First commenter on the day's drabble(ish) gets to provide pairing and prompt for the next one. You can choose from Spike/Xander, John/Rodney and Sam/Dean or choose one of them as a solo character. Give me a word, or mood, or something to think on and I'll see what I can do. I may expand the possible selection if this works and I actually get my mojo firing on all cylinders.
Title: Shower Scene
Concrit: darkhavens @ slashverse.com. If you spot a typo, please feel free to tell me in comments. I want you to!
Disclaimer: Not mine, never will be. No harm, no foul, no money made.
Summary: Dean gets horny in the shower
Notes: Written off katbcoll's prompt of: Dean showering (by himself), horny.
Dean steps into the motel shower, closes his eyes and tries to imagine the needle sharp sting from powerful jets of too hot water. In reality, it's barely warmer than the hour-old cup of coffee he's left sitting on the bedside table, and the pressure is a joke.
Tepid water trickles sluggishly over his scalp and through his hair, carrying thick grey ash and charcoal dust and enough spider silk to spin a parachute. It traces cleaner lines through the grime on his skin, running almost as thick as mud before it reaches his ankles.
It takes three applications of cheap motel soap before he feels he's rid of all the filth he's carried around these last two days. And he finally has the time to feel something else. He lathers up one hand and sends it trailing slowly southward.
Sam's in the hospital, determined to sit with the sole surviving little girl until her aunt gets in from Omaha. He's there for the night, which means Dean's here all alone, and while the opportunity's there to sprawl out naked on the bed, he's really starting to enjoy the way the water feels like warm, slow fingers sliding slowly down his spine, drawing out the bone-deep stiffness and the aches he's accrued chasing down their latest target.
His soapy hand moves down over his smooth, tanned abs, across his belly that's maybe not as hard and flat as Dean would like ('not as flat as Sam's' a tiny voice supplies), but it's nothing shabby - he's certainly never had any complaints. His fingertips trace the thin line of hair from his navel to the thatch of wiry curls at his groin and his pulse increases just a little in anticipation.
With his left hand braced at head height on the wall beneath the showerhead, he leans into the flow and curls his right hand round his cock. His sigh is more 'at last' than arousal, but vigorous short, sharp strokes deal with that in short order and pretty soon he's open-mouthed and panting, water dripping off his nose onto his swollen bottom lip.
"Oh yeah, just like that… yesss!"
The telltale pressure's building fast at the base of his spine, and he's about three seconds from coming when the bathroom door squeaks open and a gust of cold air sends shivers rippling up his spine.
"Dude, aren't you done yet? The aunt called in a cousin to sit vigil by the bedside so I could come on back and take a shower, and you're… Are you jerking off in there?!"