any of the rest of us can," Medic mused.
"Then I think you guys might be screwed," Miss Pauling sighed, turning the ignition and pumping the gas pedal to urge the engine of her truck to turn over after a few whines. "At this point it might just be best to go ask Merasmus yourselves."
"Ah, yes, because I imagine he'd be amenable."
"He's a scrawny old man, magic or no. Just beat him up," Miss Pauling said plainly, shrugging one shoulder. "I've gotta go. I need to call The Administrator and let her know I'm done here, and that conversation needs to be classified."
Spy rubbed the bridge of his nose, "Thank you, Miss Pauling. My apologies for the interruption."
"Don't worry about it, Spy. Good luck!" Spy and Medic watched in the mirror as she clapped her hands together and turned them in opposing directions, drawing an arc of violet light in the air which swept under to complete a circle that filled in with arcane symbols of its own accord. She moved the circle with one hand into the air before her and pulled at the series of crisscrossing magical lines at its centre, yanking it backward like a slingshot before letting go, a bolt of magic shooting from its middle into the scrying beacon outside her window and piercing it through. The mirror's surface returned to a mere reflection of the two mercenaries, the beacon dismissed.
"I like her flair for dispelling," Medic said with a giggle. "Very kinetic."
"Yes," Spy sighed, less thrilled. "We're going to need to gather the team and find Merasmus."
"Pyro and Engie are in town."
"I know," Spy grumbled, taking hold of his mirror, the magic circle around its circumference slowly lighting up once again.
*
"Isn't he just the cutest little thing?"
"Oh, his little whiskers!"
"Can I pet him? Does he bite?"
Engineer looked up at the small cluster of women crowded around him as he sat cozied up in Pyro's oversized purse, which itself sat on the hairdresser's chair next to the one in which Pyro was presently settled into with a smock draped around his shoulders, his freshly-washed black curls being combed through for styling. The ladies were a mix of staff and fellow customers, all gussied up or about to be, and cooing over him like he was the cutest damned thing they'd ever seen.
Hell, there was a strong possibility he might just be.
His mouth fell open, panting softly in the friendliest fox face he could muster, a little vulpine bark leaving him as he tried to turn up the cute factor.
They all squealed.
"Oh he loves being pet, he's a little sweetie," Pyro replied, shooting Engineer an amused glance and noticing how the kitsune's ear pricked in that direction for a moment. Almost anyone else on the team and this would be an excuse to enjoy some feminine attention, especially as one of the ladies carefully lifted him out of the purse and into her arms. Being cozied up against her bosom would be the downfall of someone like Scout or Sniper, but Engineer was—in his own words—gay as springtime, so he simply got to enjoy being doted on and fawned over as the cute little thing he was.
From the way his eyes slipped closed as the ladies began to scratch behind his ears and play with his little paws, he certainly was enjoying it.
"Three tails?!" one of the ladies asked, and Engineer's eyes snapped open. Oh yeah. He'd totally forgotten about that.
"That's why he's a house pet and not out in the wild," Pyro lied casually. "He's a rescue fox, raised on a fur farm. They breed them for their coats but it ends up with all kinds of health problems and mutations sometimes. This little guy got lucky that all he ended up with were a couple of extra tails."
Awws and sad sounds came from the excited ladies, one calling him a, "poor little guy," and telling Pyro he was a saint for taking care of him. Engineer let out a little laughing whine, drawing more coos from the ladies, and wondered how much of their car ride had been Pyro brewing up bullshit like that as he drove.
"Alright, so what kind of look were you thinkin', hon?" Pyro's hairdresser asked, peering around him to look at his face in the mirror. "You've got so much to work with."
Pyro hummed in thought, looking at himself in the mirror. It was strange, seeing this man with lush eyelashes and ebony curls, tawny skin and honeyed eyes looking back at him. This human. He was very handsome, even by his own standards, but he wasn't Pyro.
But he was. Every shape of his face was the same. The curve of his nose, the swoop of his jaw, and the almond shape of his eyes. The way his lips pursed and his cheeks creased, the way his nostrils crinkled when he scrunched them and the way his eyebrows lifted and furrowed were all the ways his face had always moved. But seeing it cast in flesh instead of flame was both freeing and unnerving. It was him, but for the fact that it wasn't.
But he couldn't go to the salon to style hair made of fire. Makeup would be impossible to blend on a face made of flames.
Today, he'd get to experience all of that, even if for just this once. He smiled. "I wanna look pretty," he said softly.
"Then you're gonna be the prettiest boy that ever walked out of these doors," the hairdresser said, giving his shoulder a warm squeeze. "I know just what to do."
*
"Take these, tie to pulley on second floor of farmhouse," Heavy said, handing Scout the ends of a few coloured streamers and a long garland with construction paper bats hanging from it, all tacked to different points under the base's eaves.
"Got it!" Scout crowed, hopping into the air with a few flaps of his wings to carry him over atop the roof of the farmhouse's highest point, landing nimbly on the roof with a flourish. He trotted over to the edge of the roof and began tying the streamers and garland to the pulley's strut.
Soldier cursed as he fumbled with a roll of tape, his fingers having devolved back into mittens making the work more than a little difficult as he tried to hang paper spiderwebs on the windows. "We should be hiring real spiders to do this job, not putting up fake replacements! We're taking jobs from American spiders," he barked through the filters of Pyro's gasmask.
"Spiders have enough jobs," Heavy said, placating the grumpy djinni. Soldier was spreading out, clutching his heavy blankets tighter to try and muffle the sensation of his own body's constant motion as he gradually lost coherence of form again. He was leaving a trail of flames in the dust where he walked, spilling out of himself.
He was going to need a break, something to help him focus again. Maybe he'd encourage him to go see Sniper. He hadn't had time to, but he knew that Medic and Scout had already tagged in to sate the new faun, but for the most part it had been Demoman who had been making Sniper scream all day, aside from a short reprieve to have lunch. Still, it had been a little bit since Demoman had had another break, and he had to imagine even the undead needed to rest sometimes.
Heavy sighed, shaking his head. They just needed to get the last of the decorations up and they could start dragging the table and chairs out of mess to get the actual party itself set up.
A drop of water landed on his cheek.
Heavy frowned, looking up to the sky. Darkness had come suddenly, clouds roiling and rolling in overhead, grey and pregnant with rain. All of the decorations they'd just put up were construction paper, crepe paper, and glitter, and there had been no rain forecast for over a week. Thunder rumbled in the distance.
"Storm's rollin' in!" Scout called from the rooftop, stating the obvious. "Man, that was fast!" He took wing, rising into the air to fight the buffeting wind that suddenly began to whip across the freshly harvested fields and the stony ridges that framed the battlefield, kicking up corn husks and dust into the sky and forcing him to shield his face against the detritus.
"Is not natural," Heavy said bluntly, casting a look at the second floor windows. He remembered childhood storms full of snow and lightning gathering whenever his papa was particularly pissed about something. Usually something Zhanna did. She was a hellion even when she was tiny. "Is jotun magic."
"Jotun?!" Scout asked, barely hearing Heavy over the noise. He fluttered over and landed atop the base, peering over the eaves at his lovers below. Thunder crackled, growing closer. "You mean Spy?"
"Storm magic moves easy with feelings," Heavy explained, looking up at the perched garuda. "He must be upset. Come, let us go find out what is going on before rain destroy decorations."
"Sure thing, Meesh! I'll be right do—"
A snap ripped through the sky with a flash of light, electricity cracking down from above and straight through the garuda to the tin-clad roof on which he stood. In a mess of burning feathers and cooked flesh, he fell over the edge, plummeting limply toward the ground below.
Heavy caught him, turning away in dismay at the sight of his boyfriend's corpse, Lichtenburg figures scorched under his skin, red lines branching out all over him. With a grimace, he laid Scout down beside the building and closed his wings around his body. "Beautiful man. Very stupid," he muttered ruefully, looking to the respawn shed expectantly.
It took about a minute for Scout to come out of respawn, looking more than a little sheepish the moment he saw Heavy and Soldier waiting for him. He looked down at his corpse with a frown, a little startled at how bad he'd gotten it. "Maybe not the best idea bein' up there when there's a storm," he admitted, scratching at the back of his head.
"Maybe," Heavy agreed with his arms crossed over his chest.
A blue light appeared abruptly, consuming the corpse lying in the dirt and ferrying it away for the respawn machine's biomass collector. A few charred feathers escaped the cleanup, the only evidence of Scout's demise. Scout sniffed, trying to not dwell on how dumb that was. "So, uh, we should go see Spy, right?"
"Yes," Heavy said, trying not to smirk at how embarrassed Scout clearly was. He'd tease him about it later, once he was less upset about it. But for now, he'd be nice and let it slide. "Come along, Soldier."
*
Medic shook his head as he finished putting his books away. He wasn't a fan of Spy smoking around his birds, though he tolerated it while they had to do their research. But with the task finished and the rogue sinking into a grouchy mood at being forced to wait around when they knew what productive action they could take, it was getting less forgivable with each drag he took. He'd given up on lectures about the effects of smoking on the lungs, and had long ago made it clear that Spy would have to source his own organs on the eventuality he needed a new pair, as he didn't have the luxury of a short life to get him out of the extended consequences of his actions. Spy having waved him off, saying that he'd been smoking for hundreds of years had done nothing to dissuade the doctor's exasperation with the whole thing.
Turning from his shelves, Medic threw the window open, trying to get some fresh air into the room. He was greeted with a cool, humid breeze whipping through the screen and the rumble of thunder overhead. "Oh! I didn't think we were supposed to have rain today."
"We're not," Spy grunted, looking over skeptically. They'd all been watching the forecast like predators for the past week, hoping their party plans would be safe.
"Well, you may wish to tell Mother Nature that," Medic chirped, craning to look up at the blackening sky from under the eaves.
There was a short knock at the door before it opened, Heavy dominating its frame with a severe look on his face. "Spy."
Spy turned to the giant, eyebrows arched to the edges of his mask in surprise.
"Need to calm down," Heavy said plainly, pointing upward. "You are going to make it rain."
Spy scoffed, taking a drag of his cigarette. "Me? Really, now."
"Jotun magic works with emotion," Heavy said, crossing his arms over his chest.
"Then there is no need to worry at all, I am fine," Spy dismissed with a wave. Outside, lighting struck the roof of the farmhouse. In the distance, the sound of rain pounding the mown fields began to approach.
"We've determined that we need to track down Merasmus to find out how to lift the curse," Medic explained with a shake of his head. "But it would be best to have the whole team for it, and Pyro and Engie will likely not be back for a while."
Spy tried not to pout. He hated having to wait. He hated having a clear course of action and not being able to take it. He hated the fact that he had grown so soft that he couldn't bring himself to pull Pyro out of his first chance at open socialization with humans since surely before the rogue himself was born. It would be a simple matter to tell him to get a move on, that a makeover and a spa day was frivolous and less important than putting them back in their own bodies.
But when he'd activated the scrying mirror and looked in on him, he'd seen the smile on Pyro's face, the joy in his eyes as he'd told his hairdresser that he wanted to look pretty. He couldn't take that away from him. He couldn't.
So he'd dismissed the beacon without saying a word, leaving Pyro none the wiser.
The pounding rain approached, thunder crackling and growling above them.
"So Spy is in bad mood," Heavy concluded with annoyance. "Storm magic is jotun magic. Spy. If you cannot control this, you will ruin all of Pyro's paper things we just put up."
Spy turned back to Heavy, unable to hide the hurt in his eyes at the thought. "Then how do I control it?"
"Calm down," Heavy said simply.
"Ah, yes, because that is the easiest thing in the world," Spy scoffed, all the more annoyed. More thunder came, with wind gusting in through the window hard enough to toss some of Medic's paperwork around.
Scout shoved into the room around Heavy, sick of the giant taking up the whole door. "That's what I'm here for!" he announced, swooping in and rounding on Spy, laying a hand on his shoulder and plucking his cigarette from his lips. He ground it out on Medic's desk, earning a bark of annoyance from the doctor, and kissed Spy, cupping his cheek gently.
The difference in scale was wild, like when Heavy was a jotun, but far more uncanny. Spy was still so thin, so gaunt, so narrow a man, but still so much larger. His thin lips dwarfed Scout's, and when the garuda parted them to seek his tongue, he found it filled his mouth just like Heavy's would.
Spy sighed softly into the kiss, one oversized hand coming to rest on his lover's lower back, covering the whole of it and more, his thumb brushing the base of where feathers met flesh above. He urged Scout to come around him and settle between his long, long legs, pulling him close as he felt some of his tension melting away. Few things could soothe him like his lover.
Slowly, pleasure began to creep over him, warm and comforting, like a blanket fresh from the dryer on a cold winter's day, and his eyes cracked open as he realized they were on fire.
"Soldier?" he asked, pulling away from Scout's lips to look around, dancing hues of red and orange surrounding him from all angles.
"Yes," Soldier replied, his voice seeming to come from all around Spy as he sat inside of the djinni's fiery form.
Outside, the sound of rain approaching began to fade, the winds no longer buffeting the base.
"I bring them to help you," Heavy explained. "Man you love, and Soldier, who can make you feel good." He elected not to mention that Spy would be helpful to Soldier as well, giving him something to help focus himself. "Go spend time, have sex. Will make you calm."
Spy scoffed, shaking his head as he let out a soft chuckle. "Very well. You know how to handle being a jotun, after all," he conceded. "There's not much more to do but wait, anyway. We might as well try to enjoy ourselves in the meanwhile."
"Don't get up to too much trouble," Medic teased. "Or we're likely to be too exhausted to party properly tonight."
As if on cue, Sniper's voice rang out through the base, the ragged groan of a particularly potent orgasm.
"I think with Mundy around, the party will still have plenty of entertainment," Spy mused. He carefully rose from his seat and gently teased his fingers between Scout's wings, earning a soft, horny sound from the younger man. "Let us retire to my quarters."
"Okay," Soldier said, his blankets and mask in a pile on the floor behind the chair, his fiery form riding upon Spy's shoulders like a flaming mantle.
The three men exited, crossing the hall to disappear into the rogue's room, leaving Heavy and Medic alone. Overhead, thunder had ceased to rumble. "Need to kill time too," Heavy said with a shrug, looking with purpose to his beloved doctor.
"So we do," Medic giggled.
Below them, they heard Demoman's cry of, "Already?! I'm dead, nae a machine!"
Heavy's eyes flicked toward the stairs. "I am part machine," he mused. "Maybe we should go give Demoman break."
"Have some fun with Sniper ourselves?" Medic hummed thoughtfully as he shut the window and rounded his desk, laying a hand on his lover's belt.
"It has been long time," Heavy conceded, a flirty smile crossing his face.
"Mm, it has," Medic agreed, answering him with bedroom eyes. "Let's go be good teammates. After all, even dead men could use some rest."
*
"So what does he eat, anyway?" the hairdresser—whom had introduced herself as Rosa—asked, her fingers nimbly braiding Pyro's hair, his chair turned away from the mirror so that he could be surprised by the final result.
"Rodents, squash, things like that," Pyro said simply. "But he really likes bacon."
"Bacon?"
"Oh come on, there's no way this little cutie should be eating bacon! That can't be good for him!" One of the nail techs, Denise, said. She had Engineer in her arms like a baby, fingers tickling through the soft, fluffy white fur of his belly. The kitsune himself was practically boneless in her grasp, luxuriating in ultimate comfort.
"I didn't say he should either," Pyro giggled. "He likes to steal it off my plate when he thinks I'm not looking. Mischievous little thing."
Engineer's eye cracked open, and Pyro met his gaze with a smirk. It was frankly not fair that he couldn't even defend himself. He'd done it once! Sure it was only like three days ago, but the fact that he still hadn't let it go was absolutely childish. A soft grumble welled in his vulpine throat, and Denise giggled.
Rosa laughed. "Sounds like he don't like bein' called out for it."
*
"Pretty sure only Jane could take a dick that long right now," Scout chuckled as Soldier grunted, his fiery body impaled on Spy's cock, slowly growing more distinct and detailed as he fucked himself on the jotun's length.
"Not having organs helps!" Soldier said, his hands splayed out on Spy's belly as he rolled his hips, the already solidified shape of his asshole clenching around the intrusion.
"I mean, you got some, otherwise you couldn't jizz, right?"
Spy moaned, ignoring the chatter as he lay on the line of mattresses the men had dragged from the spare rooms to cushion the floor, allowing the too-tall jotun to relax in relative comfort while Soldier's flames crawled atop him to ride his way to coherent shape. It was so much, the constant motion of Soldier's fiery body, the prickling intensity of sensation as the way his flames lit up his nerves went from soft comfort to sensual bliss as his intent swerved to something lurid. It had him grasping at his own face, at his own chest, reaching for Soldier but not finding enough solid yet to hold and desperate to touch. Scout sat at his head, legs crossed, Spy's head pillowed in his lap as he watched his lovers fuck. He gently plucked Spy's too-large hand from his own head and wrapped it around his own back, pushing Spy's fingers in between his wings. The jotun took the hint and directed his energy there, rubbing at his back where feathers met flesh, drawing soft moans from his lover.
