Be aware, there are explicit PICTURES connected to this chapter, as well as the explicit content. To view them, go to unforth-ninawaters DOT tumblr DOT com and then enter this: post/135295954693/and-your-fore-warned-nsfw-post-cocks

Those are all pics that are traded back and forth by Cas and Dean in this story. :) Alternatively, if you read this on AO3, the images are embedded where they belong (my username is the same there as here).

Also be aware, I did my damnedest to find pictures close to what I was describing, but there was only so well I could do without spending much more time looking at porn that I cared to. (I mean, looking at porn is fun and all but I'd rather be writing and editing and posting porn). WHEN IN DOUBT MY DESCRIPTION TAKES PRECEDENCE OVER THE PICS. I'm sorry they're not all spot-on. If I had been cleverer, I'd have tracked down images and then written around them, but I wasn't that smart. Next time - while I was doing this I snagged any image I thought might be useful in the future for this 'verse...

The only time that Castiel had indicated he couldn't possibly reply to a text was the following morning. Castiel's presentation was four hours outlining the state of Sandover's international corporate contracts, four hours describing all the work Castiel had done the preceding year. The situation overall was good. After several years of Castiel looking incompetent as a result of economic forces outside of his control, now he looked good as a result of similar forces. Businesses were looking to grow, to forge new relationships, and that meant they were interested in working with Sandover. Castiel wasn't over-modest; he knew his own efforts and those of his department played a significant role in their success, but he also knew that he wasn't the only factor. As he spent the final hour discussing pending deals and his expectations for the fiscal year to come, he could look out on a sea of faces, most attentive and mildly approving, and feel satisfied that he'd done well and that his position was secure for another year.

There were no texts during his meeting, of course, nor did he receive any texts for the rest of the day.

7 AM Thursday morning, Castiel was in a working breakfast with his immediate superior, the Chief Fiscal Officer. There were only two days left of the retreat and the CFO's presentation was today, an entire day dedicated to a sweeping overview of the fiscal state of the company. In theory, Castiel was to provide backup but in practice he'd do nothing. The CFO, an older man named Joshua, was extremely competent and the preparation that Castiel and the CFO's other subordinates had done before this meeting were adequate to ensure that the CFO would not need additional support. Castiel and the other financial officers would sit at the back of the room, speak if questioned and otherwise sit quietly and attempt to pay attention to information that all of them were already thoroughly acquainted with. The long breakfast served as a final review and at the close of it they reported to the conference room, took their seats, and the day began.

Joshua's sonorous voice had a lilting quality to it. When he was angry or upset, he was impossible to ignore, but now as he spoke familiar words Castiel zoned out, elbows on the tables, hands folded before him covering the iPad he theoretically needed to take notes, feet resting flat on the floor, legs and knees properly together though the table could conceal any amount of fidgeting out of sight. The attentiveness of the attendees had flagged as the week progressed. Some members of the board had taken to glancing at their phones and more than one of Castiel's colleagues were furiously, silently typing away. Few had work that could be left idle for so many days in a row – Castiel included, but he had tackled his in the morning. The presentation proceeded smoothly, the hours compressed and dilated surreally, and Castiel focused as best he could.

The phone in his pocket – his left pocket, where he'd taken to keeping the spare – vibrated. Castiel caught his lip between his teeth. Only one person had that phone number. Eying the others around the room, Castiel took reassurance from seeing how many had their cell phones out and, hand trembling, Castiel retrieved his.

Metallicar67 (10:24 AM): Are you in public?

It was Metallicar's way of asking if this was a good time. Glancing around, schooling himself to exterior calm, Castiel felt a flash of panic.

Am I really going to do this?

His hesitation vanished. He'd done public scenes before. He loved them. There was no time when control was more essential than when the risk of a mistake would lead to humiliation or worse.

Castiel (10:24 AM): Yes, sir.

Metallicar67 (10:24 AM): Show me.

Laying his phone at a funny angle on the table, Castiel carefully staged a shot to be sure it would give no specifics away, and sent it to Metallicar.

Castiel (10:25 AM):

IMAGE 1

Metallicar67 (10:25 AM): Looks important.

Castiel (10:26 AM): It is.

Metallicar67 (10:27 AM): Color?

