Someone wrote in [community profile] tf2kink 2015-06-11 01:48 am (UTC)

Re: Dub-con molestation

i hope this is okay? sort of realizing i didn't quite nail the threatened part, but still. enjoy.

---

He didn’t remember agreeing to this.

He did, but he didn’t.

It was all a haze. He remembered the taste of Johnnie Walker Black Label on his lips and the dark of the mixing room he worked in, raw materials scattered across his work table. Spy’s face had been masked by cigarette smoke, and his words accented in too heavy of French to understand.

“You insisted,” Spy whispered to him now. Demo might have been able to overpower him were he not too drunk to try. He wasn’t so drunk that this would be all a blur tomorrow though. Oh no. He would remember this in the morning. Heaven help him, he would remember.

“You begged for it.” Tall and terrible with cologne soured by the scent of smoke, the Spy cornered Demo against the wall. His gloved fingers squeezed at Demo’s cock through his clothes. It was such brusque touch, too forceful with no care as to whether it was painful or not.

Demo turned his face away. “Enough,” He whispered.

“That’s not what you said last night.” Spy laughed at him.

He didn’t remember agreeing to that though. He wouldn’t have agreed to it? Would he? He felt his face burning with a flush of shame. Spy was reaching for his belt, undoing the buckle with knowing hands.

Demo considered trying to push him off, he really did, but he found his fingers trembling and shaking. He was no good at this, this up-close and personal stuff. Not in the bedroom and not on the battle ground. There was a reason he threw bombs and stood back to watch them blow. If he could get as far away from this situation as possible he would, but he felt so weak.

A fresh shame creeped up the back of his neck as Spy dipped his fingers into Demo’s black pants. Demo whimpered, whining low in his throat. “…be… be careful.” He whispered. If there was no other way out of this, he might as well ensure it ended well for him; were that possible.

Spy only laughed, grasping him roughly through his boxers. “You like it rough though, non?” Spy didn’t tease him so much as torment him, vulgarly grabbing and squeezing in a way more aggressive than sexual. The worst of it was when he grabbed Demo’s balls through the cloth of his boxers and squeezed them tight. The terrible pain of it made Demoman squirm, attempting in earnest to get away.

“Alors, there it is.” Spy laughed.

He knew what he was doing, the sick French fuck. Maybe it was true. Maybe they had done this last night. Maybe Demo had pleaded for it. The pain had sent blood rushing to his cock and now he was starting to show signs of an erection. How would Spy know he liked to be hurt if he hadn’t agreed to this already?

It was just that he didn’t remember…

It only took a few more painful squeezes and well timed rough strokes before Demo was rock hard. He twisted, face burning red-hot. He hated himself in that moment for wanting more of this. He hated that Spy knew just want to do to turn him on. He hated that he craved the pain in this way. He hated that he hadn’t even felt a hand on his cock yet, just unkind touches through thick fabric, and yet he was still so desperate.

“Do you know how cute you are when you beg?” Spy asked him. He slid his hand away and to Demo’s great humiliation he actually missed the touch. The spy brought his hand to his own mouth and bit down on the tip of his gloved fingers. He pulled his hand free, and spit the glove aside. It was flesh that reached back down to find bare flesh. He slid his hand under the waistband of Demo’s underwear.

Demo could not help the way his hips jerked forward to meet Spy’s fingers, though he found himself ashamed at his own eagerness. Demo whined again, and the noise indicated just how pathetic he felt in that moment. He was weak to Spy’s advances.

“Beg,” Spy whispered.

Demo wouldn’t. He wouldn’t. He wouldn’t be humiliated like that.

Spy teased the head of his hard cock ever-so gently, with a subtle fingertip tracing over the soft sensitive skin. Demo’s low whine turned out into a flat out whimper and his traitorous body jolted with the pleasure of it, lit alive and wanting more. The tips of his ears and back of his neck were hot with a blush. He couldn’t believe himself. He couldn’t believe he was doing this. If anyone caught them…

Demo cried out, an actual cry, like he might suddenly burst into sobs. Lord, if anyone caught them he would never be able to show his face among the other mercs again.

“Hurry,” He whispered. His words were thick with his own accent and the booze he drank made him slur.

Spy only teased him more, eliciting more sob like cries. “Beg.”

Demo didn’t want to. God he didn’t want to. But they had to get this over with less someone come stumbling upon them. It was panic that gripped him and forced the words from his throat, not need.

“Please,” he whimpered. He could feel hot tears burning behind his eyes. It wasn’t bad enough that he was doing this but he was actually begging for it to? Demo had been through hell and back, he’d lost an eye for fucks sake. He’d done some damnedable things in his time but this took the cake. His humiliation was raw and ripe and he felt so fucking ashamed, but onward he begged. “Please, please… gods, Spy, please.”

It seemed as though Spy took pity on him, because all at once his feather light teases turned into a rough snatch of Demo’s cock. He yanked on the sensitive flesh of it dry with no spit or lube to ease the way. It ached, and it hurt, but Demo loved it. Flushed with shame and embarrassment regarding his own preferences, he arched his back into the pain and let himself love it.

His orgasm was one big ache, burning through him from the pit of his belly out the tip of his cock. He came, making a mess in his boxers and on Spy’s hand. Demo’s breath was uneven, and his muscles clenched and spasmed until he felt weak. It hurt, but it was done. He shoved Spy off of him.

Fumbling with his fingers he tried to do his belt buckle up again, but he couldn’t see the notches through the blur of his tears. He cursed Spy to the depths of hell in the back of his mind.

“You really don’t remember agreeing to this?” Spy asked curiously. He produced a handkerchief from seeming nowhere to whip the jizz from his hand.

Demo didn’t deign that with a reply. He turned a cold shoulder to the Frenchman and would have started walking if his knees didn’t feel week.

Spy laughed, softly at first, but his cruel laughter grew. “That’s because you didn’t. Don’t get so drunk next time, mon amor. You are too easy to take advantage of when you’re drunk…”

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