Soldier grunted softly with effort, all of his attention on Spy inside of him and making the shape of an ass to squeeze him, to ride him, to fuck himself on. It steadied him like making a dick steadied him with Heavy, like having a mouth to kiss him and a tongue to taste him. Except here the pleasure was different, deeper, and Soldier found himself growing more solid with every thrust, more focused with every roll of his hips, and he knew he'd shaped a prostate (or something like it) when Spy hit just right inside and he felt his legs grow weak, but not lose shape. He gasped at that, arching up, the shape of his broad, muscular body finding form amid the flames, and drew Spy and Scout's eyes in wonder.
"Goddamn, Jane," Scout said, his voice breathy with pleasure as he hunched over Spy, his wings shaking. "You're so fuckin' hot."
Heat and pressure enveloped Spy's cock, clutching at him desperately in Soldier's feverish depths, and he moaned a soft agreement, finally able to grasp hold of the man's hip and urge him on. "Soldier," he hissed, eyes rolling back, unable to find the words to beg for more under the sensory assault of the djinn on his cock. "Jane..."
Soldier squeezed a little tighter at that, at Spy moaning out his name like a plea, feeling his fingers starting to separate from one another as his hands gripped the narrow jotun's middle. "Say that again."
"Jane?" Spy asked, a bit surprised.
"Yes."
A smile spread across Spy's lips, and he looked down to the gyrating djinni with hooded, glowing eyes. "Jane," he purred, gripping his hip a little tighter, urging him to move a little faster, "please."
Soldier moaned, hunching forward as he braced himself and sped his hips, railing himself on Spy's cock with increasing hunger. His teeth grit, his face in a blissful grimace as his cock bounced with the motion, all starkly defined and fully formed.
Spy and Scout studied the sight, in awe of the fiery man's focus as he fucked himself, grunting with exertion and need. Spy found himself growing quickly unable to do much more but grab the two men and shudder with bliss.
"Ren," Scout whispered, quiet enough for Soldier not to hear as he doubled over Spy, the fingers now clumsily rubbing circles between his wings making him shiver with pleasure. "Can you—"
Spy arched to the edge of Scout's lap, turning his head to nose against the garuda's cock, hard and twitching and beginning to leak as it stood ignored. He inhaled his lover's scent with a sigh and a moan. "Fuck my mouth," Spy bade, pressing a kiss to Scout's shaft. "I can't—" he jawed at the air, "Jane... it's so much."
Scout grinned at that and licked his lips. "Sure thing, babe," he hummed, and gently slid out from under Spy's head, letting him lie back on the mattress. "You want me to—woah!"
The garuda found himself dragged atop Spy, his long fingers wrapping easily around his middle to pull him over until he was seated on his lover's chest, wings fluttering for stability. He looked down into Spy's blue, glowing eyes, his lust-drunk expression, and did what he was asked. He tilted up onto his knees and pushed his cock into his mouth.
Spy sucked him in earnest, desperate for something in his mouth as his cock drowned in Soldier's hot, quivering body. He cupped Scout's ass in his hand, a finger slipping between his cheeks to rub at his hole as the garuda bucked blindly into his mouth.
"Jesus, fuck!" Scout gasped, planting his hands on the mattress and fucking his face as requested, unsure if he could stop himself as the jotun's hot, huge tongue nearly enveloped his cock.
Soldier watched Scout's ass bob, Spy's finger teasing at his entrance, and groaned at the sight. He wasn't the same as when he was all furry with that cute tail, but Scout's ass was Scout's ass, and Soldier loved it no matter what. Watching his wings spread out and quake in the air was pretty cute, too, all things considered.
"Ren," Scout gasped, arching back, "my back, my wings."
Spy raised an eyebrow at that. It felt that good that he'd prefer it to his hole being played with? It felt like a devious little detail that Medic had never quite shared, even if he knew how much the doctor enjoyed it, and Spy filed the information away for both more immediate and much later use. He relented, moving back up to Scout's back, scratching down his spine a bit before rubbing in deep, fingers splayed to massage both wings where they met his body and pulling a whimpering wail from his young paramour.
Oh, what a beautiful sound.
Scout arched back, his hips snapping forward, and he found Spy was less sucking him and more holding his lips tight and letting him rut against his wet, hot tongue. That was fine with Scout, who bucked in sloppily, chasing his release in that blissful embrace, hot throbs of pure pleasure pulsing through his back with each swirl of Spy's fingers.
Spy's hand was practically dragging Soldier's hips forward and back, pulling mindless groans from the djinni as he was forced and filled over and over, his toes curling as he was half-overpowered, half-pleaded with by Spy's grasping grip. Scout writhed in front of him, his ass flexing as he fucked Spy's mouth, his moans mixing with Spy's muffled groans as his wings shuddered and shook, spread out like some lurid angel.
Soldier's hand snapped to his cock, tugging himself over the edge with a few sloppy strokes. He roared as he came, his voice coming hoarse as he sank down to the root and milked himself out over Spy's belly, his ass rippling and squeezing at him like a vice.
Spy moaned around Scout, gripping Soldier's hip hard as he planted his feet and bucked up into him, fucking Soldier through the clenching of his orgasm, and following him over the edge with a cock-muffled cry, pumping his load deep into the gasping djinni.
Scout grabbed Spy's head and humped his tongue for all he was worth, the vibrations of his voice around him sparking up his spine as the jotun's fingers dug in and lit his belly ablaze. He cried out, pushing in as far as he could and barely grazing Spy's throat as he came, his voice hollowing into an animal wail as Spy swallowed and sucked him dry, until there was nothing left for him to drink down.
The garuda flopped off of his lover into a heap, spent, curling his wings around himself. Soldier sagged atop Spy, still impaled, unwilling to move. Spy lay there limply, shivering in the aftershocks of his own orgasm.
Dimly, he noticed sunlight streaming through the window, and birds chirping outside.
*
"So he hasn't proposed yet?" Denise asked, flabbergasted. "He knows that's legal now, right?" She sat opposite of Pyro at the salon's manicure station, filing his nails as they chatted.
"No, I just don't think he's that kind of guy. He's old-fashioned," Pyro explained around a soft laugh, leaning back in his seat, his head tilted back to keep a pair of cucumber slices over his eyes, the scent of them and the fancy facial mask they'd smeared on him making him a little hungry.
"Old-fashioned guy should wanna get hitched and settle down, honey," Rosa said as she trimmed the hair of another customer, who was sitting contentedly with Engineer curled up in her lap, suffering the sling and arrows of conversation having turned from him the cute little fox to him, Pyro's boyfriend of over two years. It would be mortifying if it weren't for the fact that Pyro talked him up rather flatteringly.
"Not for gay guys," Pyro said, shrugging with one shoulder to keep his other hand still. "When you're used to the idea of never getting to marry or have those kinds of rights, and having to scrape for every bit of respect and footing you have, that kind of skepticism of the establishment and devotion to secrecy and discretion dies hard. Even if having the hard-won right is a huge relief."
Denise shook her head. "And that don't bother you?"
"Not really, no. I don't need a piece of paper or a specific sort of ring to tell me I'm happy. If he decided to do it, it'd be really cute, but honestly I think we'd both be doing it for the sake of having a big party about it all," Pyro chuckled.
"So, you gettin' all gussied up for him then? Big date night? Or are you gonna pop the question on him?" Denise giggled, setting down her emery board and buffing Pyro's nails with a cloth before grabbing the nail polish he'd picked out: a lovely shade of periwinkle.
"A Halloween proposal! Gotta make it spooky, like shove a ring in an apple and make him bob for it," Rosa laughed.
Denise snorted. "My luck if I did that for my girlfriend she'd swallow the damn thing."
"Jenny does love apples."
"Nah, this is for me. Work was really crazy yesterday and I wanted to treat myself."
Engineer's eye cracked open at that dramatic understatement. He huffed out a little breath in place of a laugh, counting it a victory as the lady cuddling him cooed at him and scratched beneath his chin.
"Well you came to the right spot," Denise hummed, painting Pyro's nails. "We're gonna have you lookin' so good when you walk outta here your man's gonna drop to one knee on pure instinct."
Engineer's ears pressed back nervously.
*
Demoman would have smiled if he could. Sniper lay whimpering atop Medic, the doctor's hands roving his chest and belly greedily, teasing through his body hair and pinching his nipples. The faun's legs were spread wide, his cock twitching in the open air as Medic's cock shallowly thrust into his ass. Between those legs and astride Medic's, Heavy knelt, his cock in hand and guiding it to his hole.
Sniper arched up with a wail as Heavy worked himself into him alongside Medic, forcing him open wider and wider to welcome the girth of both men together. His eyes stared blindly up at the ceiling, mouth agape as the sheer sensory overload of being filled so full with faun's senses brought him to fresh new heights of strain and pleasure. "Holy fucking hell!" he babbled, grabbing at the sheets and unable to hold back the paroxysms that rocked his body at the influx of input.
He was utterly gorgeous: red-faced and sweating, eyes watery and muscles tense. His hole was stretched wide around Heavy and Medic, and Demoman found himself wanting to push between his lips, no matter how utterly worn out he was from keeping his suddenly sex-crazed husband satisfied all day.
It was a good thing he'd wound up as the undead one. If he were living, he'd probably have given up the ghost from sheer exhaustion at this point. Everyone was busy, so it wasn't like the whole team could constantly pitch in to keep Sniper occupied. He'd probably get that at the party though, if they didn't have all of this sorted out by then, so Demoman took some solace there.
It all reminded him a bit of when Scout went into rut, but with less violence and more tension. Hell, it would explain why he was just so utterly insatiable. Sniper's first (and hopefully last) day as a faun had to be during the height of autumn, didn't it?
Either way, Heavy and Medic had given him a break, so as tempting as it was to watch the two lovers double-penetrate his husband, Demoman took this as an opportunity to go actually take that break.
Walking into the hall, Demoman puttered over in the direction of the bathroom. A dismally small room containing two sinks, a mirror, one stall, and two urinals, it was strictly utilitarian. Deeply annoying in the mornings too, as nobody wanted to wait until they got to the locker room to take care of their morning hygiene, so the team ended up all climbing over each other to get to the sinks to brush their teeth and shave.
As the dullahan entered the room and saw his reflection, his posture slumped. Dead, ashen skin and a neck with no head. He wouldn't have to worry about brushing teeth or trimming his facial hair, but the cost wasn't exactly preferable. He'd meant what he said when he wished he'd had lips to kiss Sniper. He wanted to pepper the man with kisses, nuzzle at his neck when he told him how gorgeous he was when he brought him pleasure and over the edge, shivering and moaning in his arms like the damned incubus of a man he was. He yearned for his lips, and the taste of his tongue. This curse couldn't be over soon enough.
He considered the black void in his neck, and how Soldier had said there was some too-vast space in there. He bet if he reached in now he'd just get a hand full of spunk, considering how many times Sniper had found satisfaction in fucking that void so far today. He snorted a laugh at that.
Taking up a spot at the urinal, he thought for a moment. Could he pee? He was undead. It wasn't like he needed to eat or drink. He knew Soldier used the bathroom, though, but Soldier also wore heads so that he could eat and drink. Did that activate his body's digestive system, then? What happened to everything that was working its way through his digestive system before the curse activated?
His thoughts turned to eating and drinking. The hole in his neck was a separate space, so he couldn't exactly pour liquor in there and have it do anything for him. Slowly, the realization dawned on him that he wouldn't be able to drink at the party. But he'd been so good all week, not drinking off the clock at all! It wasn't fair! He should be able to get liquored up with all of his mates the same as anyone!
If he didn't have a mouth or throat, he could always take it anally. He remembered once Medic had described a wild night in med school ending up with an emergency room visit thanks to a friend of his testing the theory that absorption would be quicker and it would more efficient to get alcohol into the bloodstream if he bypassed the digestive system. So technically, he didn't have to drink to get drunk, right?
That thought gave Demoman pause. What the hell was wrong with him?! There was being a functional addict and then there was that. No. No, he was not about to let himself need liquor so much that he was willing to stick a funnel in his arse just to get buzzed, undeath or no. He was a drunk, but he had some fucking pride.
He'd worked hard to get his drinking under control, to keep it mostly contained to work hours, to try to sort out his maladaptive coping mechanisms in a way that let him enjoy his life outside of the explosions and the screams. His personal life was the happiest, most stable it had ever been, and he had his husband and his team to thank for that. It felt like a betrayal to do something like that. He could party sober just fine, and have a lovely time. Music and conversation and some fireworks and passing Sniper and Scout around like party favours was enough for a great night, and he didn't need to stick a bottle of rum up his ass to enjoy it.
He'd spent so much of his life just trying to claw out a little bit of self-respect. He wasn't about to go throwing it away now, no matter how much the demon liked to call to him when he was distressed. And by the gods was he distressed.
He huffed and tucked his cock back into his sweats, stalking out of the bathroom with renewed determination stomping down on the self-loathing his thoughts had summoned. Fuck it, a distraction was in order, and there were three braw men in his quarters right now who could easily provide one. He could hear them from the hallway, after all.
He slipped back into his quarters, closing the door behind him, the numb of undeath keeping him from realizing he'd never remembered to actually pee.
*
"Alright, it's time for the big reveal. I know you didn't do it for him, but your man's gonna go wild, I just know it," Rosa said, grinning broadly as Pyro stood with his back to the mirror. "Go ahead."
Pyro turned, eyes going wide as he beheld himself. About half of his long, curly locks were braided, then spun into a pair of buns at the top of his head, each secured with a lavender ribbon, the rest of his hair hanging loose down his shoulders and back in inky black whorls. His face was made up with black eyeliner in short, pointed wings, eyeshadow in blue tones that faded away as they reached up to his eyebrows, and peachy, glossy lipstick that made his lips look practically plush. A touch of blush and contour made his features stand out in a way that Pyro could almost better recognize as his own than before, and it fascinated him. Even so, little white freckles dotted his cheeks, and a little heart-shaped beauty mark was drawn below the corner of one eye, adding a touch of whimsy to the otherwise very trendy makeup style. His fingernails were periwinkle, and his toenails matched, and looking at himself, he felt pretty in a way he hadn't in a long, long time.
He didn't know what to say. He didn't want to cry because it would ruin his makeup, but he was afraid that if he said anything, he'd break down.
The look on his face said it all, and Rosa threw an arm around him for a half-hug. "You look beautiful, baby," she soothed, giving his shoulders a squeeze.
"I do," Pyro whispered, staring into his own eyes. Eyes that weren't his. The bittersweetness of it all stole his breath, how he could have all of this at the cost of being someone else.
Engineer watched him and the emotional journey written on his face, and wanted nothing more than to wrap his arms around his firefly. It wasn't fair that he couldn't. It wasn't fair that Pyro couldn't have this simple joy whenever he wanted. It wasn't fair that the sweetest man on the planet only got to know community at work of all things.
But as a soft smile crossed Pyro's lips, the wonder in his eyes soothed him. At least he got to have it now. And that was something.
*
As the door shut behind him, Demoman turned to see Sniper clutching Heavy close, kissing him feverishly, grasping at him with animal desperation as the giant hammered into him, swallowing his pleasured wails as he cradled the back of his head with The Gunslinger. Medic lay beneath them, his mouth stretched open around a silent scream, his hips bucking shallowly alongside Heavy's as they neared their frenzied peak together.
He watched the three men moving together, bodies undulating in the bed he and his husband shared as Sniper was kissed and caressed and filled with their teammates, their friends. He fairly howled into Heavy's mouth as he came, his whole body shuddering as his orgasm rocked him and he came between his and Heavy's bellies, the clenching of his hole around them drawing louder moans from the men inside him.
Demoman could watch Sniper forever, writhing in pleasure and exulting in sensuality. He was gorgeous. Lanky, hairy, tanned and scarred, a man who'd lived a whole life already by his thirties and refused to deny himself new experiences, new joys. He relished sex and pleasure like a creature made for it long before the curse had hit, and Demoman couldn't deny that nobody deserved to be swapped with Scout more for the form of a faun than his lascivious lover.
The woolly legs and wagging tail and horns were rather cute, too, he couldn't deny. Though he couldn't help but notice that those horns had grown over the course of the day, now curling back over his head, as though they were trying to catch up to how much Scout's antlers had grown.
The bomber would've smiled if he could, watching him shiver and whine as Heavy and Medic fucked him through his climax and chased their own within him, coming together loudly and filling him with their seed. The three men sagged together, Heavy and Medic slowly pulling out of Sniper and guiding him to lay between them, cuddling him close as he gently rode the high of afterglow.
The two of them had a lot of experience shagging a faun, after all. They knew how to pamper him and prolong the magic, and as Sniper cozied himself into Medic's furry chest and felt Heavy's big, strong arm curl around him, he looked utterly content.
"Look at ye three," Demoman hummed. "A lovely sight."
Sniper smiled as he looked to the bomber, missing his grin even if he could hear it in his voice. "Room for one more," he offered, holding out his arms.
The twin beds lashed together were just enough for three men. Four was pushing it. But Demoman wasn't about to tell his husband no. He climbed onto the beds and slotted himself in between Heavy and Sniper, wrapping his arms around the limp faun and squeezing him close.
"You know, Schatz," Medic said after a few moments of quiet, "you and Demo still haven't had sex."
"Y'think it's time the big guy ticks off the last box on his to-do list?" Sniper laughed.
Heavy hummed. He'd just come, and it would be a little bit before he could go again. "This is true."
