We all masturbate, it's nothing to be ashamed of. It's also something most prefer to keep private. But sometimes, people forget to knock while we're in the middle of things, and awkwardness ensues.
* Post with your character's name and fandom in the subject line * Others reply, stumbling in on you. * You pick a reaction from the list below. (Or roll 1-10!) * PROFIT!
REACTIONS:
➊ EMBARRASSMENT Yeah, someone just caught you in a very private act and you kind of wish the ground would swallow you up. Now.
➋ ANGER How dare someone barge in on you without knocking! You'll give them a piece of your mind right now.
➌ EXCITEMENT/EXHIBITIONISM happens to be a major turn-on for you, so you'll just continue. Maybe even ask them to give you a hand, you never know...
➍ APATHY Big deal, it's not like they've been living in a bubble where they never knew masturbation existed, and if they were they had to find out about it sometime.
➎ SQUICK Either it was a family member who just walked in on you or you just feel so utterly dirty at having been caught doing something so personal.
➏ DELAYED reaction You didn't even notice they were there until after you finished.
➐ DERAILED REACTION Oh no you've been--what is that on their head? Wait, the world's ending now? D-did you just see that unicorn? Worry about being caught later, figure out what the hell is going on first.
➑ FRUSTRATION COME ON, EVERY TIME!
➒ RELIEF Thank GOODNESS someone came by! Otherwise you'd have had to stop and go grab that toy/pillow/remote for the annoying stereo yourself. Also they could maybe swap discs because this movie isn't really doing it for you. What do you mean it's inappropriate? It's not like you're asking them to watch.
"Neither?" His voice cracked on the word, his heart rate ratcheting up at either option. Both, his brain said, loudly. It was obvious it had been too long without blood if he was thinking like that.
The sound he made was not a happy one, bordering on a sobbing groan as his cheek slid partway down the door. She would, too. She'd stand there until his crotch exploded from lack of use.
"I hate you."
There was nothing for it. He'd have to try to tuck himself away and deal with whatever Derek wanted. And if he got any lip for anything, they could all just excuse his non-furry ass and probably figure out easily enough why he was in a pissy mood.
Slowly, he pulled the parted fly of his pants together, hand pressing himself tight against his stomach as he began to zip himself up. He breathed a sigh of relief when he made it without catching anything. Buttoning up, he realized that wasn't exactly going to hide the problem.
"I'll be out in a minute." He needed socks, shoes, and a big shirt to hide what wasn't going away.
Chuckling to herself, she shrugged, "It's your choice to hate me, Stiles. You could stop lying to yourself and actually get something out of this, but you're more stubborn than I thought."
She leaned against the wall across from his door, "I'll just wait here. For you and your painful erection." Because, she did hear that sigh of relief.
"Hey, I've seen the claws and the fangs. No way I'm letting those near sensitive parts." Bantering he could do. The needy, oversensitive desire, he couldn't handle. As much as he fantasized about sex and sex with girls, the reality of it was still something that had his heart skipping a beat. One part terror, one part need.
"How about we don't mention my... erection. To anyone." Maybe they wouldn't notice. Riiiiight.
Shirt on and hanging over the front of his pants, he slid his shoes and socks on and went over to open the door, feeling his palms go suddenly clammy at the thought of having to look her in the eye after this whole embarrassing scenario.
Erica shook her head, "Again, if I can smell it on you..."
Shrugging, she let her logic fade away for the moment, waiting for him to join her on this side of his bedroom door.
Frowning, her brow furrowed, "Besides, my impulse control has nothing to do with your need for release. I am perfectly capable of handling myself - unlike someone whose erection I've been banned from discussing."
He opened the door and leveled a glare at her. See? He could do glarey. So what if she'd seen his cock and he'd been thinking about that red lipstick staining certain body parts for the last ten minutes? "What exactly are you smelling? Why doesn't it smell like what I always smell like?"
Erica pushed off of the wall and moved toward him. The shirt was amusing her as her head canted, "You smell like effort. Sweat, arousal, hormones. It's not the same as guy who worked out at the gym effort either." They were guys, they'd recognize it. She knew it because all she hung out with were guys and it paid to be able to use those things to her advantage.
