Anyways, I actually never expected to get past the first round, so I'm really surprised that I'm still in the running and have to write another ficlet! The two fics that were eliminated were good, and it's sad to see them go! And the winner, insertcode11, definitely deserved to win ;)
So, long story short, here was my entry. The genre I had to write was historical and the kink was bondage. Hope you enjoy! As always, comments make me super-happy, so please share :)
Title: I Prefer Ice
Word Count 1500
Warning(s): Bondage, dub-con, abuse of authority
Summary: It’s the turn of the nineteenth century, and Dr. Padalecki has found that ice baths help his patients who struggle with mental weakness. If his methods are a little bit unusual, it’s no one’s business but his own.
“Stop struggling,” Dr. Padalecki says, his voice low but not harsh. Jensen wants to respond with something vulgar, but his breath has been caught in his throat ever since he was strapped to the table. The cloth restraints are tight enough that he isn’t really moving, but he likes the feeling of control even though it’s obvious he has none.
Dr. Padalecki puts his hand on Jensen’s bare chest, his hand wet and cold, but oddly comforting. “Trust me,” he says. “Ice baths have been proven to be an effective treatment for hysteria.”
Jensen looks up at him, his doctor, his captor, his only human contact, and finally manages to speak. “This isn’t an ice bath,” he responds hoarsely.
Dr. Padalecki raises an eyebrow and wipes his hands on his jacket. “They might not be the same methods employed by Dr. Beaver, but I assure you I know what I’m doing.”
Jensen doesn’t have any response to that. On one hand, Dr. Beaver had been one for keeping Jensen in his bath until he could barely move from the cold, and he doesn’t want to go back to that. On the other hand, Dr. Padalecki’s instrument table has a lot of different items that certainly aren’t conducive to what he says he’s doing.
When he turns around again, the doctor has fished another ice cube out of the bucket that’s sitting just behind him. Jensen shivers in anticipation, because this game has been going on for too long, and he doesn’t like it. However, Dr. Padalecki is immune to his discomfort, because all he does is slowly drag the piece of ice down the exposed scar on Jensen’s right wrist, a relic of his father’s expensive straight razor and the product of the very same mental incapacity that landed him in the asylum in the first place.
Jensen shivers at the touch of cold, but the sensation isn’t altogether unpleasant. Dr. Padalecki tsks his tongue, a sharp noise above Jensen’s ragged breathing. “Stop pulling away,” he says, dragging the ice down Jensen’s pulse point again. “We were getting somewhere.”
“This isn’t helping,” Jensen chokes out as the trail of water warms on his skin.
“I’ll be the judge of that,” Dr. Padalecki says, softly. “I believe we were talking about you, not me.”
Jensen stays stubbornly quiet.
“You are,” Dr. Padalecki continues, “in fact, the one who is under my treatment for hysteria after your attempt at self-harm.” The ice follows the scar again, and Jensen is starting to lose the sensation of it due to the cold.
Jensen still doesn’t answer.
“And last week, you told me something interesting in the middle of our session,” Dr. Padalecki says, fishing another ice cube out of the bucket, trailing this one up Jensen’s left wrist over another ugly pucker of skin. “Would you care to elaborate?”
“No,” Jensen bites out.
Dr. Padalecki makes this little noise in the back of his throat, and Jensen feels his heart jump. The ice is slowly making its way up his arm, as the doctor swirls it around in little patterns.
“What was it that you told me?” Dr. Padalecki muses to himself as he grabs yet another piece of ice. “Something about being too pretty?” He places his fingertips at the hollow of Jensen’s throat, holding them there as Jensen shivers again.
“I never said that,” Jensen spits, trying to arch away from Dr. Padalecki’s touch. “Bastard.”
“Language,” Dr. Padalecki warns sharply. The ice is making a slow track down Jensen’s chest, and he knows the next destination from experience. “Something about unnatural desires, wasn’t it? About sin?” Jensen feels a flush of embarrassment as his words from their last session come back to him. All Dr. Padalecki does is swirl the ice around the tightened nub of Jensen’s nipple, which elicits another carnal response from Jensen’s body that he absolutely does not like.
These feelings are exactly what landed him here in the first place.
