In a corner [George]
Prompt: Any fandom, any characters, He would use him whenever and wherever he wanted, toying with his most private parts almost casually.
Fandom: Being Human (UK)
Characters: George Sands
Written for a prompt on Darkfest 2011
In a corner
He's not sure of how this started. He's not sure he wants to know, either.
It's not as if he didn't like it; he wants this as much as Mitchell does, and it's good to know that they can be this... this wathever without having to name it, without saying a word. It's just that, sometimes, he feels weird. Bad. As if this shouldn't be happening, as if he was losing control, giving up a part of himself -and he knows what it is. It's the wolf, howling and screaming and, fuck, it doesn't want this. It doesn't like it. It likes to be in control.
And there's his hand just there, and this is not the place, this is not the time. George is just standing near the door, next room full of patients and nurses, and the hand won't retreat, and it's touching him in all the right places, for it knows what to do. It knows what he likes, what makes him howl; it has done it so many times he lost count a while ago.
George knows this is not right. George knows he should be doing his work, helping out -with what, with carrying things and people and maybe having a brief conversation with someone who will look you down?-, but he just can't move. He's about to come, and he bits his lip and prays, wishes there'll be nobody in the next minutes, seconds, just until he can walk to the bathroom and wash away everything -the stains, the humiliation- and start again with his life. Pretend this hasn't happened, pretend it hasn't happened before -pretend he doesn't like it.
It's just two days before the full moon, though, and the wolf is strong and the hand strokes, and he closes his eyes -he doesn't want to see, doesn't want to watch- and lets out a growl, and that's the moment he comes, a bitten back howl and a bleeding lip. He breathes, after it, in and out, and tries to recover, to get back to himself. The wolf is satisfyed; it settles back again, to the back of his own mind. It can wait until the full moon, after this, George thinks. Then, he takes his hand out of his pants.
Fandom: Being Human (UK)
Characters: George Sands
Written for a prompt on Darkfest 2011
In a corner
He's not sure of how this started. He's not sure he wants to know, either.
It's not as if he didn't like it; he wants this as much as Mitchell does, and it's good to know that they can be this... this wathever without having to name it, without saying a word. It's just that, sometimes, he feels weird. Bad. As if this shouldn't be happening, as if he was losing control, giving up a part of himself -and he knows what it is. It's the wolf, howling and screaming and, fuck, it doesn't want this. It doesn't like it. It likes to be in control.
And there's his hand just there, and this is not the place, this is not the time. George is just standing near the door, next room full of patients and nurses, and the hand won't retreat, and it's touching him in all the right places, for it knows what to do. It knows what he likes, what makes him howl; it has done it so many times he lost count a while ago.
George knows this is not right. George knows he should be doing his work, helping out -with what, with carrying things and people and maybe having a brief conversation with someone who will look you down?-, but he just can't move. He's about to come, and he bits his lip and prays, wishes there'll be nobody in the next minutes, seconds, just until he can walk to the bathroom and wash away everything -the stains, the humiliation- and start again with his life. Pretend this hasn't happened, pretend it hasn't happened before -pretend he doesn't like it.
It's just two days before the full moon, though, and the wolf is strong and the hand strokes, and he closes his eyes -he doesn't want to see, doesn't want to watch- and lets out a growl, and that's the moment he comes, a bitten back howl and a bleeding lip. He breathes, after it, in and out, and tries to recover, to get back to himself. The wolf is satisfyed; it settles back again, to the back of his own mind. It can wait until the full moon, after this, George thinks. Then, he takes his hand out of his pants.