Castiel (10:27 AM): Green.

Metallicar67 (10:28 AM): What's your safe word, MyBoyThursday?

They'd been over this before, but Castiel was happy for the ritual. It helped settle his qualms, helped him get into the correct headspace to proceed. Joshua's voice made a steady backdrop to his thoughts, accompanied by the rustle of papers, the sound of someone typing, the windy rush of the ventilation system, the dull whump of someone tapping their foot beneath the table. The light streaming through the windows gave the scene a surreal quality, contrasting sharply with the mahogany wood of the tables, the black leather of the chairs, the crowd of seated men and women dressed in sedate colors aside from an occasional pop of brilliance where the light picked up some item of jewelry, reflected off a watch face, or glared from a cell phone screen. Taking slow, even breaths, Castiel mentally prepared himself as best he could for the unknown activities to come. His cock, hidden beneath the thick table, stirred noticeably, twitched as temptation whispered through him.

Castiel (10:29 AM): Magnolia.

Metallicar67 (10:30 AM): If won't be unable to reply for more than five minutes, send me the number 1. Otherwise, I expect you to answer me promptly. You'll get one excused mistake. After that, there will be consequences. Do you understand?

Castiel (10:30 AM): Yes, sir.

Metallicar76 (10:31 AM): To confirm, you agree that we can exchange text, images and video provided there is no identifying information in them?

Castiel (10:31 AM): Yes, sir.

Metallicar67 (10:31 AM): What is your schedule for the rest of the day?

Castiel (10:32 AM): I am currently in central time in the US. We will recess for lunch at noon, at which point I will have a one hour break to use as I will. From 1 pm until 6 pm this meeting will continue. From 6 pm to 7 pm, I will be in a debrief and unable to text. After 7 pm, I will be available. Things are likely to go later than that, though. I must be asleep by midnight.

Castiel repressed his desire to add "if that's amenable to you, sir" as he hit send. It was too early in a relationship for Castiel to allow another to dictate when he went to sleep and woke up, far too early.

Metallicar67 (10:33 AM): Sounds like we have a lot of time together today. Does that possibility excite you?

Castiel (10:33 AM): Yes, sir.

Metallicar67 (10:34 AM): Are you getting hard for me under that fancy suit of yours?

Castiel (10:34 AM): Yes, sir.

Castiel's reply was an understatement. His vivid imagination encompassed all the uses a skilled dom might make of him. Castiel was a captive, trapped in a board room that he could not leave: not to use the bathroom, not to take a phone call, for nothing short of an emergency. His situation forced him to silence and stillness. His cock strained so hard against the front of his boxer-briefs that the elastic dug into his thighs; desire curled within him and whispered his desire to be touched, to touch. Instead, he kept his face still as a mask. No one was paying attention to him and he had no intention of giving them reason to do.

Metallicar67 (10:35 AM): Show me.

It was like Metallicar could read his mind, making such a request on the heels of Castiel's vow to behave unsuspiciously. He flicked through screens to load the camera and turned the flash off so as not to betray him. Shifting casually, pulling closer to the table, he shifted the hand holding his phone to his knee, set the phone down on his quad and put a hand to his crotch. Castiel had never been more thankful for expensive suits with silent zippers. He left the button done, hooked his boxers with a thumb and freed himself. The brush of fabric over his erection caused a burst of pleasure behind his eyes, the gentle touch of his hand on his length amplified it. Aside from the minimum necessary to get through the day, he'd not touched himself since he and Metallicar began negotiating. Any other time, that would have been fairly normal for him, but with the anticipation of the last few days it felt like a life time. He blinked and forced his breathes to steadiness, knowing it was only to his own ears that he sounded unnaturally loud. Hoping there was enough light beneath the table, Castiel fumbled until he was fairly sure he'd taken the picture. Unsure what Metallicar had in mind next, he left himself exposed, trusting the table to give him privacy, and brought the camera back out. The screen showed a grainy shot that should be adequate. Heart pounding – all it will take is one of my colleagues looking left or right, just one – Castiel hastily navigated the phone menus and sent the images.

Castiel (10:39 AM):

IMAGE 2

Metallicar67 (10:40 AM): Very nice. Leave yourself out. Do not touch yourself. Keep quiet.