“Stop talking,” he pleads. Dr. Padalecki takes no notice, pausing only to fetch another piece of ice so he can pay attention to the other side of Jensen’s chest.
“I think you’re partially right, you know,” Dr. Padalecki says, almost conversationally, as he ignores the reaction his hands are causing to Jensen. “You are very beautiful. Almost like a woman.”
“I’m a man,” Jensen says, but his mind is getting muddled. Dr. Padalecki’s ice is trailing down his stomach, pausing at the dip of his bellybutton.
“I know,” Dr. Padalecki says, “but you’d look good in a dress, wouldn’t you? Ripe for the taking. Pretty as a picture.”
Jensen can’t say he wasn’t expecting it when Dr. Padalecki’s hand, cool and wet, wraps around his arousal, but he keens loudly all the same. There’s still that damn piece of ice, hard and freezing, between them and even though he doesn’t want to, even though he really can’t thanks to the restraints banding his torso and upper thighs to the table, he can’t help his hips from making little aborted thrusts into Dr. Padalecki’s grip.
“Unnatural desires?” Dr. Padalecki questions again, slowly moving his hand up and down Jensen’s length. “You never did tell me what they were.” Jensen needs more, but he can’t bring himself to ask.
“Did you want to have violent relations with a woman?” Dr. Padalecki asks, his movements speeding up ever so slightly before they stop entirely so he can get another piece of ice. He’s back in a flash.
“Or did you wish to harm someone or something without reason?” he queries, rubbing at Jensen harder still. Jensen’s throwing his head from side to side, because as wrong as he knows it is, it feels so primally good.
“Or,” Dr. Padalecki continues, pausing his hand to look Jensen full in the face, “did you want a man? Like you have me now?”
“Please,” Jensen pleads, though he’s not sure what he’s asking for: a reprieve or a continuation.
Dr. Padalecki raises one eyebrow and then lets go of Jensen’s erection entirely, and Jensen swears he sees the doctor’s mouth quirk into a small smile as Jensen lets out a small hitching breath.
Another piece of ice, only this time Dr. Padalecki slips it between his lips, which is something he’s never done before. He sucks on it obscenely before taking it fully into his mouth, making sure that Jensen sees every movement.
“Did you want a man’s mouth on you?” he asks, and without waiting for an answer, he bends awkwardly, just low enough so his lips brush the tip of Jensen’s arousal.
Jensen can’t even manage anything more than a strangled moan as Dr. Padalecki slowly takes him into his mouth. He can feel that pang of the ice and the warm wet of Dr. Padalecki’s mouth around him, and he’s never done this before; never even let himself think about it.
The room is quiet for a couple of minutes apart from the slurping that Jensen can hear above his quick breathing. The ice has long since melted but Dr. Padalecki isn’t pausing to get another, just uses the flat of his tongue to pull Jensen’s erection further into his mouth until Jensen’s shaking from the sensation of it. He keeps trying to pull free of his bindings, needing to touch, to bring himself further into the Dr. Padalecki’s mouth, and he’s too far gone to know that he shouldn’t be thinking such things.
Just as he’s about to fall off the precipice, as his toes are curling and his back is arching, Dr. Padalecki pulls off with a quick pop.
“Ah, ah,” he says. “You never answered my question.”
And Jensen needs. Dr. Padalecki’s hand is back, his grip too light to get Jensen to his release.
“Yes, damn you,” he spits, almost howls. “Yes to everything. To being pretty and wanting those things.”
“What things?” Dr. Padalecki prods.
“I want to be taken by a man,” Jensen explodes. “I want to be taken like a man takes his wife, and I want it so much I can’t think about anything else sometimes.”
For a terrifying second, Jensen thinks the doctor wants more of an answer and won’t finish, but Dr. Padalecki smiles all of a sudden, wide and devilish.
“Therein lies the root cause,” he says, and his mouth is on Jensen again, sudden and perfect, and he’s been on edge since he came into the examination room because he knew what was coming, so there’s no way he can stop himself. His release is sudden and hard and all encompassing, and by the time he gets his senses back, Dr. Padalecki is standing in front of him, still smiling, licking some of Jensen’s seed from his lips.
“That’s good progress for now, I think,” he says. “I’ll see you next week.”