Demoman snickered. "Ye just had me Mickey," he said, inclining his neck as though he were tilting his head thoughtfully. "Only fair I get next go, aye?"
"Thought we were here to give you break," Heavy chuckled.
"I had me break, just now."
Heavy shrugged and shimmied Demoman's sweatpants down, then reached for the lube. "Will be fingers first. Need to recover."
Lifting his leg for access, Demoman would have grinned if he could. "Just dinnae use The Gunslinger in there and I've nae complaints, lad."
"Need to find big enough glove," Heavy chuckled as he slicked up his human hand. "Then can finger forever. Keep Sniper entertained all night."
"Mate..." Sniper moaned at the thought of just laying back and dancing on Heavy's digits for hours, mechanical fingers flicking tirelessly against his prostate as he shuddered and shook.
"I think he agrees," Medic giggled, his hand lazily teasing at Sniper's instant erection.
Demoman chuckled, reaching down to gather Sniper's balls into his hand, gently rolling his fingers over them and making the faun gasp. "Need tae find a glove for the lad, then. Maybe we can set Mickey up like that, have his mouth open for use while Heavy flicks him, aye?"
"Gods," Sniper gasped, arching into the touches.
"Would be good party," Heavy agreed, slipping his fingers between Demoman's cheeks to rub slippery circles around his hole. He was amused to find him already pliant and ready, and realized Sniper must have been there once or twice already by that point in the day. He slipped a finger in with ease, making the dullahan hiss and lean into it with a soft curse.
"Shit," Demoman gasped, clenching a little around the intrusion. "I ken yer fingers are large, but kennin' dinnae compare tae feelin'."
"His fingers are like being fucked by a smaller man," Medic hissed lustfully. "And his Schwanz is beyond compare."
Sniper could argue, but found himself unable as the doctor's hand sped, stroking him in his own excitement while he watched Demoman writhe as Heavy slipped a second finger inside and slid deeper.
The stretch was just enough of a challenge, but satisfying in a way that had electric shivers rippling up his spine even as his hole ached at the intrusion. Sniper had fucked him a few times already that day, but he'd had enough time for his hole to recover, and for Heavy's fingers to stretch him anew. Heavy wrapped his other arm under him, clutching his back to his furry chest as he began to thrust his fingers, slowly fucking him and forcing him to relax around them.
His voice came freely, from everywhere at once as he moaned and gasped, the sounds less a pull of air and more a reflex, a way of communicating his pleasure in his undead state. He wished he could bury his face in Sniper's chest, press kisses there as he panted under the assault of Heavy's fat fingers fucking him. He grabbed hold of Sniper, holding the faun close and pressing his neck to his husband's heated flesh in lieu of what he wanted, taking what he could get. His hand left Sniper's furry balls, tracing up his belly to his chest to tease his nipple instead, earning little hitches and whines for the effort.
Medic giggled, cuddling Sniper from the other side, filling Demoman's role of kissing and nipping at his neck as he kept the speed of his hand stroking the faun's cock slow and steady. He wrapped a leg around one of Sniper's, his own waking erection pressing against his woolly hip.
Soft kisses fell on Demoman's shoulders as Heavy cuddled him close, the giant's fluffy body so soft and comforting against his back. Soon enough those kisses traced to his neck, and he found his voice growing louder.
"His neck," Sniper gasped, writhing under the men touching him.
Heavy obliged with a smile, biting gently at the side of Demoman's neck and earning a whine, sparks jolting through the dullahan's dead flesh. He licked there, laving his tongue over the spot he'd bitten, earning more of the bomber's whimpers for his efforts. "Demoman make beautiful sounds," Heavy soothed, pushing his fingers in deep and beginning to flick them, tapping on Demoman's prostate insistently and making him jerk and gasp. "Want to hear more."
"Fuck," Demoman grit out, his cock leaking into Sniper's wool with each press of Heavy's huge digits, making his hips jolt and buck against his husband's hip. "Misha..."
"Like when you say my name, Tavish," Heavy growled, biting down again, a little harder this time, and earning a warbling wail.
Instantly, Demoman understood why everyone spoke so highly of Heavy in bed. The man knew what he was doing, and how to use his warm, rumbling voice just right. "Misha," he hissed, bucking back against Heavy's hand, writhing as electric bliss rocketed through him with each press of the giant's fingertips inside of him. "Want ye tae fuck me," he barely gasped out, and he meant it. He was fit to burst already from Heavy's fingers, from Heavy's teeth on his neck, from the soft sounds of Sniper beside him, panting and moaning as he and Medic toyed with his beautiful body. He wouldn't be able to last much longer, and he wanted Heavy inside of him when he came.
Heavy chuckled and slid his fingers out, only happy to oblige. He lined himself up and pushed in with ease, lube and Sniper's come inside of him slicking the way for the giant to slide in to the root with little effort.
Demoman wailed, arching back against Heavy, who wrapped his arms around the bomber and ground into him.
"Cold," Heavy groaned, the room temperature body in his arms almost surprising in that his temperature remained tepid even in his deepest depths. "Like Soldier was."
"Feels good, doesn't it, Schatz?" Medic teased, thinking back to the night they spent at Soldier's old apartment fondly.
"Strange, but good," Heavy replied with a grin, pulling back a bit to buck in and make Demoman moan in reply.
"Doc, I wanna—" Sniper said, reaching for Demoman and trying to roll onto his side.
"Of course," Medic acquiesced, letting go so that Sniper could turn to face his husband, scooting chest-to-chest with the man so that he could hold him close, so that Demoman could hold him in turn, and so that he could lean in and begin licking at the edge of his neck.
Demoman whimpered helplessly, shivering between Sniper and Heavy as the faun's tongue traced the edge of his flesh, where it met void, and sent billowing throbs of bliss through his whole body straight to his cock. It twitched not with heartbeat but with the clenches of his pelvic floor as he grasped and squeezed at Heavy inside of him, begging wordlessly for more.
Heavy obeyed gladly, throwing a leg over the bomber's hip for purchase and bucking into him, soft groans spilling over his lips as he kissed Demoman's shoulder.
Sniper whined against Demoman's neck as Medic lifted his woolly leg and held it aloft to push into him with a soft growl, biting gently at his back. He clung to his husband as the two of them were filled by the older couple, burying his face in the crook of Demoman's neck as he was swiftly overwhelmed.
Demoman found it utterly adorable, and wished he could know just how powerful it was for the oversensitive faun. He reached between his thighs and took hold of his cock, stroking him with shaking fingers as Heavy's thrusts picked up speed, as good as the giant could manage in the slightly awkward position.
Sparks pounded into him with each ingress, his hand on Sniper's cock jerking, his whole body quivering in the giant's grasp. The Gunslinger splayed across his chest, holding him carefully in place as Heavy fucked him with increasing need. An easy, lazy fuck might have been what he'd intended, but Demoman suspected that much like Medic fucking Sniper was lighting a fire of lust in his belly, it was doing the same for Heavy.
"Touch me," Demoman whispered, and Sniper complied, taking hold of his husband's cock and stroking him shakily.
"Gonna come," Sniper gasped against the bomber's neck, Medic's cock inside him enough to finally tip him over the edge. "Gonna—" his words cut off in a choked wail as he came, messing Demoman's hand.
He was beautiful, shivering in his arms, so overcome with pure ecstatic bodily bliss. Demoman desperately wanted to pepper him with kisses. Instead, he jerked abruptly as Heavy began licking the edge of his neck, sparks jumping through him in an instant, and without warning, he came with a cry, clamping down around the giant inside of him.
It didn't take much longer before Heavy and Medic followed them over the edge, spilling their seed inside the other men before sagging to the bed in a sweaty, sticky, sated heap.
"We've got a while before Pyro and Engie are back," Medic muttered after a moment of silence.
"Nap," Heavy grunted, saying what they were all thinking.
*
Engineer's truck rolled into the flat dirt expanse behind the bluffs out back of the base that passed for a parking lot and shut off, Pyro sagging in his seat after the long drive. Engineer himself was in his lap, curled up there for Pyro to pet as he drove, trying to comfort the former djinni as much as he could through all of the complicated emotions he'd been going through.
It wasn't the same as hugging him, holding him in his arms and making him feel safe, but it was what he could do for now.
"We're home," Pyro said, giving him a more enthusiastic scratch under the chin to rouse him.
Home.
Engineer had never given much thought to it when Pyro would call the base that before. But now, he thought he understood it a little better. Home wasn't a building. Home was the team. Home was where he could be himself. "Good. Let's get the fellers to unload all these supplies, 'n see if I can't get Spy to show me how to get my arms back. Miss Rosa weren't wrong about your man goin' wild over you," he teased, trying not to be too earnest and get Pyro worked up again.
Pyro chuckled and gave him another scratch before opening the door. "You're sweet, Babyfox."
"Don't you go changin' pet names over this," Engineer shot with a laugh, hopping off of his lap and out of the cab, to the ground below.
As Engineer trotted through the fence, he found the team walking out of the respawn building, their hair wet, towels around their waists. "Team shower, huh? What, did you fellers get up to an orgy while we were gone to pass the time?"
"Nah, just a foursome and a threeway, but it was in different rooms, so I don't think it counts," Scout replied with a shrug, digging in his ear with his pinky finger.
Engineer shook his head. "Honestly, I dunno what I expected. Well get dressed, we got hooch 'n food 'n a couple coolers fulla meat ready to go." He looked back to where Pyro was just passing through the gate. "And Pyro got hisself a makeover 'n he's feelin' kind of a way about it, so y'all better compliment him or I'll bite all you sumbitches."
With everyone apprised of the situation, the team splits off to go about their assigned tasks for the day. Some researching, some still trying to set up for the party, and most of them doing their level best to figure out how to function in their new bodies, and how to help one another cope. Sniper and Soldier seem to have figured out some pretty fun ways to go about it.
Ao3 Link!
Part of Monstrous Intent!
Warnings: Dullahan neck sex for some good old-fashioned weird shit :D No gore, just odd.
(Within Monstrous Intent BLU Spy and BLU Scout are not related in any way. They are in fact different species.)
---------
Piling out of the combination meeting room/recreation room, the miscast mercenaries set out to handle their tasks for the day. The decision was made to not stress about it too much until the people who were better equipped to figure out how to fix things had come to a conclusion, and so Pyro had made the decision to go handle the beer and snacks run—as well as picking up some extra meat for the inevitable werewolf—since for the day he was for all intents and purposes Just Some Guy. He did request Engineer accompany him, however. Meanwhile, Heavy and Soldier decided to work on setting up decorations. Scout was supposed to assist them, but the moment the meeting had ended, had given his boyfriends a, "I'll catch up," and headed outside. Both of them knew better than to expect his help after that.
Medic had concluded that between himself, Spy, Demoman, and what few magic books he did have on hand, they might be able to get some idea of what they were dealing with. The former two headed upstairs to the infirmary to dig out the books, Demoman holding Sniper up and helping the unsteady new faun walk as best he could.
Sniper was a gangly man to begin with, and now with new legs and having to walk on what were essentially his toenails, he was moments away from toppling every time he stood. He clung to Demoman for dear life, shaky as a newborn deer as his husband steered him out into the landing.
"Yer like bloody Bambi," Demoman teased, sliding one arm around Sniper's waist and directing the assassin's arm around his own shoulder. He pulled him tight against his body, keeping his rangy husband upright.
"Laugh all you like, mate," Sniper grumbled. As Demoman pulled him close, his breath caught. Something so small as a hand on his waist was enough to set him off, and suddenly his sense of smell and touch were growing sharper. Crikey, this was what Scout had to deal with at the slightest provocation? No wonder he was constantly trying to catch a shag. It took so little to make his body respond.
And respond it did, as he felt himself grow warmer, felt the muscle of Demoman's shoulders under his arm and hand, felt the hand on his waist and the way his fingers twitched just so as he held onto him. He leaned into Demoman, turning to press his chest to the man's side, to press his hips to his hip, letting his hand come to rest on the bomber's broad chest. Demoman's hand slid to the small of his back as he moved, and that was enough to have Sniper half-hard already against his husband. His eyes followed the muscular lines of Demoman's body up to his neck, the sinewy shapes that ended abruptly and led into pure darkness. He remembered what that darkness felt like when Soldier let him find pleasure in that abyss, and need and want and hunger welled up within him in an almost overwhelming urge.
His hand tightened on Demoman's shoulder, squeezing hard enough to hurt the dullahan even through the numbness of undeath. "Tavish."
Demoman winced, his neck twisting uselessly as he looked with surprise to the faun holding him in an iron grip. His pupils were blown wide, nearly blotting out the blue of his eyes. "Mickey?"
"Can I fuck your neck hole, please?" he asked, his voice the monotone of desperate duress, his whole body tense with need.
Demoman looked to the stairs, then back to his husband, the death grip on his shoulder growing even tighter. He turned back and called out, "I'll be up tae help in a few! Need tae take care o' somethin' first!"
He'd already been pulled into their quarters by the time Medic replied from upstairs with an, "Okay!"
*
Spy had to bend almost in half to pass through the door to the infirmary, as he had for every doorway on base. His back was aching and his knees didn't appreciate it all much more, and as he straightened back up upon entering, he considered it a small mercy that the exposed rafters of the upper floor allowed him to at least stand up straight. Even if his head was surrounded by the birds nesting there, cooing with confusion.
He turned to see Medic close the infirmary door, shrugging his shoulders and upper back a little. He was clearly still trying to adjust to the lack of weight on his back, and the way his clothes fell felt wrong to him. Spy sighed a little. At least his clothes were still the right size; the rogue's elastic mask was the only thing he owned that could fit his new frame. "No Demoman?" he asked, noting that the doctor was alone.
"I think Sniper got him," Medic chuckled, turning to his companion. He motioned to the chair opposite his desk, one Heavy often occupied. "Please, sit. I'll go grab what few books I brought."
"I suppose someone will have to keep Mundy from humping everyone's leg. It may as well be his mate," Spy chuckled, taking the offered seat carefully, lowering himself awkwardly to be sure he wouldn't miss and fall into a heap.
Medic giggled at that, sweeping over to his bookshelf and plucking tomes off, cradling them in the crook of his arm. "Scout's explained to me at length how a faun's senses differ from a human's, and how easy it is to activate their expansion. It's a chain reaction and feedback loop for arousal all in one," he mused. With just four tomes in his grasp, he brought the stack over to the desk and sat them down, plopping himself into the rolling chair behind it. "And Scout's had almost a year and a half of experience to help him deal with how to function by this point. Sniper's back to day one, but without all of the confusion and feelings of violation Scout had at the time to hold him back."
"He's going to be an absolute terror," Spy agreed, reaching for one of the books and palming it in one long, spindly hand. He frowned at the sight, disquieted by his own proportions.
"Well, the good news is if we need to take a break and blow off some steam at any point, we know who to turn to!" Medic chirped.
Spy snorted at that. "I'm sure Demo will appreciate the reprieve."
*
Demoman clutched the mattress, his knuckles going pale under his grip. His voice came unrestrained and unmuffled, moans of soul-deep ecstasy emanating from seemingly everywhere at once as he shuddered on all fours, his cock hanging heavy and untouched beneath him. If he reached down to stroke himself he might crumple, barely hanging on for dear life under the strange assault of ethereal pleasure, the pure bliss of penetration but completely different as Sniper cupped his throat in one hand, and fucked the empty abyss at the centre of his neck with frenzied abandon.
The faun steadied himself with his other hand atop the bomber's back, his own moans animalistic as they spilled out over his lips in unbridled desperation borne from the blinding, all-consuming feeling of the void vibrating his overly keen cock. His hips bucked and jerked on pure instinct, chasing the pleasure of that eldritch buzzing, that mystical quivering that hummed through his flesh and drove him to madness.
He'd done this with Soldier before, fucked the void where his neck was, brought them both mutual pleasure through the strange stimulation of his arcane abyss. But here was something different, something more. It wasn't just that it was his husband, whose heavenly moans were like a choir of angels to his oversensitive ears, whose scent was enchanting in a way that made him fall in love over and over again and want to wrap himself in the man, whose body was strange and beautiful in undeath with dark, ashen skin cool to the touch. Sniper's new body, the senses granted him by his faun transformation, made the barest caress an explosion of pleasure, every thrust crackling electric bliss through every nerve and up his spine. His hands shook, his legs felt weak even as they kept him steady, kept flexing, kept his hips pumping over and over, chasing that mindblowing feeling deep into Demoman's neck.
Woolly hips slapped against the sensitive rim of flesh ringing the abyss, only urging the dullahan further along as his whole body trembled with fresh new sensations, overwhelmed and enraptured as much as his beloved husband, who began to softly bleat among his moans, shuddering with each thrust but unable to even consider slowing down, prolonging the magic.
Sniper needed to come, and Demoman needed to let him, both men lost in the act, in each other, in the overwhelming newness and intensity until at last Sniper tucked his cock and balls into the dullahan's neck and ground in deep, just humping at him as he threw his head back and bleated to the ceiling, his hips stuttering uncontrollably. His voice finally surged forth, loosed in a wordless wail as he came, every individual throb of his cock feeling like he was ejaculating his entire soul over and over into the inky void in his husband's neck, the vibrations of the otherworldly space dragging him clawing over the edge as he sent spurt after spurt of seed into the void. He was nearly screaming when he had to pull out, the sensation too much, his body too spent, and flopped backward onto the bed in a heap, gulping down air.
