Masturbation Monday
May. 6th, 2013 12:04 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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comment_ficHello again! I'm your host for this week, ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
mahmfic. Monday getting you down? Try that all natural cure: masturbating! (and what little creativity I have has flown out the window). I don't think I need to explain wanking any farther, except that it is the Merry Month of Masturbation... Let the wank begin.
Simple rules:
No more than five prompts in a row.
No more than three prompts from one fandom.
Make sure your prompt is spoiler-free until at least one week after the original airing/publication date.
If there are spoilers in your fill, warn and leave at least three spaces.
Format your prompts like so:
Fandom(s), character or pairing, prompt.
Some examples:
Firefly, Jayne, I'll be in my bunk
The Hobbit, ensemble, circle jerk
tag=masturbation
mahmfic. Monday getting you down? Try that all natural cure: masturbating! (and what little creativity I have has flown out the window). I don't think I need to explain wanking any farther, except that it is the Merry Month of Masturbation... Let the wank begin.Simple rules:
No more than five prompts in a row.
No more than three prompts from one fandom.
Make sure your prompt is spoiler-free until at least one week after the original airing/publication date.
If there are spoilers in your fill, warn and leave at least three spaces.
Format your prompts like so:
Fandom(s), character or pairing, prompt.
Some examples:
Firefly, Jayne, I'll be in my bunk
The Hobbit, ensemble, circle jerk
tag=masturbation
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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Date: 2013-05-06 04:06 am (UTC)no subject
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Date: 2013-05-06 04:18 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-05-06 04:19 am (UTC)The Professionals, Bodie/Doyle, stakeouts can be really boring
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Date: 2013-05-06 04:20 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-05-06 04:20 am (UTC)Person of Interest, Reese/Finch, relieving the tension to avoid doing something stupid
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Date: 2013-05-06 04:21 am (UTC)Ripper Street, Jackson/Bennett, Jackson likes to watch.
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Date: 2013-05-06 04:22 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-05-06 04:23 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-05-06 04:23 am (UTC)Person of Interest, Reese/Finch,sometimes he can hear him.
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Date: 2013-05-06 04:31 am (UTC)no subject
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Date: 2013-05-06 07:35 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2013-05-06 08:34 am (UTC)Fill - SPN Ficlet
Date: 2013-05-07 09:30 pm (UTC)Characters: Castiel
Rating: NC-17
---
This wasn't the first time he'd found himself here. And as often as Castiel promised himself, this probably wouldn't be the last, either.
He tipped his head back, eyes on the stars as he slumped against the backseat of the Impala. One hand reached out, gripped the shoulder of the driver's seat. The other teased at his fly, long fingers dancing over the belt buckle, the button, the metal zipper.
He could will these obstructions away as easily as he'd willed himself into the car, but he let them linger. He liked how his anticipation built with the forced confinement, liked the way it made his vessel's body flush with heat. He braced his feet, legs spread wide as he traced the outline of his arousal.
He parted his lips, licked them, sucked in a deep breath and shuddered at the touch of cool air to his damp skin.
Fingers pinched the zipper tab and pulled.
He slipped his hand inside, practiced movements quickly freeing him from the confines of his boxer briefs. He hissed at the bite of zipper teeth against sensitive skin, but didn't move to give himself more room. He enjoyed the contrast, the sharp nips of pain dotting the blanket sensation of pleasure as it washed over his skin. His body shuddered, the hairs on his arms and legs pulling taut and standing erect.
Castiel took himself in hand and squeezed.
His eyelids slammed closed and his head slipped to the side, chin resting atop his shoulder. His fingers were a little calloused, his palm dry, and where his hand moved his hips followed. His breathes came faster now, his pulse picking up speed, and Castiel felt dizzy as he relinquished himself to the instincts of his borrowed body.
He made a sound somewhere deep in his throat, a whine or a moan, he wasn't sure. Didn't have the experience to tell the difference. The first time he'd let a sound escape his lips he'd been startled and his face had flushed with shame, fingers faltering in their steady pace. Now he relished the little sounds, the pants and gasps and hiccups as he neared the end. He liked the way they felt as they pushed against his throat, the strain to be quiet coupled with the knowledge that he didn't have to. There wasn't anyone around to hear. This was Castiel's time.
He snuck a glance at the motel then, just to be sure that he was still alone. Shrouded in his wings, he was invisible to anyone who wanted to look, but he kept his eyes on door 238. He wouldn't put it past the Winchesters - he wouldn't put it past Dean - to somehow know what he was doing. Where he was doing it.
Castiel could almost imagine the shocked horror on the human's face if he were discovered. The widening of his green eyes, the round O of his lips, the way his ears would flush at the tips.
Castiel groaned and bit down on his shoulder, brows furrowed at the image. He stroked himself with abandon, body rolling in time to his pounding heart.
Pressure was building low in his gut, flaring out across his nerves. The soles of his feet burned inside his shoes and sweat dotted his forehead. He could feel everything, his senses overwhelmed with the rasp of his clothing, the fluttering of his eyelashes, the lewd sound of hand on flesh pounding into his eardrums.
It was devastating and intoxicating and Castiel swore it was too much, swore he'd never allow this again, this complete surrender of his grace to this vessel. Swore he wasn't making plans to return tomorrow night.
He came across his knuckles in long, hot spurts.
Castiel froze, muscles taunt, grip almost unbearably tight as he let himself feel, let himself be overtaken and submerged.
He slid, boneless, until he was laying vertical across the backseat, staring blankly at the center console and the tape deck. There was nothing, no thoughts or shame or worry - that would come later. Right now everything was pleasant. Quiet.
Castiel nosed at the seat beneath him, took in the familiar scent of salt and leather, and rested.
---
End.