Castiel (10:40 AM): Yes, sir.

Metallicar67 (10:41 AM): Just so you understand, MyBoyThursday, I bought something just for you, just for me to use while I am with you. If you are a good boy and do as I tell you, I will send you video of the use I put this to.

IMAGE 3

A whimper was barely suppressed in Castiel's throat as his cock bucked and scraped against the teeth of the zipper. The toy was impressively similar to him in size and girth – Metallicar had two naked pictures of Castiel and must have used them to find a close match – and he instantly identified with it, instantly knew that Metallicar had bought that dildo to be Castiel, would only use it with him. The silicon was Castiel's surrogate. It didn't matter that he didn't know what Metallicar looked like, Castiel could envision a beautifully staged image of that cock – of Castiel's cock – plunging in and out of his dom's body. He could imagine how that would feel. So long…it's been so long... His cheeks flushed hot, he did another slow blink and controlled breath to keep from whimpering, and a bead of pre-come trailed coldly down his over-heated head, caught on the uncut skin wrinkled beneath.

Castiel (10:42 AM): I would like that very much.

Metallicar67 (10:45 AM): I thought you would. I've been thinking for two days about what I would do to you if I had you here, what I would have you do yourself since I can't tie you spread eagle to my bed. I'll admit, I've had so many ideas I can't make up my mind. Would you like to hear some of them?

Swallowing hard, Castiel struggled to keep his hands from trembling as he wrote out his reply on the small keyboard.

Castiel (10:45 AM): Yes, sir.

Metallicar67 (10:46 AM): Perhaps, by the time you recess for lunch, I'll have decided which I like the best.

Over the hour that followed, Metallicar plied Castiel with the filthiest language he'd ever seen set down. Castiel's replies were brief: "yes sir," "I understand sir," "I would like that, sir," "anything you'd like, sir," aside from when Metallicar asked him for more detail. Expertly, Metallicar teased out information on how turned on Castiel was, confirmed that no one suspected, taunted him with the consequences should Castiel make a mistake. Vivid descriptions, sometimes accompanied by Metallicar's lovely photographs, came at regular intervals.

IMAGES x3

With the same insight he'd shown since they started communicating, Metallicar seemed to understand what a powerful imagination Castiel had, how easily he translated words and descriptions into sensations and feelings.

You're like a present for me to unwrap, MyBoyThursday, in your expensive suit and tie. Presents don't move, presents don't talk. I know you'll be so well behaved for me; you'll stand perfectly still while I remove every item so slowly, so carefully, stand still while I ball them up and threw them aside like trash. If you make a sound I will ruin that fine silk tie when I stuff it down your throat. I need to take a catalog of every feature of my gift, find out exactly what treasures I now find in my possessions, isolate every imperfection that we'll need to excise. Get you down on your knees, replace your tie with my cock. Hold still. If you move I'll choke you on me when I come down your throat, but if you're good I'll mark you up, paint your pretty face white, rub it all in so you don't forget who you belong to now. Once you know it's going to be a good long while before I'm ready to go again, that's when the real fun starts. Don't you dare come, good boy, don't you dare touch yourself. No one takes care of you but me.

Lunch recess was mercifully called, but not until it was nearly 15 minutes late – a change that Metallicar clearly delighted in, as he'd been working Castiel up with promises that they both knew would find no fulfillment until Castiel could seek the semblance of privacy. The delay was torture. The room felt swelteringly hot, Castiel's shirt clung to him damp with sweat, his cock was wet and streaked with leaking fluid, his nerves were frayed, his hands trembled, and only long practice kept his distress from showing on his face.

Castiel (12:16 PM): We're breaking for lunch, sir.

Metallicar67 (12:16 PM): Describe what's happening.

Castiel (12:18 PM): I'm sitting at the table with my things packed. The room is large and there are around a hundred people present. One wall is composed of windows and looks out over a city. We're twenty two stories up. One wall is blank white save for a projector screen. The other two walls are composed glass that fronts the hallway leading to other parts of the building. My colleagues are all rising and speaking.