Demoman's arms gave out, his chest flopping to the bed, the rim of his neck oversensitive as it brushed the sheets. Dimly he realized he'd have to figure out how to get a liquid out of the abyss later. Right now, he would have been huffing and puffing if he'd needed to breathe air, his whole body trembling.
"Crikey," Sniper groaned, legs flopping open and shaking, his cock twitching as his erection flagged. His eyes barely focused as he stared blankly up at the ceiling, reeling and shivering with the aftershocks of his orgasm.
Demoman looked up at the prone faun, and would have smiled if he could. The man was beautiful, even in this different body. It suited him, if he were honest. Both the faun's nature and how bloody adorable those woolly legs were. He'd have to make sure to take him from the back before all was said and done so that he could play with his tail.
But for now, he'd have him like this. He needed him. He pulled himself back up onto his hands and knees and climbed atop his husband, wrapping himself around the other man. "Yer so bloody sexy," he hummed warmly, looking down at Sniper's loopy smile. "I wish I had lips tae kiss ye."
Sniper's smile softened sadly. "Me too," he replied gently, and pressed a kiss to the side of Demoman's neck. "Once we get this curse off, you can kiss me silly."
"I plan tae. And more after that."
Sniper chuckled fondly, wishing he could gaze into his husband's eye and scratch through his soft hair. "For now, you should fuck me."
"Aye, ye read me mind," Demoman replied, and Sniper could hear the grin in his voice. He reached for the night stand and fished out the lube. "Ye need fingers?"
"I couldn't wait for 'em even if I did. Please, Pup. I need you inside me."
Demoman didn't need to breathe, but that didn't stop him from somehow huffing out a horny little breath at that as he knelt up and squirted a healthy dollop of lube onto his cock. "Gods, I love ye."
"Love you too," Sniper sighed, lifting his hips and feeling his hole twitch as Demoman laid the head of his cock against it.
*
Scout stood at the edge of the base's roof, wishing they had a taller building he could jump off of. He also wished he'd paid more attention when Medic had explained how flying worked once he'd finally figured it out. Something about hollow bones and magic. It shouldn't be too hard, though. After all, Scout was more familiar with his own body and what it could do than anyone else on base, and that was before any fancy supernatural upgrades. He just had to listen to his body and he'd figure it out, no problem!
He spread his wings, still a little stiffer than he'd like, trying to figure out the motions for spreading his primaries the right way. It was like an arm, with a weird wrist and weird clumped-together fingers. But then moving feathers themselves was kind of like a shiver, but on purpose. He took a deep breath and tested things with a few experimental flaps. That motion did feel good, like jogging in place before a sprint, so he had to be on the right track. He had to just stay out of his own head about it and let the wings take over.
With a few more flaps, he lifted one taloned foot, and went to step over the ledge.
"FUCKIN' ACE!"
Scout squawked, startled by the sudden Australian outburst from below, and before he realized it he was falling. He flapped his wings frantically, briefly stalling his descent before gradually flopping to the ground in a heap of feathers.
Stupid Sniper. He was happy for his friend getting to experience getting railed as a faun—frankly everybody who fucked should get to experience that at least once. But he'd be lying if he'd said he wasn't jealous. Sure it was fun giving him a handy this morning, but it was also a little unsettling, the more he thought about it.
Normally even being aware of someone else being aroused in his vicinity was enough for his senses to expand, to smell their pheromones, to get his own motor running. Stroking him to completion should have been a luxuriant experience for Scout, every little moan and hitch of breath like a song, every shiver and shudder like a caress, his friend's orgasm in his hand a bolt of arousal striking through him. Instead, it was just a handy.
Sure, it was hot. And making Sniper lick his own come off his hand was just fucking sexy. He loved being made to do that, too. But it wasn't something so integral to his existence anymore, and Scout found he really missed it, now that it had been such a part of him for so long.
He climbed to his taloned feet, brushing himself off and trying to ignore the incredibly loud wails of Sniper clearly being fucked rotten on the other side of the base's thin walls. He ruffled his feathers and stalked away, onto the field. He hoped this curse wasn't permanent. Wings were neat and all, but shit, he'd finally gotten comfortable in the new body that was thrust upon him, made it his own and made his home in it. And now, again, someone was telling him what he got to be, taking his body away from him for something new.
He hated it. He liked being a faun. He didn't get to choose it, but he came to own it, and enjoy it, and now he was something else again, and frankly it was bullshit.
He wanted to beat Merasmus' stupid face in. Asshole had to punish the whole team because he had beef with Soldier. And on top of that, he couldn't just settle his shit with Soldier like a fucking adult. He had to go throwing curses around instead of just fist fighting the guy like a normal person. Or maybe he could've just thrown Soldier's stuff out on the lawn with the man himself when he kicked him out, and all of that petty shit would've been avoided.
Was it probably a stupid idea for Soldier to prank him like that? Sure. Was it justified? Probably. Was it hilarious? Absolutely.
Scout chuckled. Soldier was a complete wildman, but the guy was fucking hilarious. Scout liked a guy who could make him laugh. Hell, it was why he fell in love with all of his coworkers. They all make him laugh. And smile. And feel seen, wanted, and loved. Ugh, he was such a fucking sap, but thinking about it, it was nice to know that it wasn't just the whole faun thing that made him that way. It probably just gave him the extra push he needed to say something about it.
As he reached the open field, rounding the farmhouse, he stopped and did a few stretches, making sure his legs and back were nice and limber. Thinking of it, he did the same for his wings, giving them roughly the same stretching regimen he would give his arms. He figured they were basically just specialized arms, so it made sense in his mind.
Sure, he could jump up somewhere high and try to figure shit out from there like Medic had kept trying to do before he finally just nutted up and came to terms with the fact that magic was part of the whole flight equation for garuda. But Scout had something Medic didn't when it came to these things: Speed.
He looked out over the long dusty expanse of the battlefield parallel to the farmhouse.
Speed, and a runway.
Scout backed up to the wooden perimeter fence, just past his team's shed and crouched down in a racing start, ready to leap off the line. He took a few deep breaths to get his blood pumping, and closed his eyes. He could still feel it; the magic around him. It felt a little different now, but it was there, the cobwebs of energy that filled the spaces of reality. He opened his eyes and squeezed the muscles of his face, bunching up his nose as he concentrated. It took a bit of scrunching and scrunging to figure out, but eventually his nictitating membranes blinked closed over his eyes. Okay, so that was how that worked.
One more deep breath, and Scout took off at a sprint. He held his wings out wide, angling them like the wings of a plane to slice through the air as he ran, his talons digging into the dust and propelling him forward. He could feel the slight lift of the air under his feathers, and began to flap. They wouldn't be able to lift him on their own, even if he was lighter and smaller than Medic. The Doctor had said so, and the man knew his shit about birds and flying. So as Scout flapped, he concentrated on those cobwebs of magic, feeling them tangle on his primaries and creep upward, pushing air away harder with each flap, making him cut through the wind like a knife as his steps grew faster, lighter, easier. He rounded the porch, banking around the shack with the control point in it, and saw a flash of red. He grinned and leapt, talons barely alighting upon the perimeter fence as he forced a second jump, surging into the air higher than he ever had before.
He flapped his wings, and kept flapping, and felt the magic clinging to him all the closer. It didn't hold him back, didn't tangle him up, collecting on him like morning mist. It tingled at his fingers as he fanned them out then curled them inward, gathering the energy into himself and feeling his body thrum with its power, feeling it make him lighter, make the air part for him, make it grip his wings on each downstroke. It reminded him of swimming, how the water felt being pushed aside with a butterfly stroke, dragged away so that he could glide forward. He caught the breeze, rising higher, higher, each beat of his wings pulling him up into the sky as the sun warmed his skin.
He climbed until he was at least thrice as high as the farmhouses, the buildings below looking so tiny in comparison. He looked to the RED house where he saw their Sniper craning out the window, mouth agape. The red thing he'd seen must have been his rifle's laser dot. Couldn't blame the guy, really. They'd said they'd be on the battlefield that night, but it had been made pretty clear they wouldn't come closer than their farmhouse porch. He was breaking the rules a little.
Scout stayed there, hovering in place as he flapped his wings to keep the magic flowing. If Medic were to explain it he'd call the movements of his wings as much a somatic component of the magic being used as actual physical exertion for lift. He'd figured all of that out last summer. But for Scout, the technical stuff didn't really matter. What mattered was what it could do, and right now, he was a good eighty-ish feet in the air, looking down at the battlefield below in wonder.
And he'd gotten it in one! Medic would be so pissed if he told him.
Scout grinned. Better really show off about it, then. He leaned back and folded his wings against himself, his feet soon flipping above his head as he shot out of the air and dove headfirst for the ground. The wind stung his face, making him grateful for those extra eyelids, and as gravity started thinking it had won the game, the earth hurtling up at him and making his stomach clench up tight, he spread his wings and angled them just right to curve into a u-shape and pull up a good ten feet from the ground. A cloud of dust kicked up in his wake as he streaked skyward and arced back down in a loop before casually fluttering over to the roof of the farmhouse and landing at its peak, talons gripping into the old shingles.
"Fancy flyin'! I thought your doc was the birdman!" RED Sniper hollered from his window, squinting with confusion.
"Long story!" Scout called back with a laugh. "I'm rockin' the wings today! Don't worry though, I ain't tryin' to fuck with the ceasefire!"
RED Sniper scoffed at that. "Fair dinkum? Quit fuckin' around in no-man's land then, mate! I don't work off the clock, but the others might not be so charitable."
Scout flashed him a thumbs up. "Sure! Thanks, brother!"
RED Sniper waved him off with a, "No worries," lighting a cigarette as he disappeared back into the building, leaving Scout to hop off of the roof with a flap of his wings and resume his aerial acrobatics.
*
Soldier's nose pressed against the window of the quarters furthest from Spy's on the top floor. The sheer amount of nested couples on base afforded the mercenaries a trio of spare rooms to use for storage and projects, and this one had been converted into an arts and crafts room for Pyro to occupy himself when he wanted some quiet time.
The firebug had taken up the mantle of preparing decorations for the upcoming Halloween party, especially once he'd realized it was going to be on a Saturday, so they didn't have to worry about work getting in the way of the festivities. He'd been determined to go all out, since with the cramped spaces, they'd need some extra holiday cheer to blow off some extra steam. The battlefield itself had already been speckled with jack o'lanterns, gauze ghosts, and wooden tombstones over the past week, the firebug eager to build the excitement over time, but his decorations for the party itself weren't so hardy against the elements. Which was what led Heavy and Soldier to the room, where the newly-minted cyborg found himself digging out Pyro's boxes marked, "Halloween! - Finished" from among the stacks of supplies and other projects piled around the room.
He didn't seem to have any method of organizing things that Heavy could understand, but he appreciated that Pyro had at least put everything he'd needed in marked containers, unlike previous years. What he minded a bit was how little Soldier was helping with it all, the djinni's unmasked face glued to the window.
"He's doing it, Heavy! He's flying!" Soldier reported excitedly, forgetting his own malaise for a moment as he watched his boyfriend spiraling through the blue sky with a grin. He opened the window and shoved half of his body out of it, bracing himself against the exterior wall as he hollered to his avian lover, "Do a barrel roll!"
"Soldier stop yelling," Heavy chastised, rolling his eyes as a silent 'I told you so' as Soldier recoiled into the room, clutching his head as his own voice proved too much to bear.
Soldier slumped against the wall and yanked Pyro's gasmask back down over his head, cradling it in his hands in misery. "That was too much," he muttered, hands losing definition and burning their way back into mitten-shapes.
Heavy frowned. The light, the noise, not being able to keep his eyes on one layer of reality; it must be overwhelming to poor Soldier right now. With a sigh he sat down the boxes he was sorting and walked over, leaning down to take a look out the window and see Scout finishing a barrel roll and transitioning into a series of banking corkscrews. He was a natural, impressively so. He decided he wouldn't mention that to Medic. He closed the window gently and settled down on the floor beside Soldier, leaning against the wall with him. "You do not need to do this," he said plainly. "Can get decorations and make Scout help. You should go to bed."
"I will not abandon my men," Soldier grunted, staring at a fixed point on the floor, trying not to move too much. He shrugged his blankets tighter around himself, flames licking out of the seams a bit.
"You do not abandon men," Heavy replied with a shake of his head. "Today is day off. You can rest."
"I refuse to let peacetime let me get sloppy."
"Cannot do anything when you are so..." Heavy paused, trying to think of the right words in English, "so excited."
"Excited?"
"Not right word. When everything is too much," he tried to explain, pointing to the fire peeking out of Soldier's shroud of sheets.
"If Pyro can handle it, I can handle it."
"Pyro has been alive since before humans were people," Heavy hummed skeptically. "Should have stayed here to help teach you. But he leave for town, so you need to take care of self."
"I am not about to spend all day cooped up in my room feeling like crap when I can at least try and make myself useful feeling like crap," Soldier argued, throwing off his blankets in a rage and climbing to his feet. He stomped in front of Heavy—the giant noticing for the first time that the blankets and mask were all Soldier was wearing—and leaned over him, trying to intimidate the implacable Russian. "I am not a quitter!"
"Then you keep trying to control self?"
"I haven't stopped trying, maggot! And I will master this, just as I have mastered the arts of both love and war, like Sun Tzu himself!"
"Love?" Heavy chuckled incredulously, not quite realizing the challenge he was issuing.
Soldier ripped the gasmask back off. "You bet your ass! I'll show you!"
Heavy's eyes widened in surprise as Soldier climbed into his lap, grabbed his face between both burning hands, and kissed him. Flames, warm and pleasurable, spread over Heavy's legs and out around his hips, up his belly and teased at his chest. His face grew warm as flames moved out from his lips over his cheeks and chin. It felt like a gentle caress of loving hands. Soldier forced his tongue into his mouth to wrestle the giant's, a growl welling in his throat as Heavy conceded and kissed back, his hands settling on Soldier's somewhat amorphous hips. A soft moan rose in his throat as Soldier's arms slipped around his shoulders, the djinni's feverish warmth soaking into him. Every part of him felt more alive than mere skin could convey, the constant motion of crackling flames beneath his fingertips, against his lips, inside his mouth. As Soldier began to harden against him, and he felt himself responding in turn, Heavy heaved a breath through his nostrils and pulled away.
"Wait."
Soldier looked startled, glowing yellow eyes snapping open in surprise. His face's features were blurry, not quite accurate to Soldier's appearance, but they seemed sharper, clearer than before. "Why?"
"You are sure? With your..." Heavy gestured to all of Soldier, as if his point made itself.
With a grin, Soldier leaned in, bringing himself nose-to-nose with the giant. "Let me focus on one thing for a while," he said, rocking his hardening cock against Heavy's, making the other man's breath catch.
That was one way to stay grounded, Heavy supposed. A short nod answered him, his grip on the djinni's hips tightening. "This is fine. But if it become too much? You stop."
"Affirmative," Soldier growled. He knelt up to reach for Heavy's fly, immediately distracted as his knee against the man's thigh activated something. He flopped to the side, flames spreading in a small pool across the floor beneath him, both men watching as Heavy's trouser leg bulged out on that side with a mechanical sound.
"What?" Heavy mumbled, pressing the spot back in. He used the opportunity to open his fly and shimmy his trousers off, kicking them and his boots away to inspect his leg more closely.
His thighs ended shortly after they started, maybe an inch below his groin, where a seam ran the circumference of each limb, giving way to metal shod in silicone and artificial hair. Small seams lined the sides here and there, evidence of compartments within that were hard to detect from a distance. He pressed down on the spot that had expanded, only for it to pop back out, opening with a soft mechanical whine to reveal a small pocket containing a plastic squeeze bottle. Heavy pulled it out and pressed the compartment closed, only to heft out a laugh upon reading the bottle's label.
"What's that?" Soldier asked, peering owlishly at the bottle held in Heavy's mechanical hand.
"Lubricant," Heavy chuckled, shaking his head. "Engineer, he think of everything."
"A true boy scout. Always prepared," Soldier said, an excited grin crossing his fiery teeth. He plucked the bottle from Heavy's hand as the giant tugged his shirt over his head and tossed it aside.
Soldier climbed back into Heavy's lap, settling in comfortably with his cock resting against the giant's. Heavy's breath caught a bit at the contact, the heat pouring off of his erection startling, and the subtle tingle of motion a brand new sort of sensation. His only sexual experience with Pyro was when the djinni was almost fully amorphous, spreading over his whole body as he fucked Sniper, and the same when the team had gangbanged Scout. It had been something strange and wonderful, every nerve lighting up in a comforting, blissful sort of pleasure that grew more intense over time. This was more focused, more direct, and he couldn't help but wonder if this was more comparable to what Engineer experienced with Pyro day-to-day.
From the way he talked, however, his darling firefly always had trouble holding his shape during sex. Meanwhile, Soldier seemed to be growing slowly more solid, more defined with every kiss and touch. He was gaining focus rather than losing it.
If it meant Heavy was helping his friend by doing this, well then he could excuse taking time from his task to fuck around a little. Or at least that was going to be his excuse if anyone gave him grief about taking too long to get the decorations. After all, taking care of his team was more important.
