Chapter Text
The clock reads 1:03AM. Jerry knows he needs to get back to bed, he has a math test first thing tomorrow, but fuck is he hard. The vague trace of a wet dream lingers in his mind, some naked lady sucking him off. The erection strains against his boxers and he knows he can't fall back asleep with this...not comfortably at least. The obvious plan is to just tug one out and be done soon enough to get a good nights rest, so he sighs and reaches down to the hard mass beneath the sheets. He pulls down his boxers and lays a hand over his length, the feeling of skin against skin makes him almost immediately squeeze his legs together. Just think sexy thoughts, get it over with and get back to bed, how hard could it be? Tasha Yar, Marj Dusay, Bill Dickey....Bill Dickey?! He pauses. Its hard to admit, even to just himself, but the thought of Bill has entered his mind during these activities before. On one hand, he wouldnt be able to live with himself if he jacked off to the thought of a man, especially Bill! But...on the other, he knows it makes him feel a way no woman could. He checks the clock again, 1:05AM. Ultimately, getting his beauty sleep is the top priority at the moment, so he begins to move his hand again. He thinks of Bill, tame thoughts at first. Just his face, his hair, his voice, it already feels a bit nasty. He thinks back to the twilight zone marathon, how during the 2nd night he could see the outline of Bill's dick in his pants. Jerry's hand moves faster. He thinks about what it would be like to kiss him. To touch him. To feel him. Jerry wonders what Bill would sound like in bed. Would he be whiny and submissive, or would he be masculine and tough? The former seems like the more probable answer, or maybe Jerry only sees it that way because its the option that turns him on the most. The more lost he gets in these physical sensations, the less he worries about the mental scenarios. Jerry can feel his pleasure coming to a head, he quickly reaches his free hand over to the tissues on his bedside table but unfortunately his orgasm came sooner than he could grab the tissue. Hot gooey liquid spurts out of his shaking cock, his eyes squeeze shut and his body tenses. When the pleasure leaves him, the post-nut clarity hits him like a hard slap on the face. He feels gross. He's a fag, he's disgusting, he's a creep, and above all he's too tired to keep thinking about it. He wipes the cum up as best as he can, but realistically he knows its gonna be crusty in the morning. He checks the clock one more time. 1:17AM. He pulls up his boxers and shuts his eyes, hoping he'll forget about this when he wakes up.