Castiel slid to the send button as Milton asked him his plans for lunch and he begged off. He couldn't conceive of eating, his stomach twisted with arousal that bordered into illness. As soon as she was gone, he returned to his phone screen. Concern brought a frown to her pretty face, she asked if he was feeling alright, asked if he'd received distressing news, and he wasn't sure what excuse he made, only that it was adequate to get her to leave so that he could return to his conversation before Metallicar grew displeased with Castiel's partial answer.

Castiel (12:20 PM): Sorry, someone spoke to me. Everyone is filing from the room discussing lunch plans. I cannot move until they leave.

Metallicar67 (12:21 PM): Acting pretty suspiciously, aren't you Thursday? Tell me – what exactly would your coworkers see if you stood up?

Pounding drowned out the sound of small talk as Castiel imagined Metallicar ordering him to rise and reveal his shameful condition to the assemblage. With horrible certainty, he knew that if the command was given, he'd obey it. Even ruining his career wouldn't be enough to get him to safe word out of the scene. This is why I don't get to have a regular dom in my life. This is why I can't do this with a real person. Praying that his trust in Metallicar wasn't misplaced, that Metallicar wouldn't ask more of him than Castiel should give, he typed out his reply.

Castiel (12:23 PM): They'd see that my legs are trembling. One person already observed that my hands are shaking and that I've been on my cell phone all meeting. They were concerned that something might be the matter but I assured them it was a personal matter and that, while I appreciated their concern, it was unwarranted.

He'd lost the thread of what he meant to say but decided to hit send instead of deleting and starting over. With only their words to go by there were few cues that Castiel could give as to his mental and physical state. Castiel's self-knowledge showed his reply to be disjointed, rambling, perturbed; if Metallicar had any sense of him, he'd see the same, understand the implications, and hopefully would be pleased instead of annoyed.

Castiel (12:24 PM): They'd see that my cock is out, erect, red, damp. They'd see how aroused I am right now. Because of you, sir.

Quick glances showed Castiel that everyone was out of the room or clustered around the door, talking quietly, ignoring him. Shifting his chair, Castiel angled his body away from the door, enough back from the table that, were anyone by the window, they'd see him exposed. That area of the room was empty, though, and Castiel was safe. That didn't stop his nerves from thrilling. Gripping the edge of the table so tightly his knuckles went white, Castiel used the other to hold his phone out and take a picture of himself, carefully framing it to show his dark suit, his white buttoned shirt, his striped tie, his pleated pants, and his flushed, neglected cock.

Castiel (12:25 PM):

IMAGE 4

Metallicar67 (12:26 PM): What a pretty picture you make. I can tell you've followed my directions. Do you think you've earned a reward?

Castiel (12:27 PM): That is your decision to make, sir.

Metallicar67 (12:27 PM): If I ask you a question, I expect a real reply. I know it's my decision, boy. I didn't ask for bullshit, I asked your opinion.

Castiel (12:28 PM): I don't believe I've earned a reward yet, sir.

Metallicar67 (12:28 PM): Why not?

Castiel (12:29 PM):Thus far, this has not been a situation in which it has been that difficult to maintain my self-control.

Explaining himself felt strange. Castiel had never had a dom who asked him such questions. They pushed him as hard as they wished, took advantage of how submissive he grew, and he enjoyed his scenes while they were going on. It was afterwards, when he was no longer in subspace, that he sometimes realized he'd gone far beyond his what he should have been doing. He'd never been pushed beyond what he was capable of, he still didn't know the limit on that, but many scenes he'd done had gone past what was healthy for him. Struggling with his reply to Metallicar pulled him from his headspace, reminded him that he was sitting in a conference room, the hum of voices in the hallway, his cock hanging out, his body thrumming with tension and desire.

Metallicar67 (12:29 PM): Really? You'd rather be pushed harder?

If someone walked in, they'd see him. If someone he worked with came looking for him, if someone needed him, if someone wanted to ask if he wanted lunch…humiliation and worry threatened to subsume his arousal. He was frightened, mortified, and not in a good way.

Castiel (12:30 PM): As this is our first scene, I'd prefer we not test my limits at this time.

Maybe I should stop this, maybe I should…

Metallicar67 (12:30 PM): Color?

Castiel (12:30 PM): Yellow.

