Chapter Text
You grip your cock, hissing in a breath as you lean against the cold shower wall, beginning to jerk frantically like always. You need the orgasm, quickly. You don’t want your Dad finding out at home, and you /certainly/ don’t want Dave or his Bro finding out here. You’re probably being paranoid, but you can’t help it. Better safe than sorry anyway. Best to get it over with quickly and carry on. A week with the Striders didn’t seem like that long to go without jerking off, but here you are, handling your bathing suit area like candy’s going to come out of it. You lick your lips and shut your eyes, letting the shower water envelop you as you start to fantasize.
Liv is always a good place to start; the actress, not the bunny! You think of her in Armageddon, of the ample sustenance provided by her madness peaks, or way down South, down under....You bite your lip, thinking of that high waisted white underwear she had on...classic...and imagine Ben Affleck’s calloused fingers dipping in; the large hand and arm attached, up to his fit oil-rigger-turned-astronaut’s chest...
Your mind is starting to wander, like it always does, to other things. Fuck, now you’re thinking about broad shoulders, about strong arms holding you. Liv doesn’t have either of those things, get with the program! You make a small noise in your throat, your brow furrowing as you try to think manly, woman-laying thoughts. Just get it over with, come on....
There’s the sudden sound of the bathroom door shutting, and you actually squeak. Oh god, hasn’t anyone heard of knocking?
“Chill man, just brushing my teeth.” It’s Dave’s Bro’s voice, and your start to panic even more. Him knowing what you were doing in his shower would be way worse, you’re pretty sure. You nearly slip on the tile, but there’s not much room to fall and you easily catch yourself, one hand still on your dick. You quickly take it away, even though it’s probably impossible to tell what you were doing through the frosted glass.
You can barely see Bro, he’s just a tall tan blob interrupted by a bar of black at waist level. He must just be in his underwear. The thought sends a jolt to your uncooperative dick, and you quickly turn to face the corner of the shower, not bothering to answer the older man. You’re already flushed from the hot water and your extracurricular activities, but you think you manage to go a few shades redder.
As you listen hard for sounds of him leaving you vaguely pantomime some shower-type actions, scrubbing under your arms, using one of those sponges on a stick to get your back. Even though all they have here in the way of shower supplies is a bar of soap that looks like it was squashed together from the slivers of a dozen other bars and a bottle of AXE shampoo. You probably look like a complete idiot, but it’s better than being caught dick-handed. Finally, “Happy showerin’” comes Mr. Strider’s deep drawl, and there’s the click of the door shutting again. You breathe an audible sigh of relief and turn so you can lean back against the wall.
That would have been...disastrous. Despite the shock to the system that had been, you’re still hard. And as you calm down, the pressing need to orgasm comes back, thrumming at your groin and brain insistently. Okay, you can do this, just be quick about it. Think of Liv, her red dress clinging to her skin in the breeze, fluttering open to reveal... this isn’t working. You grunt a little in frustration.
Fuck, who are you even kidding? You think of Dave’s Bro, tall and fit. You fill in the blanks of that blur. Does he have a lot of scars? What would they feel like? No! Don’t get bogged down in the details, you can’t afford to take your time. You pick up the pace even more, stroking almost painfully as you approach your peak. You think about his hands, calloused and huge, covering you, holding, fondling.
Oh god, this is so wrong and gay. You give a tiny moan of frustration as you rapidly approach the edge, hand moving at breakneck speed and eyes shut tight, your whole face is scrunched up in what could easily pass for an anguished expression as you force yourself towards the conclusion. Almost there....
Almost....
And then.....
“You’re doin’ it wrong.”