Heavy's eyes raked over Soldier's fiery body as he knelt astride his thighs, thick and muscular and broad and burning in increasingly hotter hues of yellow and blue. Yes. He had to take care of this man.
Soldier wrapped one hand around their lengths, popping the bottle's cap and pouring a frankly excessive amount of the lubricant over them and his hand, stroking a bit to make sure it spread around nice and slippery.
Heavy groaned a little as Soldier settled in and got comfortable, watching as he held their cocks together. Soldier's length burned in whites and blues, hot and hard and making it hard to wait for him to get ready. Every touch felt heightened, like it was always in motion, and it was stealing his remaining will to be careful with the overstimulated djinni. "Ready now?" he asked, impatient.
Soldier tossed the mostly-empty bottle aside and adjusted his position astride Heavy's lap, then locked eyes with his teammate. His facial features stood out in stark relief, Soldier's face perfectly cast in fire and flames. "I am ready," he announced, and wrapped his free arm around Heavy's neck, tugging him in to kiss again.
Heavy moaned into his mouth, his hands sliding to Soldier's ass to grip it tightly and urge him to motion, their tongues tangling as the djinni began rolling his hips, fucking into his hand and against Heavy's cock. Gradually, Heavy could feel Soldier's mitten-like hands beginning to take shape, fingers emerging from the amorphous flames.
Their soft grunts of effort and pleasure filled the small room, the squish of lubricant in Soldier's hand as their cocks slid together sounding almost excessively lewd alongside them. Hot throbs of pleasure coursed through Heavy, the sheer heat of Soldier's body against his only heightening the blissful slide, making him hyperaware of the texture of the djinni's cockhead as it slipped against his own, the wriggling of burning flames sensitizing him in ways that swiftly drove thoughts of anything but desire from his mind.
Soldier felt so good, so warm, so strong, his ass flexing as he fucked against Heavy's cock into his hand. He only broke their kiss to dive back in for more, insistent in tasting Heavy, in mashing their lips together and drinking down his moans, in caressing his tongue with his own like he caressed his cock the same. He was focused and intense, no playfulness, no teasing. He was chasing his and Heavy's pleasure with determination, fingers curling into the muscle of the giant's hairy shoulder and gripping him for better purchase.
He pressed bodily against Heavy, chest to chest and belly to belly, feeling the soft rasp of his body hair against his flaming flesh. His hand around them went still, entirely just holding them together as he fucked against Heavy, sparks of pleasure rapidly building into an inferno inside of him. The giant's grip on his ass tightened, and he could feel Heavy tugging him in over and over, urging his hips to move faster, more. It hurt a little on one side—probably The Gunslinger, its metal fingers having no give—but it was a good hurt. It was a hurt that gave Soldier focus, that urged him even more, that had him bucking hungrily against the giant's cock in his hand, moaning into his mouth with abandon now.
Soldier was coming undone, but he was more solid than he'd been all day. Heavy cracked his eyes open to see the man was perfectly composed as far as his flaming form went. He was clearly unraveling in other ways however, eyes closed with a soft yellow glow where his eyelids met, his brow furrowed with effort, his breaths puffing erratically through his nose. He was getting close, and Heavy was joining him, pressure pooling in his balls and his grip almost cruelly strong on the djinni's muscular ass.
He was moving Soldier as much as Soldier was moving himself, the man's thighs flexing for all they were worth as he rutted into his grasp, chasing the edge, his tongue falling back into his own mouth as he started moaning uselessly against Heavy's lips, his mouth open around his own pleasure. Heavy was much the same, and broke their kiss to catch his breath, his head falling back against the wall as he grimaced in bliss. Soldier tucked his face into the crook of Heavy's neck, panting against his skin.
"Close," Heavy hissed.
"We will come as a team," Soldier declared, the order undercut a bit by how breathless he sounded. Heavy couldn't help but find it cute.
"Come with me," the giant agreed.
It didn't take much more to accomplish that, both men curling in on one another as they came, messing their bellies and Soldier's hand as they groaned their release, clutching one another close. A snap of pressure buffeted the giant back against the wall as a wave of warmth washed over Heavy. He opened his eyes to see blue-hot flames ripple up over him and up the walls, out across the floor around them, and streaking across nearly every surface in the room as Soldier shuddered in the throes of an explosive orgasm, items knocked from the table nearby. Heavy's head fell back to the wall as the heat passed harmlessly over him, and they clung to one another in the aftermath, panting.
Wait. Something smelled funny.
Heavy sniffed and realized it smelled like smoke. Startled, he looked over Soldier's shoulder to see that while the warm flames of the djinni's orgasm had faded, actual flames had caught on a few of the boxes and craft supplies around the room. With a gasp, the giant shoved Soldier off of his lap into a heap and crawled wobbily over to begin slapping out the small fires before they grew into larger ones.
"What happened?" Soldier asked, untangling himself from himself and sitting up.
"Fire!" Heavy barked in response, on all fours as he finished whacking a cardboard box to extinguish it. He let out a heavy breath of relief, looking around to be sure nothing else was burning.
Soldier simply stared at Heavy on all fours, his small fluffy ass in the air, and grinned. What a view. Medic and Scout were lucky guys. "I think I exploded a little when I came," he said, scratching at the base of one of his horns. "Has Pyro ever done that?"
"Do not know," Heavy replied, looking back at Soldier watching him, a grin crossing his face. It was flattering to be ogled like that. "Have had sex with him twice, one time with Sniper, and one time when we all fuck Scout together. Did not burn things then."
Soldier frowned thoughtfully.
"Also spread out, lose focus" Heavy added, sitting up on his knees. "You do it the other way."
Looking down at himself, Soldier extended his legs, spreading and wiggling his toes. "Huh," he grunted in surprise, having not quite realized his attention being pulled in such a singular direction had given him stability of shape. Even so, he could slowly feel the motion of his own body beginning to bother him as the haze of orgasm faded, and he knew this level of detail in his form wouldn't last.
Heavy smiled a little, glad that for the moment, Soldier got to know a reprieve from the overstimulation plaguing him. Sluggishly, he climbed to his feet and cast about for something to clean up with. He snatched up a panel of felt and resigned it to the trash bin as he scrubbed off his belly and cock.
Soldier shifted uncomfortably, one of his ass cheeks smarting as he sat on it, and reluctantly pulled himself off of the floor, rubbing the offending body part with a grumble. "You got me good."
"Got you?" Heavy asked, handing over the felt for Soldier to clean up with.
"That Gunslinger's got an iron grip, private. Put a dent in my ass. Well, five dents." Soldier rubbed at the bruise—or whatever accounted for one with his new anatomy—pointedly as he turned to show Heavy.
Sure enough, as Soldier's flames cooled to a constantly shifting dance of reds, oranges, and yellows, dark marks burned almost maroon in five fingertip shapes showing Heavy's grasp on his ass cheek. Heavy couldn't help but snort at how stark it was, holding back a snicker as he looked down at The Gunslinger a bit sheepishly. He'd forgotten all about the mechanical hand in the throes of passion. He'd have to be more careful when grabbing people. Not everyone was as sturdy as Soldier. "Oh."
"How's it look?" Soldier asked, craning to try and see his own butt and failing.
"Is handprint. Or, fingerprints."
Soldier grinned. That sounded pretty hot. "Good job, private."
Heavy barked a laugh at that. "Come, we get party supplies before you burn them down."
*
Engineer's pickup truck sped down the remote roads of the badlands, tires rumbling over unpaved dirt and gravel. Pyro drummed on the steering wheel, singing along to the music on the radio while Engineer himself laid across the bench seat, his tails lashing in annoyance of his current predicament.
"I just don't get why you want me comin' along," Engineer grumbled, laying his head between his paws.
Pyro reached over and turned down the radio, casting his unfortunate lover a sympathetic look out of the corner of his eye. "I didn't wanna do this alone, and the only other person who looks normal and is comfortable enough to get around in public right now is Medic, who needs to do that research."
"I don't fall into the list o' people lookin' particularly normal either," Engineer countered. "I'm a damn animal."
"You're always an animal," Pyro corrected.
"A wild animal," Engineer huffed.
Pyro laughed. "Okay fair, you're usually only a wild animal in bed."
Engineer groaned and rolled onto his side. The joke was terrible, if flattering, but he was not in the mood to enjoy it. Especially since if he didn't stop being a cute little woodland creature he was probably not getting laid again. Except maybe by that freak Sniper. He only cared about sapience and consent, not form factor.
He didn't like the thought of figuring out those logistics.
Pyro noticed how much Engineer's fur had puffed up in distress and reached a hand over to pet him, smoothing it down a little. "Relax, we'll get this figured out, Babybear. I know we will. And I'm sure once we have some time Spy can help you figure out all this shapeshifting business." He frowned. "I wish I could be more help. Djinn are supposed to be good at that stuff too, but not me."
"Djinn shapeshift?" Engineer asked, his ears pricking up.
"Yeah, a lot of us are really talented there, turning into animals especially. Some can even make themselves look like humans, but there's usually some touch of other animal like a snake or something. Some scales in places, the slit pupils, the forked tongue, something."
"And that ain't your expertise?"
"No, I've never been good at it. Like I've said before, transmutations tend to just kinda slide off of me, no matter who casts it. Thing is, there are a bunch of tribes of djinn, and even though there's a lot that are the same, like how we're made of smokeless fire, how we're innately magical, that kind of stuff, there are different strengths of each group. My people were more about art and poetry and stuff. We saw the different layers of reality easiest, and created beauty with our magic. When humans came along and we lived alongside them, we tended to be the ones interacting on more equal terms with them. Helping inspire them, creating art together, intermarrying."
"Sounds like you," Engineer chuckled. "You sure inspire me, after all."
Pyro smiled brightly at that. "I love you so much," he hummed, scratching behind Engineer's ears.
Engineer sighed contentedly, "Love you too, Firefly. But you really think Spy can help me figure this out? I ain't exactly magically-inclined. I suppose physically I am, now, but I ain't never had to think in that paradigm, y'understand."
"I think so. Once he has time, I'm sure he can get you there. And we'll have you looking like your old self again. Except maybe with some cute tails. Spy says they're hard to hide."
"You'd like that too much. All the cuddly Dell with fluffy tails to boot."
Pyro made a soft little sound, imagining it. "You're not wrong."
Engineer chuckled at that. "Well I hope you're right. I'm fit to go crazy, stuck on all fours. It ain't exactly a familiar way to locomote. Which reminds me: are you plannin' to just leave me in the car while you're at the store?"
"Absolutely not, I wouldn't do that to you!" Pyro replied, faking scandal. "I brought a big purse for you to ride in."
"Pyro."
"Ye~es?" Pyro replied, sing-songy, an impish grin creeping across his face.
Engineer sighed. He could already tell he wasn't getting out of this.
The team's monstrous meins have been swapped! They assemble to try and figure out what's going on and what they can do without it, but looking around they notice something concerning: two of them appear to be humans, but they KNOW that only one of them is. And they won't find out until the moon is high in the sky.
Ao3 Link!
Part of Monstrous Intent!
Writing Soldier's freakout was SO FUN y'all. Also the porn starts here lmao.
(Within Monstrous Intent BLU Spy and BLU Scout are not related in any way. They are in fact different species.)
---------
It had been quite some time since news of a monster on BLU team was cause for intrigue, each of the mercenaries having long since become comfortable in their own skins and with the natures of one another, living openly together as the supernatural creatures they were. Even so, the act of walking into the base's combination meeting room/recreation room filled each mercenary with a bit of stage fright, once again something for others to gawk at.
Slowly, they filed into the room: Heavy moving stiffly on mechanical legs, flexing The Gunslinger idly. Medic, looking like his old self with shiny boots and hairy forearms, taking a seat and leaning forward from its back out of habit. Scout, trying to remind himself not to grip the floor with each step, grabbing a chair and spinning it around to sit on it backward and folding his keratinous arms over its back, leaning his chin atop them. Sniper, wearing a shirt and one of his husband's kilts, holding onto Demoman's arm as he carefully tried to adjust to his new tip-toe gait, eyes sweeping over the other men in the room in a mix of wonder and desire in seeing their new configurations. Demoman himself was cold and headless, his old, quickly-rotting head stashed in the infirmary fridge for the time being. Pyro shuffled in, feeling antsy and uncomfortable, holding Engineer like a teddy bear. His paws dangled over the former djinni's crossed arms, his three tails lashing about idly as he tried to grow used to the sensation. He wore his goggles, the straps adjusted to fit his tiny fox face, so that he at least felt a little more like himself. Pyro set him down on the table as he took his seat. Spy knelt at the blackboard that was mounted on one wall of the room, a bed sheet tied around his waist to provide him a bit of modesty, seeing as his own clothing wouldn't quite serve the purpose any longer.
Spy regarded Pyro for a long moment. "Good to see I was almost perfectly accurate with how I fashioned my human illusion of you at the gala," he hummed smugly, feeling rather chuffed at how close he'd gotten it.
Pyro grinned and tossed his hair over his shoulder in reply, making Spy's smirk soften into a smile. "Where's Soldier?" the former djinni asked, looking around at the assembled mercenaries.
"Still in 'is room," Scout answered distractedly, trying to figure out how his wings moved. He stretched them back, one smacking Sniper in the face.
"Oi, watch it!" Sniper sputtered, batting away the offending limb, noticing how soft his feathers were to the touch. He laid his hand at the wrist joint and caressed him there, feeling the shape of the runner's new limb and the way the feathers gave just so under the pressure. Suddenly, he could smell every man in the room. The smoke lingering on Spy even before he lit a fresh cigarette. The oil of The Gunslinger. Each man's own personal scent, the sweat gathered at their temples in the stress and the dread, the dried lubricant and semen on those who had lain with their partners the night before. Engineer smelled like fox, albeit faintly just yet, and Pyro had never had to brush his teeth before, and clearly had yet to realize.
Sniper could feel every fiber of every feather under his fingertips, the way the fabric covering his chair gave under his weight. The soft air currents in the room and how the slightest cool breeze seemed to pour in through the poorly-insulated windows. His shirt felt soft against his skin, but confining. He wanted to take it off. He wanted to take Scout's clothes off. He wanted to take Demoman's clothes off. He wanted to rip Spy's sheet from around his hips. He wanted to be thrown over the meeting table and stretched out and opened up and filled. He wanted to be their lover, all of them. He wanted to suck Medic's cock, to taste Heavy's come, he wanted them to rub their beautiful bodies all over his and to drink in their moans of ecstasy and fuck him senseless until he was paralyzed with pure, unyielding bliss.
"Mundy!" Spy barked at the faun, snapping him out of his reverie. "Were you listening?"
"I—" Sniper jawed at the air for a long moment. No, no he had in fact not been listening at all. Was it always so warm in this room? Was it always so hot? Was everyone always so hot? "No, sorry. I just. Scout, mate, how do you 'andle all this input?"
"Input?" Scout blinked, confused. His eyes flicked down to the raging erection tenting the bushman's kilt. "Ha, already? Man all you did was touch my wing! Guess bein' so horny for monsters's gotta make it even harder, huh?"
"Yeh yeh, laugh it up," Sniper grumbled.
"It's a lot, though, for sure. You're gonna be like that 'til you calm down or get off, one or the other. Otherwise it's just all the senses all the time," Scout explained with a grin. "Want a handy?"
Sniper did not appreciate how much his voice cracked as he replied with a weak, "Please."
Spy made a sound of disgust but didn't protest as his lover lifted Sniper's kilt away and began to stroke him. "Can we please get back to the matter at hand?" he asked, writing a list of every mercenary's class, and a list of every mercenary's monstrous identity on the board. He drew a line from Scout to Garuda, and from Sniper to Faun.
"Matter... at hand," Sniper moaned out, slouching back against his chair, rocking helplessly into Scout's hand. This was not helping. He was lost, drowning, pleasure coursing through him from the tips of his horns to the bottoms of his hooves, washing back and forth like the tides with every pass of Scout's calloused hand. He could feel every single texture of his bat-roughened skin prickling pure sensation through his dick and across his whole nervous system in a ripple of pure, frenzied, physical noise. His mouth fell open, his eyes fell closed, and he could smell the arousal of every man in the room as they watched him lose himself under the assault of just Scout's bare hand and nothing more. His breath came in shudders, his legs shaking, and it seemed like forever, it seemed like no time at all before he clenched his teeth and bucked into Scout's grasp, coming with a ragged, pathetic groan.
"There you go," Scout soothed with a laugh. He pulled away and made to clean himself up, but thought better, instead offering his hand to Sniper. The nascent faun fairly shot forward, grasping him by the wrist and laving his tongue over every part of the new garuda's pinkish-grey hand until it was fully cleaned of his seed and bathed in his spit, luxuriating in the scaled texture of his keratinous skin.
"Cripe," Demoman cursed softly, adjusting his trousers. He noticed Heavy, Medic, and Pyro shifting similarly. Engineer curled his tails around himself. Spy turned back to the board, clearing his throat. "Mickey, yer dangerous."
Sniper flopped back against his chair, panting, grinning. Just as Scout had said, the sensory overload began to recede, making him grateful but also a little awed at how Scout put up with this on the daily.