Deep breaths, Cas. It's okay. He knows I'm not completely comfortable. I have to trust him. Locking his back rigid against the leather chair back, Castiel pushed the chair up to the table, hid himself once more, pulled his iPad from his briefcase and set it on the table so it would appear that he was working.

Metallicar67 (12:31 PM): I'm going to take good care of you, I promise. Put your cock away.

The firm directions helped Castiel restore his equilibrium. Reaching down, he wrapped fingers around himself to slip his cock back in his underwear. He was achingly hard, had been for hours, and pleasure flared behind his eyes even at the non-sensual touch. His ability to maintain an erection for unusually long periods was one of the things his doms liked to take advantage of, an inborn ability amplified by his willpower. In this case, though, it had been so long since he'd pushed himself, so long since he'd been in a scene. The ideas enflaming him were so enticing that he had to close his eyes against the heat coursing through his body. His breath quickened and his cheeks grew hot, his mouth open around an oh of pleasure. The band of his boxer-briefs slid abradingly down his length and an inadvertent whimper escaped into the quiet board room. Mortified, flushed, he tucked himself away, zipped his fly and set his head against the edge of the table in an effort to get back under control.

Dammit.

Picking up the phone in trembling fingers, he forced himself to type out his confession.

Castiel (12:33 PM): Sir, I made a noise.

Metallicar67 (12:33 PM): Were my instructions unclear?

Castiel (12:34 PM): No, sir.

The wait for a reply was agonizing, endless seconds certain that punishment was coming – punishment he would have to administer himself – with no guess what that punishment might be. Finally, the phone vibrated.

Metallicar67 (12:36 PM): Sit up straight, MyBoyThursday. Stay in that fancy chair of yours. You're not leaving the board room. Let your coworkers think you're working – unless one of them walks by and sees you. I was under the impression you were better at controlling yourself. You told me that you were excellent at that, yet you failed already. You're going to have to do much better to prove yourself to me. If you were wrong about yourself in that regard, how can I trust your other self-assessment? You've got the remainder of lunch to prove yourself to me, or else…

Something in the way it was written didn't cause Castiel as much distress as such an accusation might have. After their former conversation, their negotiation when they weren't in the midst of a scene, Castiel was sure that this was his dom talking, that the man texting him hadn't actually ceased to trust him. Relying on his intuition in that regard, Castiel followed the instructions, he sat up, opened his e-mail on the iPad and began to read through the backlog. He didn't know how to pretend to work, so he might as well actually work.

Metallicar67 (12:37 PM): Pull yourself out again. Run a finger – just one – from the base of your cock to the head.

Reaching under the desk with his off-hand, Castiel did as he was instructed. There was no way to remove himself from his pants without using multiple fingers, but he kept contact on his aching flesh to the bare minimum. The cold air of the room stung on the over-sensitized skin, and when he ran the thumb of his off-hand up his length, he had to repress a shudder. It was essential that he keep still, essential that he be quiet, essential that no one walking by have the least cause to suspect he was doing anything other than working. Pleasure thrummed through his body, pounded like a heartbeat in his head. His eyes were dry as he stared fixedly at the screen, his cock bucked and leaked thin liquid that made a chill trail down his length.

Metallicar67 (12:40 PM): Talk to me, Thursday.

Castiel (12:41 PM): It feels good, sir.

Metallicar67 (12:41 PM): If I walked by right now, what would I see?

Castiel (12:42 PM): A man sitting and working at his iPad and typing on his phone.

Metallicar67 (12:43 PM): Good. Are you wet for me?

Castiel (12:43 PM): Yes, sir.

Metallicar67 (12:44 PM): How does it taste?

Castiel ran a single finger over the slit at the end of his cock as a fresh bead of liquid trailed out. Bliss lit like sparklers in his vision, his sight tunneled in on the phone, and he only barely kept his composure.

Touch me, please, touch me, stroke me, let me give in to this, tell me it's alright to enjoy this, please, I need to feel everything…

…not yet. Not until he says so.