Like now.
"You usually smell like soap, fruity gum, and Scott. Not Scott but the scent he gets from his room. Dirty laundry, grass." She stood right in front of him, nearly evaluating him. "It's different."
She was close, too close. Close enough that he could pick up the little nuances of her scent. It wasn't helping. "Do you like, catalog what I smell like or something?"
He was more bothered that they'd know what he'd been doing, or what he'd been trying to do before he'd been interrupted. Did they always know? They'd never said anything.
"Can I cover it up?" He was curious, but it was hard not to let his eyes flick down to her lips when he asked, watching them smile and how they formed words.
Her smirk flashed on her features, "Catalog it? No. I just prefer to know who is behind me before I turn around." It helps when you have your back to the world and Erica had learned one thing in all of her years of torment in high school - always know who is standing behind you.
Watching him grow more nervous she was shocked that all of her threats and discussion hadn't killed his erection, but maybe it was that very thing that was keeping it up. "I think you're screwed, Stilinski. If you try to cover it up, it'll just smell like all of those things and whatever you Febreeze over yourself."
The male erection was a mysterious and evil thing. It cropped up at the worst of times when they first started, bringing about potentially devastating embarrassment factors. When a little more time had passed and a guy got more familiar with it, they were sucked into the fact that erections ruled their lives. Getting one meant all thoughts were on it and the speedy resolution that was needed.
"If I was screwed, I wouldn't be in this situation." There went his mouth again. He was seriously going to staple it shut.
Tsking softly, Erica shook her head, "At least you're not lying this time." She was close enough to him to touch him, so she did. Intent on making his life even more difficult and possibly risking Derek getting upset with her for taking this long to bring Stiles. She hadn't gotten a text from anyone yet, so they probably just assume Stiles is being Stiles.
Her hand reaches to the nape of his neck, brushing her fingers up against the short hairs that get a bit longer toward the base of his skull. "If you're going to go by that definition, by the way, I really doubt you've ever been screwed."
Did his eyes just roll back into his head? Possibly. He might have also blacked out for a microsecond. The light touch to the back of his neck felt like it was connected directly to his crotch, the sensation trickling down and making him throb painfully behind the trap of his pants.
Stiles, oddly enough, wasn't embarrassed about the fact that he still had his v-card, and when he could see again (thank god), he looked her in the eye, trying to ignore the way goosebumps were breaking out all over his body. "You say that like it's a bad thing."
Fingers scratched into his hair, an idle bit of contact as she smiled at him, "I don't think I associated anything with it other than implying fact over fiction.'
Her head canted, letting her fingers splay against the back of his head, there was a brief moment where she realized that she could clutch his head and yank it backward to knock him out and then haul him (erection and all) to Derek. Pushing that impulse down, she instead stepped in closer to him.
"There's nothing wrong with inexperience until you need experience."
What? Why was she stepping closer? She'd gotten what she wanted, hadn't she? Him all trussed up and uncomfortable and willing to go along to Derek. Why was she still trying to kill him? "Are you speaking from experience or inexperience?" Oh, sure, great. Way to go, Stiles. Antagonize the werewolf who was way too close and --
He jerked his head up, realizing too late his eyes had traveled down from her lips and were enjoying the view down the front of her low cut shirt. He was a dead man.
"You know, you are having a lot less control over where you're looking today. I seem to recall your determination in looking me only in the eye not so long ago," Erica's voice teased a bit, but it was still low and slightly intimate given the distance she was from him.
Then, rather than keeping that breath of space between them, she pressed up against him. "You're also still asking the wrong questions, you might want to tell that to whatever part of your brain is bypassing your mouth filter."
That wasn't fair. He could look her in the eye... when he hadn't been interrupted and wasn't currently about to explode behind his pants.
When she pressed up against him, he let out a whimper, breath catching in his throat while he watched her lips move. "What are the right questions?" His voice broke no less than three times during those five words.