"Are you quite finished, now?" Spy asked snippily, not turning back, not willing to give Sniper the satisfaction in noticing the tent in his bed sheet. He drew a line from Demoman to Dullahan.
"Yeh," Sniper chuckled. "Aces."
"So, as I was saying," Spy huffed, "if Soldier misses the meeting, someone should be sure to apprise him of the situation."
"Someone should go get him so we don't have to waste our time repeating things," Medic hummed idly, Heavy's arm in his lap, poking at the spot where The Gunslinger attached to the giant's arm.
"Why nae ye?" Demoman asked, his neck craning a bit pointlessly as he tried to figure out what Medic was doing.
"I'm studying Heavy," Medic replied dismissively. "Engineer's nonhuman nature is entirely the result of mechanical modifications, essentially extremely advanced prosthetics. The fact that this curse not only considered that enough to transfer, but that it also adapted their size to fit Heavy's bodily dimensions is fascinating on a number of levels."
"I mean, they ain't regular prosthetics, Doc," Engineer replied, raising his leg to scratch at his ear but realizing how silly it made him feel and stopped. Pyro seemed to clock the movement and scratched for him, making him sigh a little and mumble a thanks. "Ain't just like a metal or plastic leg or an orthotic brace or nothin'. That's complex machinery, with a bit o' magical oomph thanks to the Australium in 'em."
"Very true! And very fascinating!" Medic hissed with delight, laying a hand on Heavy's thigh and feeling for the seam where the prosthetic ended and Heavy's flesh began, making him blush.
"Doktor..." Heavy warned, a little flustered.
Spy shook his head and drew a line between Heavy and Cyborg.
"Doc, don't you go fuckin' around with that machinery," Engineer warned, ears tilting back against his head. "That's expensive stuff there, 'n it's my life's work. You know that."
"Oh don't worry, Engie. I don't intend to tamper with your designs. You know I respect your labour and our shared work together too much for that. Though I do need to know if you ever installed that vibration function that I recommended for The Gunslinger," Medic tittered with a grin.
Engineer's ears flattened against his head and his fur puffed up in a mixture of outrage and annoyance. "Will you behave, you ol' whore?!"
A snicker creaked out of Medic at the sight of the fluffed up ball of fur standing on the table, all three tails lifted to make himself look as big as possible. He knew he'd get mauled if he outright laughed, but how could he not? The threat display was simply adorable. He pursed his lips, nodding as he held back a torrent of giggles, before turning away and covering his mouth so as to not outright laugh in the fox's face.
Engineer wilted, cursing softly as he laid down on the table and curled his tails around himself sullenly. Pyro's hand on his back with nails scritching through his fur helped soothe him a little. But only a little.
"So wait, how come the big guy gets to stay big, even though you're all jotun-ey?" Scout asked, gesturing between Heavy and Spy.
"Heavy's human family is not exactly petite," Spy observed coolly, drawing a line between his title and Jotun. "If it weren't for the mechanical legs, he'd be feeling the stress of all that size on his knees, like most humans that large do."
"So Misha's just big by nature, not just 'cause 'e's a jotun?"
"Am giant man," Heavy chuckled. "Not just frost giant man."
"It seems so," Spy confirmed. "Though it seems the way the bloodline manifests for me is through sheer height and cosmetic changes, not necessarily any broadness."
"All the length, none 'a the girth," Scout chuckled. "Not that I'm complainin'," he added, for good measure.
"Yes. Thank you," Spy sighed, rolling his eyes.
"An' Engie got all the foxiness."
A small, whiny vulpine noise rose in Engineer's throat, but he tamped it down before he could make more of a joke out of himself. He huffed. "Seems like."
"But you should be able to shapeshift, right?" Scout asked, leaning into Engineer's space and tempting the Texan to bite his nose about it. "So how come you're still all cute an' fluffy?"
Oh, how Engineer hated the three words about to leave his mouth. "I don't know." He huffed. "And dammit, I ain't cute 'n fluffy!"
"Delly, you're incredibly cute and fluffy," Pyro corrected gently, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of his fuzzy little head. Petting Engineer was the only thing keeping him in his own skin, it felt like. Everything felt so cloying, so oppressive, so dull and lifeless and at the same time it had him him tense, anxious, the muffled sensory input and stillness from every surface making him feel fit to go mad. The soft fur between his fingers, under his nails, helped ground him so that he didn't start grinding his teeth. Idly, he realized he'd been bouncing both of his legs the whole time, much like Scout was doing with one taloned foot.
"Dammit," Engineer repeated with a grumble. "How do I fix this, Spy?"
"It requires some use of magic," Spy admitted, a bit reticent to deliver further bad news. He drew a line between Engineer and Kitsune. "It's not full spellcasting, but you do need to apply ambient magic correctly to spark the change."
"And how the hell do I do that? Magic don't come easy like it does to y'all."
Scout's wings fluffed up as he leaned back, jerking a thumb at himself with a grin. "It ain't hard."
Engineer rolled his eyes.
"You just—okay, so imagine you're in an old haunted house or somethin'. An' there's cobwebs everywhere. Now imagine reachin' out to the cobwebs, an' when you got 'em on your hands, you can make 'em do stuff! Like hide your antlers in public, or prep for anal."
Engineer stared with narrowed eyes at the former faun, who gestured broadly, like he'd explained everything. He laid down on the table and placed his paws over his face, pointedly ignoring Pyro cooing about it. "This is hopeless."
"Engineer is a man of science," Medic chastised, gently bopping Scout on the shoulder. He turned to his vulpine companion, "Magic is more like... quantum physics."
That got an even bigger sigh of of the scientist. "So nobody can agree on what it is 'n it don't exist in a definite state until it's measured 'n the act of observin' it affects what's bein' observed? Doc, you're killin' me. People can't even agree on whether wavefunction even affects physical reality!"
"I mean, it does, but you have to manipulate it first! Utilizing precise patterns and materials to collapse waveforms into what you need them to be, including your very own will!" Medic explained, clenching his fist confidently.
Engineer looked up to Pyro pleadingly.
"You just sort of... feel it, and make it?" Pyro said, sheepishly.
Engineer sank back to the table and put his paws over his face again, defeated.
Trying to direct attention away from the poor frustrated fox, Heavy turned to Demoman. "You are okay, Demo?"
"As much as I can be," Demoman admitted, scratching at the back of his neck, feeling a chill when he reached the edge and there was no back of his head to move up to. Instead he touched the edge, sending a different sort of chill through him that he found a bit disconcerting. "Woke up tae me heid layin' dead on me pillow, so, ye ken, nae a great way tae start the day."
Heavy chuckled at that.
"I cannae tell how I can see or hear anythin', or talk for that matter. Just... happens. Feels like if I were just usin' a heid normally, but nae? It dinnae make sense. But it also feels like it's everywhere? Like I can just turn me attention somewhere 'round me and see it, nae need tae turn tae look. Or hear. And me voice comes from all angles. I dinnae ken how Soldier does that and talks through the heid with his collar."
"Y'think we should get 'is collar for you?" Scout asked.
"Nae, me heid was rotten by the time I got me clothes on. Put it in a bag in Doc's fridge just in case."
"Thank you for not simply pitching it out the window like Soldier is so prone to doing," Spy sighed.
As if summoned, a loud clomp clomp clomp of boots in the hallway was a bare moment's warning before the door opened worryingly slowly. All eyes turned to see.
Standing in the doorway was Soldier—or what had to be Soldier, at least. It was hard to tell, as the loosely man-shaped figure was swaddled in a series of heavy blankets, with a pair of pillows duct-taped around his head, completely hiding it from view. All the same, from between the pillows, flames licked at the air, burning nothing. Fire teased from under the blankets anywhere it could, wending between the layers, the shape of the man beneath all of the fabric barely holding together. Muffled from within, Soldier's voice confirmed his identity, as he announced, "Men, something has happened."
"Yeah, no shit," Scout chuckled as Soldier entered the room blindly, a mess of blankets and fire.
Soldier stopped at that, the sound of his boyfriend's voice washing over him in a synesthesia of colour and sound and emotion. It was strange and beautiful in a way he couldn't describe, lithe movement, graceful turns, dancing light and joyful tinkling like bells made of love, and just hearing the voice he treasured so much filled his heart to bursting.
Pyro rushed from his seat over to the blinded djinni and wrapped an arm around his barely-shaped shoulders. "Over here, Soldier," he soothed, directing him to the couch, away from the folding table and chairs used for meetings to the softer seating of the small mixed-use room, near where the television sat, powered off. "I've got you."
Soldier flopped onto the couch almost amorphously, feeling himself spreading out just from feeling Pyro's warmth seeping through the blankets, the additional benign stimulus too much to bear. Nothing would stop moving, everything wriggling, dancing, swaying, reaching, glorious and glittering and golden and beautiful with horns and accordions and whole calliopes of crashing symbols and circling horses and the taste of blue like cotton candy is blue but also like the sky is blue and his jacket was blue and the paint flaking off of the exterior of the building was blue and it sounded like hunger and it sounded like vertigo with the texture of anxiety and the grit of magic like stubble against his cheek and it smelled like camaraderie and confusion and pity and he couldn't handle the stench of pity, it was too much!
Flames spread out over the couch, bubbling up from under the cocoon of blankets, climbing up its back and over its arms as the taped-up pillows sank onto the pile, fire creeping out and around and consuming the couch and the fabrics upon it. Pyro reached his hand into the fire and felt alive for the first time since he'd woken up, the sensation of Soldier's burning lack of form invigorating and awake and making him long to be back to his old self. If this dull, dim discomfort was what humanity felt like, he couldn't even imagine what Soldier, a dead man with grave-dimmed senses, must be going through.
"Poor lad," Demoman hummed, as though he'd realized the exact thing, reflecting on how undeath was numbing his own senses. "This has tae be... a lot."
"No kidding," Pyro replied, worried. "Soldier. Soldier, listen to me, you need to pull yourself together." He ignored Scout snickering behind him. "You need to try and narrow your perception. You should be feeling a lot, but you can handle it. I know how strong you are."
"The tastes and movement, it hurts like lemons and won't stop sparkling," Soldier babbled, unable to articulate his situation."
"Synesthesia?" Medic asked, craning over to observe with a grin.
"Soldier, you're probably seeing a whole bunch of layers of reality right now. And it's a lot. I need you to stay on this plane," Pyro coached gently, kneeling on the floor beside the couch and keeping his hand inside of Soldier's flames. "I need you to keep your eyes just on the material realm. You can do it. Just focus. You're here, with us, on a couch, with blankets and pillows, and me talking to you. Can you feel my hand?"
"You have skin," Soldier mumbled muzzily. Amid the burning hues, a pair of glowing yellow eyes surfaced like ice cubes bobbing to the top of a glass of water. They blinked, trying to focus on the light brown of Pyro's eyes, on the softness in them, on his gentle smile, on the curve of his nose and the way his black curls spilled over his shoulders. "Pyro, you're a human."
"Hoping it doesn't stay that way," Pyro replied warmly. He could feel pressure against his hand, like another hand grasping it, wispy and indistinct, but beginning to find shape within the formless flames. "Though you wear djinnhood well."
"It's so much."
"It is. I feel too still, too quiet," Pyro admitted. "Like somebody put earmuffs on reality."
"I could use some earmuffs."
"Let's get you back to shape, and we'll wrap you up nice and heavy in those blankets again, so you've got some constant pressure to soothe you. Everything won't be so much then, I bet."
Soldier hesitated. That was what he'd been trying to do with the blankets, but he'd barely made it to the meeting before he came apart at the seams. Pyro seemed to know what he was doing, though. And he trusted Pyro. "Okay."
Slowly, Soldier began to regain his shape, trying to ignore the sensation of every stitch, every thread, every surface against his fiery body sending echoes of incongruent feelings through whatever passed for his nerves now, closing his eyes and gritting his jaw once it existed again, powering through until he was shaped roughly like himself again. The blankets had all fallen away, of course, leaving him sitting there naked, made entirely of fire, with flames licking at the air from the top of his head, which now bore a pair of horns poking up from his forehead. Pyro noted they were much larger than his own, which he thought suited Soldier.
"You did great," Pyro said, taking the blankets and wrapping them back around him as Scout joined him to help. "And here, one sec. I've got just the thing to help." He dashed out of the room and into the hallway, darting into his and Engineer's quarters for a moment, only to return with his gasmask. "My head's a little smaller than yours, but you're a little amorphous, so it should be okay," he said, and pulled the mask down over Soldier's head, muffling sound and cutting down peripheral vision a bit. Scents were muted, and suddenly, Soldier felt like he could breathe again, in spite of the filters.
"It works," Soldier said with awe.
"I like the mask because it helps me focus. Usually I like it for focusing on different layers of reality than the physical one, but that's because I can do that on purpose. This should help keep you grounded, and a little less overwhelmed," Pyro explained, cradling Soldier's masked face between his hands.
"Thank you, Pyro," Soldier replied softly, almost meekly, so out of his depth he couldn't muster his usual bravado.
Pyro pressed a kiss to his forehead, earning a gentle squeeze of his shoulder and a smile from Scout. "No problem, Jane."
"You got this, babe," Scout added, taking hold of his hand and giving it a squeeze.
Soldier squeezed back, puffing up his chest a bit upon properly registering the whole scene had been in front of the entire team. "Of course I do," he replied with a nod. "It's gonna take a lot more than setting me on fire to take me down!"
Scout chuckled, he and Pyro grinning as Soldier finally sounded like the man they knew.
Spy drew a line on the chalkboard between Soldier's title and the word Djinni. "So we are left with a very important, very daunting question on our hands." He pointed to the cris-crossing lines on the board, all except for two names and two possibilities. "Between Medic and Pyro, one of them is human..."
"And one o' them's a werewolf," Demoman finished for him, a thoughtful hush falling over the room as the statement sunk in.
All eyes fell upon each potential lycanthrope in turn. Neither was a particularly good option.
Pyro was a terror on the battlefield, capable of cruelty with giggling delight, taking joy in his work even as he burned people alive and chopped bodies into pulp. He was a sweet man with his friends, but he was capable of extreme violence.
Medic wore bloodlust like a second skin, as dangerous with syringe and saw as he was efficient in keeping his team alive so they could take apart the enemy for him. He delighted in doing surgery barehanded so that he could feel the blood and viscera of the bodies he explored. He had no concept of moderation.
Either one of them had the possibility of becoming a physical embodiment of primal, bestial instinct.
"There's nae full moon tonight," Demoman said. "It was on the fourteenth. So nightfall willnae trigger the curse. But it's still Halloween, which means the change'll still happen come the Witching Hour."
"So we have until midnight," Sniper clarified, noticing confusion crossing Scout's face.
"Aye. We'd do well to be prepared for either possibility. Medic or Pyro."
"You're the one with experience here," Pyro said, gesturing to Demoman. "What should we do to prepare?"
"Meat. You're gonna need a lot of meat," Sniper said.
"Aye, the transformation leaves ye famished," Demoman agreed. "Best tae have as many calories o' meat on hand as ye can. Mickey packs me at least a full cooler o' the stuff when we go out. Speakin' o' that, ye'll want a partner on hand tae shag."
Engineer and Heavy exchanged glances.
"The more ye can spend out yer energy on feastin' and fuckin' the less trouble yer like tae get up tae," Demoman explained simply, not voicing his concern that he had guidance from his parents and put in years of work to learn to control his violent impulses while the wolf was out. That wasn't an option here, so hopefully mitigation would be enough.
"I'm, of course, glad to offer any 'elp with keepin' our new werewolf busy I can," Sniper added with a perverted little grin.
Demoman shook his head with a laugh. "Aye, well ye can start by makin' sure we have enough lube tae hand for the job, then."
The mercenaries wake up on Halloween to discover things have Changed quite dramatically, and realize exactly what Merasmus' curse does. It causes quite a stir.
Ao3 Link!
Part of Monstrous Intent!
(Within Monstrous Intent BLU Spy and BLU Scout are not related in any way. They are in fact different species.)
---------
The plan for the next morning was to sleep in and get properly to work on setting up the party a little bit before lunchtime. The cool autumn nights made that plan all the more attractive, the chilly air leaking through the windows and doors and general cracks and crevices of the miniature base making Sniper glad he'd brought the big fluffy duvet that Demoman had purchased for them to share at Coldfront. The bomber was used to chilly weather, having grown up in it. But even with all of his travels, Sniper had never found himself particularly fond of when the nights grew too brisk.
It was unfortunate, then, that in spite of his best laid plans to sleep in, swaddled in the oversized duvet, cuddling his husband, Sniper found himself awake far earlier than he knew he wanted to be. The sun was hitting the window at the right angle to creep right through every gap in the curtains and into his eyes, and as the light roused him, pain welcomed Sniper to the waking world. His head was pounding, sore, with two big points of outward pressure at his hairline like something was trying to push out of his skull. It wasn't blinding, but it certainly wasn't pleasant, and he squinted with hatred at the window above the head of their bed, inescapable in the tiny quarters they occupied.
Sniper tried rolling over, ignoring the light and the pain and forcing himself back to sleep. Behind him, Demoman slept quietly, inaudible beneath the mountain of blanket. He had no idea how the Scot could sleep completely covered from head-to-toe like that, how breathing could be comfortable. But then Demoman could sleep anywhere in any position, and through damn near any racket, so the man was clearly just a master of his craft.