Tremors caused Castiel's hand to quake subtly as he lifted it to his mouth. He'd tasted his own pre-release before, and had his own come, and he'd done a scene that he'd had to safe word out of where he'd been forced to try other things as well. The flavor always surprised him, salty with a tang of sweet and sour, strange without being unpleasant. Pre-release was the only bodily substance other than saliva he enjoyed, though there was a certain profound satisfaction in being permitted to taste his dom's come. Overpowering thoughts swept over him, of Metallicar's release on his lips, Metallicar's cock in his mouth, Metallicar's fingers digging into Castiel's scalp as he ruthlessly fucked Castiel's face. He managed a measured blink and allowed a single breath to rush out a bit too loudly. His cock bucked violently, brushing against his buttoned suit jacket.

Castiel (12:46 PM): Salty. Earthy. A bit like mushroom, but sweet.

Metallicar67 (12:47 PM): Do you like it?

"Would you like anything, Mr. Novak?"

Castiel's head jerked towards the glass door of the room. Mr. Alfred – Alfie, to his friends – poked his head into the room, a broad grin making him look even more boyish than usual. That innocent face was one of the negotiator's greatest weapons. No one took Alfie seriously until it was too late.

"Thank you, Mr. Alfred, but I'm not hungry." Castiel's voice came out perfectly steady, measured, not a hint of what he was in the midst of. A surge of triumph and pride left him dizzy with pleasure. Alfie's mouth was moving but Castiel couldn't hear him for the rushing sound in his ears. Fortunately, no response appeared necessary, as Alfie gave him a pleasant smile and left the room.

Castiel (12:50 PM): Very much, sir.

Metallicar67 (12:51 PM): Kinda slow there, Thursday. Not doing anything you shouldn't be, are you?

Castiel (12:51 PM): I'd never do that, sir.

Metallicar67 (12:52 PM): Prove it.

Panic flitted through Castiel's mind. How was he supposed to prove his obedience? Several options passed through his mind but none seemed adequate. Finally, he took his phone and turned on the video camera. Panning the room, he showed the glass hallway down which several people strode, showed one of his hands resting on his iPad, turned the camera towards himself carefully to avoid his face, ran it down the length of his suited body as he twisted towards the window to ensure that his swollen, red, leaking cock was well lit and perfectly displayed. There could be no better proof of his obedience than demonstrating both his outward calm and his advanced state of arousal.

"As you can see, sir, I am diligently attending to my duties," he said aloud as he lingered on his cock. Knowing that his dom would watch the video momentarily made his pulse rush and his erection twitch; a fresh burst of pre-release pooled at the tip and he stopped the recording. His pulse beat wildly as he sent the video.

Castiel (12:54 PM): For your edification, sir.

Metallicar67 (12:57 PM): You have a very nice voice, Thursday. I'd like to hear more of it. Are you sure you're comfortable sharing something that personal with me?

It hadn't even occurred to Castiel to worry about speaking, though he'd sworn to himself beforehand not to send any identifiable pictures or other information that could be traced back to him. Lost in the moment, he hadn't even thought about the potential risks. There was no changing the decision now, and besides, if hearing Castiel speak brought Metallicar pleasure…

…thoughts like that are what get you into trouble every time, Castiel…

By doing this scene at all, Castiel was entrusting Metallicar with his entire career. In comparison to that, what difference did it make if the man heard his voice?

Castiel (12:58 PM): I trust you, sir. Further, I expect to hear yours this evening when you provide me with the video using the toy you bought.

Metallicar67 (12:59 PM): Pretty cocky, aren't you? Watch out, that kind of confidence will get you in trouble.

Castiel (1:00 PM): I am optimistic that my service will be satisfying. Of course, in the end it will be up to you. I presume nothing.

Metallicar67 (1:01 PM): You're doing very well, Thursday. I am pleased with your obedience thus far. Your colleagues are gonna come back from lunch soon, right?

Castiel (1:01 PM): Any time now.

Metallicar67 (1:02 PM): As a reward, you may continue to use one finger on yourself as long as you want. Don't come, though.

Tension Castiel hadn't even noticed slid from his shoulders as he swept his thumb through the wet coating of pre-release covering the head of his cock and ran the finger smoothly up and down his length. It was hopelessly inadequate yet he thought he'd come if he kept at it for more than a few minutes. After so much teasing, so much desire, after Metallicar's modest praise of his performance, he was wound tight enough to pop. He kept his touch slow even as his thoughts begged for more. To distract himself, he opened his e-mail, tapped out a one-handed reply to a subordinate, each exhalation stuttering, each heartbeat a burst of blood and light and rapture.

