HT100 Flash Fiction Challenge #13 -- Under Cover of the Night: Personal Pavlov
A two for one deal today, an entry forrustler's flash fic challenge and a story for smut day.
During the height of Operation Toby, season two Keller does a little musing and masturbating after lights out.
Personal Pavlov by Maverick
~*~*~*~*~
The hack yells, “Lights Out,” and Em City is cloaked in darkness. Locked up inside this tiny little room in the gray dullness that is “night” here in Oz, it becomes easier to forgot to keep your guard up because it’s just you and the other poor chump you’re housed with. Of course, you’re intimately aware of what horrors can go bump in the night when it’s just you and your podmate behind a locked door.
But you don’t see me as a threat, at least not anymore. You see me as a friend, confident, someone you don’t have to worry about stabbing you in the back. Even after all this time in Oz, you trust blindly. I envy you that, even as I use it against you. Because baby, I’m more lethal than Vern could ever dream to be. Vern’s brand of torture...it’s about violence and power. Mine’s all about the seduction. About using what you want, what you need against you.
You see, I do my best work at night. Human nature is a power to be harnessed and lucky for you, I’ve got just the lasso to do it. Vern thinks that alcohol will be your downfall, but he’s wrong. You want comfort, you crave touch, it’s written all over your face. Oh, you do your face up pretty every morning with crazy paint, but by lights out that makeup been chipped away leaving only sad eyes and a weariness of a man defeated. A man who wants a drink and needs a fuck in equal measure.
I hear you toss and turn above me, another nightmare yanking you out of your slumber. It’ll be a little while before you can go back to sleep, so I get down to the business of getting off. Flipping off the covers, I spread my legs wide and slip off my boxers. Normally, I wouldn’t bother taking them off, but I don’t want this muffled. I want you to hear every stroke of my hand on my cock, every slap of skin on skin. I want you to hear my harsh breaths and moans as I get close, oh so close and then slow down to make it last, to draw it out. I want you to smell my sweat and my come as it overpowers the stale air of the pod. I want you breathing the smell of me until it’s burned into your nostrils, until your mouth waters from it.
I brace my feet down on the bunk and arch my back, snapping my hips to make my cock slide in and out of my tight fist. The bed springs creak and groan in cadence with my rhythm. There is no way you can mistake what I’m doing. But you say nothing. I can feel you squirming around, trying to tune it out. But you can’t, and you don’t really want to. Your labored breath, your aching balls, and your hardening dick don’t lie. I know you want to touch yourself, to join me in this. And I also know you won’t. You’ll deny yourself this simple pleasure, playing perfectly into my hands. You see, I’m your personal Pavlov, baby. I’m gonna have you drooling and begging before too long. Just like the addict you are. And when it happens, you’ll be the one to come to me, and that will make the victory all the sweeter.
So sweet in fact, the thought of that is all I need to finish what I’ve started. Three more strokes and I’m shooting into my hand, hard and fast. I bring my hand to my mouth and lick the come off my fingers before rolling over and closing my eyes.
Just as I’m nodding off, I hear you drop down out of your bunk and pad over to the sink. You splash cold water on your face before heading back to bed. You pause for a moment before hoisting yourself up. I know you're staring at my exposed ass. I curl into the fetal position, giving you a better view and I can hear you shudder as you step up into your bunk. It’s gonna be soon Beecher.
Soon, you’ll be mine. And that thought makes my spent dick twitch as sleep overtakes me.
~fin~
During the height of Operation Toby, season two Keller does a little musing and masturbating after lights out.
Personal Pavlov by Maverick
~*~*~*~*~
The hack yells, “Lights Out,” and Em City is cloaked in darkness. Locked up inside this tiny little room in the gray dullness that is “night” here in Oz, it becomes easier to forgot to keep your guard up because it’s just you and the other poor chump you’re housed with. Of course, you’re intimately aware of what horrors can go bump in the night when it’s just you and your podmate behind a locked door.
But you don’t see me as a threat, at least not anymore. You see me as a friend, confident, someone you don’t have to worry about stabbing you in the back. Even after all this time in Oz, you trust blindly. I envy you that, even as I use it against you. Because baby, I’m more lethal than Vern could ever dream to be. Vern’s brand of torture...it’s about violence and power. Mine’s all about the seduction. About using what you want, what you need against you.
You see, I do my best work at night. Human nature is a power to be harnessed and lucky for you, I’ve got just the lasso to do it. Vern thinks that alcohol will be your downfall, but he’s wrong. You want comfort, you crave touch, it’s written all over your face. Oh, you do your face up pretty every morning with crazy paint, but by lights out that makeup been chipped away leaving only sad eyes and a weariness of a man defeated. A man who wants a drink and needs a fuck in equal measure.
I hear you toss and turn above me, another nightmare yanking you out of your slumber. It’ll be a little while before you can go back to sleep, so I get down to the business of getting off. Flipping off the covers, I spread my legs wide and slip off my boxers. Normally, I wouldn’t bother taking them off, but I don’t want this muffled. I want you to hear every stroke of my hand on my cock, every slap of skin on skin. I want you to hear my harsh breaths and moans as I get close, oh so close and then slow down to make it last, to draw it out. I want you to smell my sweat and my come as it overpowers the stale air of the pod. I want you breathing the smell of me until it’s burned into your nostrils, until your mouth waters from it.
I brace my feet down on the bunk and arch my back, snapping my hips to make my cock slide in and out of my tight fist. The bed springs creak and groan in cadence with my rhythm. There is no way you can mistake what I’m doing. But you say nothing. I can feel you squirming around, trying to tune it out. But you can’t, and you don’t really want to. Your labored breath, your aching balls, and your hardening dick don’t lie. I know you want to touch yourself, to join me in this. And I also know you won’t. You’ll deny yourself this simple pleasure, playing perfectly into my hands. You see, I’m your personal Pavlov, baby. I’m gonna have you drooling and begging before too long. Just like the addict you are. And when it happens, you’ll be the one to come to me, and that will make the victory all the sweeter.
So sweet in fact, the thought of that is all I need to finish what I’ve started. Three more strokes and I’m shooting into my hand, hard and fast. I bring my hand to my mouth and lick the come off my fingers before rolling over and closing my eyes.
Just as I’m nodding off, I hear you drop down out of your bunk and pad over to the sink. You splash cold water on your face before heading back to bed. You pause for a moment before hoisting yourself up. I know you're staring at my exposed ass. I curl into the fetal position, giving you a better view and I can hear you shudder as you step up into your bunk. It’s gonna be soon Beecher.
Soon, you’ll be mine. And that thought makes my spent dick twitch as sleep overtakes me.
~fin~