Ugh. No luck. Now he was thinking, his train of thought coherent, which meant he was fully awake whether he liked it or not. And on top of that, he had absolutely raging morning wood that made the prospect of laying around less than comfortable. It was fine. His head hurt like hell anyway. He could just get up, grab some paracetamol, and go fix some coffee. Best to see if Demoman would like some, or if he preferred to continue sleeping in. It wasn't exactly like they were in a rush to start the day.
"Tav," Sniper murmured, sliding his arms back around the bomber and pressing a kiss to his shoulder. He was cold, so unlike the normally hot-running Scot. Must have kicked off the duvet at some point in the night and finally slotted himself back under it before Sniper awoke, poor thing. "Oi, love."
Demoman grunted softly, but didn't move.
Sniper smiled and loosely held his husband's hand. "Tav, I'm gonna get some coffee. You want a cuppa?"
A gentle squeeze answered him, followed by another, less gentle groan.
There was no waking him up before his appointed time, Sniper chuckled. He gave that hand another squeeze before pulling away, sliding out from under the blanket and off of the bed to go handle his morning routine. He'd probably go make that second cup anyway. By the time he was done brushing his teeth and shaving Demoman might be more willing to join the land of the living.
Sniper climbed to his feet and promptly tumbled to the floor in a heap, his balance failing instantly as he tried to put his heels down. He toppled backward with a shout, landing flat on his back and bouncing his head against the floor boards, grateful that this ramshackle base was floored with wood rather than BLU-standard cement.
"Mickey?" Demoman slurred sleepily, his voice sounding strange, less muffled than it should have been by the enormous duvet.
"Sorry to wake you, Pup," Sniper mumbled, sitting up with a wince, rubbing the back of his head. I fell—" he froze, the words dying in his throat as he looked down at his legs in front of him, twisted into unguligrade shape with cloven hooves and white, wooly fur. He gawped, grabbing his head. His fingers brushed against the most painful part of his head and felt small horns pushing out of his skin, making a full scream finally escape his throat.
Demoman yelped and snatched Eyelander from where it was propped against the wall. He could feel it shiver in his hand as he threw the duvet aside and snapped upright to defend his mate. "Mickey?! What's wrong?!" he asked, his voice seeming to come from everywhere and nowhere at once. He saw Sniper sitting there on the floor, fingers running over a pair of horns sticking out of his head, sheep's legs below the waist, and shrieked in surprise. "What happened?!"
Sniper looked to Demoman and screamed again, his arm snapping out to point at the bomber in shock and horror. "Your head!"
"Me what?!" Demoman asked, reading up to touch his cheek, only for his hand to alight on nothing. He dropped Eyelander on the bed, feeling for where his head would be, only to slowly creep down and feel his neck, and the edge of it, severed and leading down into a featureless void within, a strange and altogether disquietingly pleasurable sensation spreading through him as his fingers passed inside for a bare moment. He didn't much register it, however, too consumed by horror as he gasped, a whimper leaving him as he tried to understand what was happening. He turned to see his own head lying motionless on the pillow and screamed.
*
"Mnh, what are those two screaming about? Dummkopfs," Medic grumbled, nosing into the side of Heavy's hairy chest like the comforting motion would somehow shut out the noise from the quarters two doors down.
"Assholes," Scout groaned from his place curled up between Heavy's legs, using the giant's belly as a pillow.
"Don't care. Will kill them later," Heavy replied muzzily, squeezing Medic closer against himself. He gathered Medic's bottom in his hand and gave it a cheeky squeeze, smirking as he enjoyed the softness of his lover's shapely behind.
"Heavy, not so tight, your hand feels like a vice," Medic grunted, shifting to try and slip out of his grip, only to remain exactly where he was. It was then that he realized that Heavy's hand didn't feel right at all, almost hard, like—
Heavy let go and pet down Medic's flank, murmuring, "Sorry, Doktor."
Medic jerked at the feeling, not the calloused skin of his lover's fingers but something hard, unyielding, and a little bit cold ran up his side. "Was?" he grunted, tossing the blanket aside. Laying upon his hip wasn't Heavy's hairy-backed, thick-fingered hand, but The Gunslinger, or at least a Heavy-sized version of it, attached to the giant's arm where his hand should be.
The doctor shrieked in surprise, pushing himself upright and away from the alien object. "Heavy! Your hand!"
Heavy held the metallic hand up to see, eyes going wide in horror.
"What the hell is—woah!" Scout tried to roll over onto his knees to see what the ruckus was about, but found himself tumbling over onto Medic, a sudden weight on his back sending him off balance. His legs kicked up as he bowled over, and to his surprise he saw pinkish grey talons rather than brown fur and hooves. He screamed, wriggling as he tried to right himself. "Where's my hooves?!"
Medic fell back as Scout landed atop him, a flurry of feathers obscuring his vision and making him recoil, moving to shield himself with his own wings, until he realized he couldn't move them. That his back felt suddenly so light, and his arms suddenly so heavy. He tried to blink his nictitating membrances, but nothing happened. He looked at his arms, expecting to see keratinous corneum but instead peachy skin and dark, fluffy hair. He wrenched a leg out from under the blanket and Scout, looking down to see hairy skin and human toes. He screamed.
*
Pyro groaned, pulling his pillow over his head. Demo and Sniper on their left, Heavy and Medic on their right. Why the hell did he and Engineer take the middle room in the hallway? And why the hell were all five of them screaming at eight in the morning?!
Waking up to some nice morning sex was supposed to be gentle, relaxing, cuddly; a soft start to the day. Not raucous enough to be yelling and carrying on like that, no matter how much of a screamer Medic in particular was! The plan was to sleep in, have a lazy breakfast, and spend the day taking their time getting ready for the party so they'd have the energy for the absolute rager they were planning that night! There was little doubt in Pyro's mind that their holiday shindig would end up turning into some kind of orgy anyway, so was ball-slapping caterwauling sex really necessary this early in the morning?!
Eventually the screaming died down into muffled shouting and conversation, and a flurry of activity on either side. Pyro pouted and tossed the pillow off, resigning himself to being awake but intent on not being happy about it. He reached over for Engineer, hoping to at least get some quality cuddle time in, but found the spot where he would have been empty, making him pout harder. He'd probably gotten up early out of habit. Maybe if he was lucky he'd be fixing breakfast. That'd make this morning a little more tolerable.
It sure didn't feel tolerable. Aside from his annoyance, he felt... off. Like everything was a little too muffled, a little too still, a little too dull. Numb, like there was novocaine on everything, from his thoughts to the way the blankets felt against him. It felt grey. It felt muted. It felt dead. Maybe he was just too tired and grumpy. Maybe he was getting sick, with that weird malaise that came with it before the symptoms properly set in? His nose was clear, his throat didn't hurt, and his chest felt unobstructed. He hoped he wasn't getting sick. That would be a shitty way to spend Halloween, and probably miss the party.
Maybe he should try to catch some more sleep anyway, just to be sure. He reached around, trying to find where he'd petulantly tossed his pillow, only for his hand to come to rest on something soft and fluffy. He didn't recognize it, and opening his eyes a crack, he saw a big poof of orange on the bed in front of him. He squinted, the blurriness of sleep clearing enough for him to see the shape of a chubby, fluffy orange fox, though its short little legs made it look more like a fox had crossbred with a corgie. A plushie?
Engineer did like making a habit of surprising him with stuffed animals, tucking them into bed with Pyro when he woke up before his beloved firebug, so he'd have something to cuddle while he was gone. Pyro smiled, sighing contentedly as he thought of his sweet babybear and settled in, eyes falling closed as he reached out and wrapped his arms around the fox plushie, hugging it to his chest. He buried his face in its fluffy fur and squeezed it tight.
The fox screamed.
Pyro screamed.
"What in tarnation?" the fox barked, wriggling out of Pyro's grasp as the arsonist backpedaled away, dumping himself off of the side of the bed in his terror. He landed back-first on the floor with a thump, legs still dangling up onto the mattress and kicking in the air.
Pyro knew that voice anywhere. "DELL?!"
The fox chased him to the edge of the bed, looking down over with terror in his orange eyes. "PYRO?!" he yelped, looking over the upturned arsonist in confusion. "What in the hell happened to you?!"
"To me?! What the hell happened to you?!" Pyro replied in shock, pointing at the fox on the bed, lashing about three tails. That was when Pyro caught sight of his arm.
Tawny brown skin and black hair sheathed his arm as he gestured to the talking fox, to Engineer. Pyro's eyes went wide as he realized it was his, and that the equally skin-clad legs hanging over the bed were his as well. He looked down at himself, at warm skin and dark hair and a body the shape of his own but looking nothing like it, made of nothing like it. Black curls tugged at his scalp as he moved, long hair trapped beneath his back on the floor. "I'm...human?!" Pyro almost whimpered, looking at his own hands in horror, watching them tremble.
Engineer looked down at his own paws, then back to his boyfriend on the floor, and sighed through his little black nose. "Get the feelin' I know what all that screamin' and carryin' on's all about."
*
Scout charged out of Heavy and Medic's quarters, talons biting into the wooden floorboards in a way that made him feel like he was wearing cleats. He nearly tumbled into Soldier's door across the hall, the extra weight of the wings on his back throwing him off-balance. He flapped them to try and keep himself upright, and tore through the hall to the stairs, charging up to the building's small second floor.
At the top of the stairs sat the infirmary and the final set of three quarters, the furthest corner being Spy's room. "Spy?" he called, charging up the stairs, worried for what fate had befallen his lover. "Spy!"
Maybe he could figure this out. He knew lots of stuff about magic and junk, and changing shapes on top of it!
Spy's eyes snapped open at the sound of Scout's frightened cries, hand instinctively grabbing the balisong under his pillow. "Scout?" He grabbed the knife, ignoring his confusion at how it felt comparatively miniscule in his hand, and leapt from the bed. "Scout!" he called, bolting for the door only for a wave of vertigo to wash over him and drag him to his knees. The floor felt too far away until he hit it, and Spy doubled forward, planting his hands in front of him, his eyes going wide as he saw the balisong in his hand.
It was tiny; diminutive, even. Compared to his hand, it looked like a toy, or what one of his knives would look like held in one of Heavy's massive paws.
"Spy! You okay?!" Scout asked, hearing the thump from inside. "Can I come in?"
"One moment," Spy assured him, more confused than upset at this point. What had happened to his knife? He climbed to his feet and looked around, horrified to realize that everything was smaller. His bed, his dresser, the ruins of his pajamas among the blankets, the room itself! Spy looked up at the ceiling, so close to his face, and frowned. No. No, the room wasn't smaller. He was larger. Much larger.
He closed his eyes, taking a long, deep breath through his nose, and reached over. The distance to the door was barely anything. He unlocked the door. "Entrez."
Scout opened the door slowly, concern knitting his brow at the defeated tone in Spy's voice. Things had gone from panic to somber in a heartbeat, and his stomach knotted up at the thought of what he might find.
What he found was himself face-to-nipples with Spy, nude and standing eight feet tall, looking somewhat wounded about the whole experience. His skin was grey-blue, his eyes softly glowing, his ears just slightly pointed, and his expression entirely sour. He was a jotun, albeit probably the skinniest jotun that ever lived, having all of Heavy's height but none of his breadth, leaving the man looking almost stretched out and gangling.
Scout stepped back, trying to get all of Spy in his sight, mouth falling open in shock. "Spy, you're—you're huge!"
Spy scoffed, rolling his eyes. "I bet you say that to all the boys," he joked drolly, closing up his balisong and dropping it onto the dresser with distaste.
Scout chuckled a little, his feathers fluffing up on instinct.
"And you," Spy hummed, squatting down to look at the young man before him, who had leapt out of bed and run there naked. "You have wings."
Spy couldn't deny there was something cute about the flighty young man sporting feathers, but he kept the thought to himself. 'Angelic' sprung to mind, which was perhaps the least accurate description he could give to Jeremy Willis. "Heavy and Medic have been affected too, I imagine?"
"Yeah, and probably the others. Everyone woke up screamin' today!"
Taking a deep breath, Spy rose to full height, trying to maintain what little dignity he had left. "Gather the team."
Merasmus arrives on the scene and things do not go smoothly to say the least, the mercenaries ending up all facing the angry arcanist's wizardly wrath! But nothing seems any different...
Ao3 Link!
Part of Monstrous Intent!
Sadly the original gag of Merasmus yelling included the text size getting progressively larger but I couldn't get that to track without embiggening the whole paragraph. Alas. So, font colour it is!
(Within Monstrous Intent BLU Spy and BLU Scout are not related in any way. They are in fact different species.)
---------
The golden hues of the late afternoon sky had gone dark, washed away with the inky blackness of the void, of a false night that crept across the open air so suddenly as to feel suffocating in its abrupt depth and intensity. Ebbs and flows of softly glowing green coursed through the blanket of shadow like churning rapids, the dome of darkness that had overtaken the battlefield at Harvest and its surrounding bases roiling like some horrid living thing.
On the battlefield, Merasmus floated. A manifestation of malice and menace, he cast an emerald glow in all directions, the transluscent and viridescent shape of his incorporeal form hovering above the control point shed and exuding a spiritual pressure so intense as to make the grass and vines swoon in his presence.
"JANE DOE!" he bellowed, raising his crook toward the BLU respawn building, where the object of his rage stood at the window of the locker room, a feature that afforded the mercenaries little privacy. "STAND AND FACE YOUR COMEUPPANCE, YOU SLATTERN!"
The mercenaries clustered at the window, staring out at the field in dismay.
"Tell him I'm not home," Soldier grunted.
"Don't think that's gonna work, babe," Scout countered. "Plus who's gonna do that? I ain't goin' out there alone to give 'im the ol' 'oh he just stepped out'."
Lightning crashed overhead, winds whipping across the farms.
"I think he's astrally projecting," Pyro pointed out, squinting at the oversized, transluscent figure of the wizard hovering in midair.
"He probably got pissed enough to barf up his own soul again," Soldier chuckled, unrepentant.
"I mean, if 'e's just astral, then we should be safe, right?" Scout asked. "I mean, when Doc touches you when you're astral, it's just a little cold, is all. Can't even really feel the touch."
"Oh no, he's still quite dangerous," Medic clarified giddily. "He can still cast spells on the material plane even if he's separated from his body. Especially since he's powerful enough to visibly manifest his astral self on this plane!"
"Nothin for it, then," Demoman concluded, returning to his locker and taking Eyelander back out of it. "We face the wizard."
Spy scowled, lighting a fresh cigarette. "Back on the battlefield after hours, and we won't even be paid for overtime. This is a farce."
"Yeah yeah, complain to your union rep," Engineer chuckled, pulling his goggles back on.
*
"Finally," Merasmus hissed as the BLU team poured out of the farm house, mustered and ready for battle. Their uniforms were still stained with blood and dirt from the day's combat, each of them looking haggard and furious, ready to meet his venom with their own. "The coward shows his face."
Soldier snarled, stomping his boot in the dust. "I am no coward, Merasmus! You are a thief and an awful roommate!"
"Awful roommate?!" Merasmus spat, curling through the air in rage. "You destroyed a fifth of my library! You wore my robes! You ate cereal from my Hell-forged headdress! YOU BEFOULED MY PERSONAL COMMODE! EFFLUVIA WASHED INTO THE BOWL FROM WHENCE THE WATER IS SUPPOSED TO BE CLEAN! YOU DEFILED A PLACE OF SOLACE AND PEACE! YOU SOILED MY VERY THRONE! THIS TRESPASS WILL NOT GO UNANSWERED!!!" He rose his crook, the staff glowing brighter and brighter as his fury intensified.
"You kept my stuff when you kicked me out, you dirty rotten thief!" Soldier barked, uncowed by the increasing volume and volatility of the spectral spellcaster towering over his team. "You left your stuff everywhere so I had to move ancient tomes and dirty robes if I just wanted to sit on the couch! You never did your dishes! I had to take all the trash out every week! The rails of the shower door were caked in mildew! You never wiped the sink after you shaved! I had to mow the lawn when the township came by and complained that the grass was a foot and a half high! I needed to use a machete! An upper deck is the least you deserved for that! You're a terrible roommate and a worse necromancer!"
Hearing the verbal gauntlet thrown, the rest of the team readied their weapons, mustering around Soldier in a show of force and solidarity in spite of how ridiculous both men were being.
Merasmus hissed, his tongue forking as his slit pupils narrowed to mere black lines bisecting his ethereal eyes. "And you all defend him, knowing his crimes?" he spat, looking to the team in turn, particular distaste in the glares he leveled upon Medic and Sniper. "Fine! Then you will suffer punishment as a team!"
The wizard shot high into the air, spiralling skyward until he nearly touched the top of the eldritch dome he'd brought over the battlefield, and swept his crook in an arch, the spiritual pressure of the movement pushing bodily upon the mercenaries in a wave, sending them off-balance. "I take your kind and shuffle them! Mix and match and mingle, then! Make your bodies hence unknown! Identities all overthrown! Bits and pieces, scattered all! Turmoil traded for your gall! O'er the working week's long end! All Hallow's Eve and Day of Dead! And while at last the veil grows thin, you all will wear each other's skin! 𒆕𒈨!!!"