Each breath she took made her lungs expand and her chest rise against him more. Fingers stayed in place, as she let her eyes flicker from his eyes to his mouth, his neck, back to his eyes. "You know now, you're going to smell like me, too."
Exhaling, she smirked, "Arousal, sweat, effort, and Erica... but that'll be it. No heavy scent of sex or the content hum of completion that comes from experiencing something. If only you could figure out the right question."
He'd smell like her? From this tiny little touch? Did it matter? Maybe, when mixed with the rest.
It was the way her mouth moved when she said 'arousal' that had his eyes locking on it, his tongue coming out to wet his suddenly dry lips. Then there was the emphasis on 'comes' and he felt himself twitching in his pants again. She had clearly crawled her way up from Hell and had been put here to torture him. "Right question?" If it was possible, the remaining blood left his brain and headed south at the feel of her breasts pressing against his chest.
"Repeating it again isn't actually going to count for anything."
Erica didn't move away from him, if anything her hand started to pet at the back of his head as though he was a small cat that was needing attention. "Do you want to leave to go see Derek, now?"
What little brain function he had left was going into not letting his arms come up and grab what he couldn't have. It was hard to keep that from happening when her being so close and the way she was stroking his neck were sending one set of signals while her words were sending others. He was only human, and even if he wasn't, he had a feeling that wouldn't make this situation any more bearable.
He meant to say yes. Honest. He opened his mouth to say it, but it got stuck in his throat and he found himself shaking his head instead. What? Again? Dammit, brain!
Canting her head, she smirked at him, "Have I rendered you speechless? I didn't think there'd be a day with that."
Her free hand, the one not stroking against the nape of his neck slowly, moved to rest lightly against his leg. Placed on denim, she set it there for a moment as she listened to his pulse racing. To each swallow that he forced and every soft whine and whimper he was trying to stifle.
"Do you want help with the situation that's pressed against me?"
The palms of his hands broke out in a sweat and he clenched and unclenched them, looking down at her with eyes gone a little glassy. There was a war going on between his dick and his brain; one screaming for him to run away as fast as he could while the other wanted to make him fall on his knees and beg her to make it all better.
He really couldn't help the way his hips shifted, pressing into her just a little when she touched his leg. His eyes fluttered again, his heart feeling like it was going to jackhammer out of his chest. "I... I... ah--."
Work, mouth. Do something. Say something. A strained whine was all that left him.
She was pretty certain that he was going to have a stroke. Possibly a heart attack. Embolism. Something horrible was going to happen and it was going to be because he was too turned on and refused to do anything about it with her present.
Her hand shifted to the front of his thigh, the tips of her fingers pressing in a moment of physical man-handling. "Do you want to go back into your bedroom?"
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bakerstreet2013-05-11 06:59 pm
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Her hand dragged away from where it had been scratching at the door, tracking up toward the handle and circling it.
"Are you going to open the door or just silently pray for my hand to go back to creating vibrations for you?"
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Her hand stopped moving instead she pulled away from the door, though she didn't go very far.
"I'm going to wait here. As long as it takes, I'm not going anywhere."
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"I hate you."
There was nothing for it. He'd have to try to tuck himself away and deal with whatever Derek wanted. And if he got any lip for anything, they could all just excuse his non-furry ass and probably figure out easily enough why he was in a pissy mood.
Slowly, he pulled the parted fly of his pants together, hand pressing himself tight against his stomach as he began to zip himself up. He breathed a sigh of relief when he made it without catching anything. Buttoning up, he realized that wasn't exactly going to hide the problem.
"I'll be out in a minute." He needed socks, shoes, and a big shirt to hide what wasn't going away.
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She leaned against the wall across from his door, "I'll just wait here. For you and your painful erection." Because, she did hear that sigh of relief.
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"How about we don't mention my... erection. To anyone." Maybe they wouldn't notice. Riiiiight.
Shirt on and hanging over the front of his pants, he slid his shoes and socks on and went over to open the door, feeling his palms go suddenly clammy at the thought of having to look her in the eye after this whole embarrassing scenario.
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Shrugging, she let her logic fade away for the moment, waiting for him to join her on this side of his bedroom door.
Frowning, her brow furrowed, "Besides, my impulse control has nothing to do with your need for release. I am perfectly capable of handling myself - unlike someone whose erection I've been banned from discussing."
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And could he cover it up with his dad's cologne?
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Like now.
"You usually smell like soap, fruity gum, and Scott. Not Scott but the scent he gets from his room. Dirty laundry, grass." She stood right in front of him, nearly evaluating him. "It's different."
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He was more bothered that they'd know what he'd been doing, or what he'd been trying to do before he'd been interrupted. Did they always know? They'd never said anything.
"Can I cover it up?" He was curious, but it was hard not to let his eyes flick down to her lips when he asked, watching them smile and how they formed words.
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Watching him grow more nervous she was shocked that all of her threats and discussion hadn't killed his erection, but maybe it was that very thing that was keeping it up. "I think you're screwed, Stilinski. If you try to cover it up, it'll just smell like all of those things and whatever you Febreeze over yourself."
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"If I was screwed, I wouldn't be in this situation." There went his mouth again. He was seriously going to staple it shut.
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Her hand reaches to the nape of his neck, brushing her fingers up against the short hairs that get a bit longer toward the base of his skull. "If you're going to go by that definition, by the way, I really doubt you've ever been screwed."
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Stiles, oddly enough, wasn't embarrassed about the fact that he still had his v-card, and when he could see again (thank god), he looked her in the eye, trying to ignore the way goosebumps were breaking out all over his body. "You say that like it's a bad thing."
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Her head canted, letting her fingers splay against the back of his head, there was a brief moment where she realized that she could clutch his head and yank it backward to knock him out and then haul him (erection and all) to Derek. Pushing that impulse down, she instead stepped in closer to him.
"There's nothing wrong with inexperience until you need experience."
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He jerked his head up, realizing too late his eyes had traveled down from her lips and were enjoying the view down the front of her low cut shirt. He was a dead man.
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Then, rather than keeping that breath of space between them, she pressed up against him. "You're also still asking the wrong questions, you might want to tell that to whatever part of your brain is bypassing your mouth filter."
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When she pressed up against him, he let out a whimper, breath catching in his throat while he watched her lips move. "What are the right questions?" His voice broke no less than three times during those five words.
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Exhaling, she smirked, "Arousal, sweat, effort, and Erica... but that'll be it. No heavy scent of sex or the content hum of completion that comes from experiencing something. If only you could figure out the right question."
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It was the way her mouth moved when she said 'arousal' that had his eyes locking on it, his tongue coming out to wet his suddenly dry lips. Then there was the emphasis on 'comes' and he felt himself twitching in his pants again. She had clearly crawled her way up from Hell and had been put here to torture him. "Right question?" If it was possible, the remaining blood left his brain and headed south at the feel of her breasts pressing against his chest.
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Erica didn't move away from him, if anything her hand started to pet at the back of his head as though he was a small cat that was needing attention. "Do you want to leave to go see Derek, now?"
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He meant to say yes. Honest. He opened his mouth to say it, but it got stuck in his throat and he found himself shaking his head instead. What? Again? Dammit, brain!
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Her free hand, the one not stroking against the nape of his neck slowly, moved to rest lightly against his leg. Placed on denim, she set it there for a moment as she listened to his pulse racing. To each swallow that he forced and every soft whine and whimper he was trying to stifle.
"Do you want help with the situation that's pressed against me?"
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He really couldn't help the way his hips shifted, pressing into her just a little when she touched his leg. His eyes fluttered again, his heart feeling like it was going to jackhammer out of his chest. "I... I... ah--."
Work, mouth. Do something. Say something. A strained whine was all that left him.
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She was pretty certain that he was going to have a stroke. Possibly a heart attack. Embolism. Something horrible was going to happen and it was going to be because he was too turned on and refused to do anything about it with her present.
Her hand shifted to the front of his thigh, the tips of her fingers pressing in a moment of physical man-handling. "Do you want to go back into your bedroom?"
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