Merasmus swept the crook a second time, crossing them with another wave of pressure, only to then thrust the crook square at the team, a bolt of green lightning crackling from its curved tip and spreading out into nine fingers as it streaked to the ground in an instant, striking each mercenary dead in the forehead, the glow coursing through their bodies as it sent them sinking bonelessly to the ground in a sudden shock of sheer magical power.
They groaned, collapsed together in a heap as the darkness blanketing the battlefield began to recede from the ground, shrinking higher and higher until only the centre of the sky was a thick, impenetrable black, and Merasmus cackled his victory. "Unhappy Halloween, fools! Awoo!" He barrel-rolled through the air and shot up into the blackness, diappearing from view. Once he was gone, the dark spot folded in on itself and was gone, leaving only the lingering gold and grey of the almost-set sun to comfort the mercenaries in his wake.
"Dù me?" Pyro murmured, recognizing Sumerian anywhere as he pulled himself up to his knees.
"I will not do you!" Soldier yelled, shaking his fist at the sky where Merasmus had been. "That ship sailed when you evicted me!"
"Shut up," Heavy grunted, climbing slowly to his feet. "Wizard curse us because of you."
"Has he?" Engineer asked, looking himself over. "Sure was a lot o' mumbo jumbo for not feelin' any different."
"Change self?" Pyro asked, trying to figure out the meaning of the words. There were a few ways dù and me were used, but the idea was the same: a transformation or alteration or birth of the self or the body. He could see the soft aura of magic infusing all of their bodies as they pulled themselves off of the ground and one another, and he didn't like it one bit.
"Curses. Dark things," Demoman warned, winking away the magic that was slowly spending out and leaving his eye socket. "We shouldnae let our guard down."
"Ah, he's all hot air," Scout dismissed with a wave. "All 'e did was read some poetry at us then fuck off."
"No, there is definitely something affecting us all, but what it is I can't be sure! Hoo, how exciting! I have yet to do much study into curses!" Medic hooted with excitement, his eyes softly glowing as he examined the magical energies clinging to himself.
Sniper cut to the point. "So what do we do?"
"Until we know what the curse is and how to break it, we can't really do anything," Pyro admitted. "Curses tend to be really specific things, and sometimes they can't even be broken, just mitigated like with Demo's curse."
"His functions more like a disease," Medic observed. "An incurable one, but the symptoms can be eased with a proper treatment plan."
"Treatment plan in this case meanin' superhuman amounts o' self-control, a big dinner, and Mickey's arse?"
"Treatment plans should be personalized to the patient," Medic giggled.
Demoman rolled his eye.
"But like I was saying, we can't even really do any research about this. The base is so small that most of our stuff is in storage," Pyro reasoned.
"So what, we do nothin'?" Sniper asked.
"I dunno what else we can do right now."
"Alright, that settles it, then!" Scout crowed, hopping up onto a crate to draw all eyes to him. "We can't do nothin' about it, so we don't let it freak us out!"
Demoman muttered something about how easy that was for Scout under his breath.
"An' instead we focus on what we can do, which is get ready for our bigass Halloween party tomorrow! We're gonna throw a killer shindig! We're gonna get drunk! And laid! And sick on candy an' caramel apples! An' this tiny base or some stupid curse ain't gonna stop us!"
The team let out a cheer in response, glad for the distraction.
"Spy, you get the message over to the REDs that we ain't tryna start shit if they see us around this farm house 'ere tomorrow?"
"Yes, I've made our intentions perfectly clear to them, and though it took a bit of convincing and quite a bit more bribery, their spy has assured me that they understand our motives, and that nonagression will stand for the ceasefire. I, of course, let them know that should they desire to use their side of the field for their own festivities, we would offer them the same courtesy."
"So the only thing we need to worry about is that ghost that likes to come 'round here sometimes," Engineer said.
"I am not afraid of no ghosts," Soldier harrumphed. "I refuse to be afraid of no ghosts!"
"Easy for the dead guy to say," Scout chuckled.
"Undead, maggot!"
"Let us go shower and have dinner," Heavy grumbled, laying a hand against Medic's wing. "Tired, hungry, want to go to bed."
"Good idea," Medic cooed, leaning into the touch. "Scout, you are joining us tonight, right?"
"Hell yeah, Doc!" Scout cheered. "Though I ain't sorry if I end up sleepin' on top 'a you guys. These beds are wicked tiny."
"This is fine," Heavy hummed with a smile. "Beds are too tiny though."
"Well if those two've got you tonight, who gets you in the shower?" Sniper teased.
Scout grinned. "First come, first serve, pally. Then second come, then third come, then fourth come..."
Merasmus' penchant for taking on terrible roommates isn't limited to just the RED Soldier, it turns out, and BLU Soldier finds himself at odds with the wizard shortly after moving in with him, which leads to so dramatic a falling out that the team ends up getting cursed the night before their big Halloween party! Nothing seems to be different though, at least until they wake up the next morning.
Ao3 Link!
Part of Monstrous Intent!
Credit and much love to @beepiesheepie for coming up with the idea for this fic and shooting the shit with me about it on and off for like a year, lol. He started writing it a while back but didn't get super far, and when I said I wanted to try writing it (not knowing he'd started) he showed me what he had (much of which I adapted here) and gave me his blessing, and more ideas to play with along the way. :3
I'd wanted to have this out in time for Halloween once the bug bit me to write it, but, well, time (and scope creep) makes fools of us all, lol. I've got a ton written though so it should all be done soon enough. Enjoy! :D (I'll be getting back to Country Roads once this is done with, sorry for the wait, folks!)
(Within Monstrous Intent BLU Spy and BLU Scout are not related in any way. They are in fact different species.)
---------
"Friday at last!" Enginner sighed, tossing his hardhat and goggles into his locker and rubbing at his eyes.
"About time," Pyro agreed, hanging his flamethrower and starting work on his harness.
The week had been a long, dull slog at Harvest; the relatively small battlefield and close quarters leading to frequent respawn trips for every member of both teams, longevity being less the game plan than strategic rushes and coordinating timing with respawn countdowns. It was miserable, bloody, and exhausting, the resulting wins and losses both proving terrible for morale overall.
Even the base was tiny, barely a house for them to share. The first floor held only a shared bathroom, a tiny kitchen they called a mess hall, and a combination recreation/meeting room that was essentially a black board mounted to one wall with a few folding chairs at the ready next to a pair of couches and the television. The connecting hallway held only six bedrooms, with the final three on the second floor opposite the infirmary. Each mercenary had their own quarters as usual, but each one was terribly cramped, leaving the couples that bunked together even less space than usual. The team's habit of lashing together beds (or bringing their own for longer assignments) was deeply inconvenient, leaving the mercenaries precious little room to actually climb out of the contraptions without having to vault their own footboards. There was space for little else, meaning the showers and locker room sat on the tiny second floor of the respawn building, separate from the living area, with no armory or workshop for proper maintenance and repairs.
The cramped setup was attached directly to the battlefield with little to separate it all and the control point at the centre of the field save for the abandoned farm house sprawling out between. Neither team enjoyed the privacy they did at larger bases like 2Fort.
But with the weekend came an end to the grind, and more importantly: the team's annual Halloween party. Finally, a chance to blow off the tension of the tight confines with some drunken revelry and probable debauchery.
"So I figure instead 'a waitin' for the liquor store to open tomorrow an' drivin' all the way out an' all the way back..." Scout began, unceremoniously dropping his backpack and weapons in his locker.
"Really need to put a teleporter out there," Engineer mumbled.
"I figure how 'bout me an' Soldier head out there tonight before the store closes, stock up, crash at 'is place in Teufort an' come back in the mornin' with the whole haul? Maybe grab some pizzas on the way?" the faun finished.
"Negatory, Private," Soldier said, shedding his jacket. "I am currently homeless."
Everyone stopped, turning to look with concern at their coworker.
"Wait, what?!" Scout gawped, grabbing the broader man by his shoulders. "You okay? What happened? Since when?"
Soldier shrugged a bit. "I was evicted from my apartment back in August."
"But we visit apartment after gun show," Heavy said, a bit confused. Hopefully having himself and Medic as overnight guests hadn't been some kind of evictable offense. But with how loud Medic tended to be...
"Yes," Soldier confirmed. "It was a week and a half after that. The landlord did a surprise inspection and did not tell me in enough time for me to disarm my booby traps. Then he had the balls to tell me I was in the wrong after he got his ass perforated with a twelve-gauge's worth of rock salt! What did he expect, coming into a man's home with next to no warning?! He should be grateful I replaced the buckshot with salt after the Administrator yelled at me for killing so many of her guys with TVs strapped to them."
"You been homeless since August?!" Scout hollered, shaking the man a bit.
"Negatory. I found a personal ad in the Teufort Reader that wanted a roommate to move in as soon as possible. Rent was astronomical, but I didn't have to wait around."
"Where was that?"
"Merasmus' castle."
Sniper's eyebrows danced upward. "Merasmus?"
"Yes. He needed a roommate who could pay a ridiculous amount of money very quickly. Plus he kind of owed me since he reanimated me and then shoved me out into the world with next to no explanation. When you create a life—or an unlife—you've got eighteen whole years of parental duty to perform!"
"Somebody tell me mum that," Demoman muttered bitterly.
"Wait, I thought he already had a roommate," Sniper pointed out. "Bloody disgustin' one, too."
"He said he'd finally had enough and kicked the guy out, but also said that if he came back, to tell him Merasmus wasn't home," Soldier replied with a shrug.
"Wait so how're you homeless now, though? Did Merasmus kick you out too?" Scout asked, finally letting go of Soldier.
"Well, it's a long story. He kept threatening to evict me, because I wouldn't stop touching his stuff, but he left it all over the place! How was I supposed to know what magic robes and skull bowls were public domain or personal items? Every damn piece of dishware was made of something or another's bones! And there were toilets all over the place! It was weird! Most of them weren't even hooked up to plumbing! They were just sitting there! He said there used to be more but he took out all of the used ones! What does that even mean?!"
Medic and Sniper shared a look, knowing exactly what that meant.
Scout pouted, trying to puzzle out all of the dramatics. "So he kicked you out for touching his stuff? Seriously?"
"No, no. Well. Yes. But not that stuff. It all happened last weekend..."
*
"So, you're the Bombbobasmotron, huh?"
Soldier rubbed his thumb and forefinger against his chin as he considered the ancient tome sitting motionless on a stand atop an altar in the evocation section of Merasmus' study. Surrounding it were the candles lit with the same magical green flames that illuminated the entire space from wall sconces, lending the cover's relief of an angry face with a bomb-stuffed mouth even further otherworldly menace.
The book's brow furrowed, its eyes glowing red as if awakened, and training on the curious dullahan, now craning over the book to examine it up close. "Man, it's Bombinomicon! Come on, you ain't even tryin' to get it right!"
"You're the guy who haunted my friend's eye socket!"
"You're gonna have to narrow it down, buddy. I do that to lots of people."
"His name's Tavish. Worked for Merasmus when he was seven. Scottish kid, black, one haunted eye..."
Bombinomicon rolled its eyes. "Nah, dunno him."
"What about my ex? I'm pretty sure you haunted his eye, too!"
"Oh yeah?" Bombinomicon replied, already bored.
"Yes. His name's Tavish. Worked for Merasmus when he was seven. Scottish kid, black, one haunted eye..."
"Man, that's the same guy!"
"You'd think that, but he's not!" Soldier replied with a grin.
"I don't keep track of every kid Merasmus hires or eyeball I haunt," Bombinomicon huffed. "You just gonna keep ramblin' at me all day or do you got somethin' useful to ask me? I'm an ancient book on explosives! Hell, if you touch me I can give you all kinds of crazy bomb powers! Just look inside my pages!"
"Bomb powers do sound pretty neat," Soldier admitted reaching for the book. Just before his fingers could reach its cover, he stopped, pulling his hand back. "Hey, wait. You're trying to haunt my eye, weren't you?!"
With a laugh, Bombinomicon flapped its pages a bit. "Ey, ya got me! I almost had you! I was so gonna haunt your eye!"
"Man, it's Bombinomicon! Don't make me give you a bomb head. I'll do it!"
"Ha, messing with my head will do nothing! It comes off! See? Aufer Caput!" Soldier grabbed his head and pulled it off, his neck separating cleanly from his Cephalophore's Collar, which closed the bottom of his stump off. He tucked his head under one arm like he was carrying a ball, leaving Bombinomicon staring at his empty neck, which opened into a black void.
"That's a really good trick," Bombinomicon conceded. "But not better than Bomb Head! Go!"
In a flash of magic, a bomb appeared in the air at the top of Soldier's neck, where his head would be. Soldier jolted a bit as the bomb fell onto the rim of his neck, touching the flesh there, and sagging between. He shuddered, gritting his teeth so as not to spill the beans to the magic book before him that the contact felt good. His neck and the rim of the abyss were erogenous zones for the dullahan, the abyss itself provoking its own pleasant sensations when penetrated.
The bomb was smaller than the average bomb head, and its weight sat heavy against his sensitive flesh for a long moment before slipping inside and falling into the void within him. His eyes went wide, his mouth falling open, and his knees went weak at the sensation. It felt good, filling him and rippling through him in strange nonsensical ways that reminded him of the bone-deep bliss of lying back and letting a man fuck him. But. In his neck. And deep somewhere else, too.
Looking to Bombinomicon, he saw the book looking surprised. He instinctively tried and failed to clear his throat, hoping not to sound too breathless as he said, "You did not turn my head into a bomb."
"Okay so it's kind of a sloppy spell. I'm a book; what do you want? Most people have heads on their necks, buddy. Did you just eat the bomb?"
"No. I don't think so." Not eat, no. More like he just lost it inside him, like a toy without a flared base. The pleasure of the penetration had passed, but now he did feel just the slightest sensation of fullness, comfortably so. "This is a void inside me, but it's bigger than me inside."
"Is it infinite?"
"I dunno."
"You ain't exploded yet."
"Should I have?"
"That fuse ain't that long, buddy. Can you pull it out?"
"I've never really tried putting things in there before, much less pulling them out," Soldier hummed thoughtfully. "I mean, I've put things in there, but never let go of them and left them in there." After a moment, he apprehensively reached his hand into his neck and felt around. If he were alive he'd be panting, and again he clenched his jaw to keep himself from giving away how good it felt as his arm slid past his entrance, fingers groping around blindly inside. Quickly, the round shape of the bomb met his fingers, and he palmed it, pulling it a bit awkwardly back out, the thing just slightly too large to come out easily. He couldn't help a gasp at the tight fit, the way it rubbed the rim of his neck on the way out, the shiver of pleasure that rippled through him. "Feels like I'm choking," he grunted, trying to cover for his own reaction, yanking it free. The fuse was still burning, having grown no shorter in the time it was inside of him.
"Good stuff, you got yourself an extraplanar space in there!" Bombinomicon cheered. "Now put it back, quick."
Soldier shoved the bomb back in quickly, unable to hold back a soft, pleasured sound in spite of himself. If the Bombinomicon noticed, it didn't say anything about it. "An extraplanar space?" he asked, trying to divert attention from it as his knees grew more jelly-like.
"Yeah! I mean, you ain't wrong, it is a void, but it ain't infinite. It's part of you, kinda! And it looks like time don't move in there, based on that fuse. Bet you could store all kinds of good stuff in there."
"...like more bombs?"
"Buddy, you read my mind!"
*
"So it kept summoning bombs and I kept pushing them into my neck for the next hour or so. I had to come clean about how good it felt because I came, but it didn't really care because it's a book. Eventually we did reach a limit, and Basbobombibomb did some fancy math and said it's probably about ten foot square in there, give or take."
"That's hot as hell," Scout said, licking his lips. "And pretty handy. So you're chock fulla bombs?"
"Not anymore! Eventually Merasmus came in, found me messing with his fancy bomb book and started yelling and casting spells. He summoned these magical tentacles that lifted me up by the legs, and it turns out that my neck void just stays open because all of the bombs that got shoved in there came spilling out like he was shaking them out of a bag. That made me come again. And since they'd all been put in right away, when they came out the fuses kept going, and they all blew up in one big explosion that took out a big chunk of the library."
"All of that knowledge!" Medic lamented.
"That had tae be a grand aul blast! An explosive orgasm!"
"Hoo buddy I bet Merasmus was pissed," Scout chuckled.
"He was!" Soldier confirmed with a grin. "He summoned my lease and tore it to pieces in front of me, said I was being evicted. Then he was still so mad that he barfed up his own soul and threw me through a portal to the outside of the castle."
"So you been homeless all week?" Scout asked.
"Only technically. I live on base anyway," Soldier shrugged. "I'll find something by our next furlough. The real problem was that he didn't throw my stuff out with me. It was still in my room. So I had to break in to get it. I did it when he was out of the house, so I snuck into his master bathroom and left a present in the tank of his personal toilet," he added with a sinister chuckle.
"Oi, lad. When'd ye say ye did that deed?" Demoman asked. He was looking out the window. A soft green light was beginning to bleed out from under his eyepatch.
"The bomb thing was last weekend, but I went to get my stuff last night. Why do you ask?"
All of the lights in the base shut off, blanketing the mercenaries in darkness. From outside, a sickly green glow began to creep in the windows.