Metallicar67 (1:07 PM): Awful quiet over there, Thursday.

Castiel (1:08 PM): As per your orders, sir. My colleagues are returning to the room and taking their seats.

Metallicar67 (1:09 PM): Are you still touching yourself?

Castiel (1:09 PM): Absolutely.

Metallicar67 (1:10 PM): Good boy, Thursday. Such a good boy for me.

Castiel (1:10 PM): Thank you, sir.

Metallicar67 (1:13 PM): We're going to change things up for the afternoon. You have earned some small amount of trust based on your performance thus far. As such, you are no longer required to reply to each of my texts, but I will continue to send you them. If I ask a question you will answer. You will stay hard. Do you understand?

Castiel (1:14 PM): Yes, sir.

Maintaining an erection for hours was uncomfortable at best and dangerous at worse, but Castiel had done scenes where he'd stayed agonizingly hard for much longer periods and he knew he could handle it. It wouldn't be fun while he was trapped in perpetual anticipation, but the release at the end would be worth it.

Metallicar67 (1:15 PM): Color?

Castiel (1:15 PM): Green.

Well, no, he amended, the first release would be wretched, it always was after waiting so long, but the second would be worth it. He prayed that Metallicar was familiar enough with these kinds of scenes to know that, prayed that Metallicar would be pleased enough with Castiel's submission to allow him even one release. Going to sleep unsatisfied after such a long day would be torture.

But he would do it if Metallicar told him to.

"Everyone have a nice lunch?" Joshua asked with a smile that would have done a politician proud. There was a murmur of general assent. "That's good, because I own you for another four hours." Polite laughter greeted the joke. Forcing his gaze up, Castiel looked to the front of the board room and continued to run a single finger up and down himself. He wondered how long he could tease himself before he had to stop.

His limit proved to be an hour straight.

The afternoon meeting session afforded Castiel ample time to test himself. Metallicar sent Castiel texts every few minutes, teasing him with delicious words and more of his gorgeous photography. His occasional questions primarily checked Castiel's level of arousal or his color, which was solidly green. He was fine – agonizingly aroused, terrified of getting caught, desperate for release, his vision tunneling; he was high on endorphins and just enough out of subspace to recognize how deeply in subspace he truly was. But other than that, he was fine. He was under control.

There were close calls, many of them, the worst being when Joshua asked Castiel to expound on a point he'd hardly registered the first time it was said. Castiel stood with difficulty, his legs trembling, and carefully timed his ascent such that he clasped his hands before himself at precisely the same time as his cock would have come into full view. The wide cuffs of his jacket and the scoop of his sweaty palms were all that were between him and exposure and ruin. In a steady voice, he managed to come off as entirely coherent and cogent, though within minutes after he couldn't have repeated his words or even said what topic he'd spoken on. When he sat again, he barely suppressed a sigh of relief. He wished Metallicar could have witnessed that. There was no way to send the information in a text without coming off as boastful, so he held his silence save to answer Metallicar's question and refrained from touching himself for more than ten minutes, knowing that if he did he'd come on the spot.

I can be good. I can wait. I can keep this a secret. I can restrain myself. I can resist this. I can be what Metallicar needs me to be.

Such thoughts sustained him through the long hours as pleasure slowly gave way to discomfort, nausea, and pain. Bodies weren't meant to sustain such an intense level of arousal for so long; with his delayed release came increasing distress, but he could do this, he knew he could. Metallicar's comments grew increasingly licentious the clearer it became that Castiel was straining, and Castiel rose to the occasion, thrived on his ability to meet every challenge.

Castiel (6:24 PM): The meeting is concluding, sir. As I mentioned, I now must attend a debriefing with my boss, during which time I will not be available and will be unable to check my phone. I anticipate finishing around 7:30. Do you have any instructions for me during that time?

Metallicar67 (6:25 PM): You may put yourself away, provided you can do so silently. What is your color as regards maintaining your erection?

Pain like pinpricks spread throughout Castiel's body as he touched his desperate cock. Each slight brush against his flesh amplified to feel ten times, a hundred times more powerful. Pulling the elastic over his hardness felt like he was rubbing himself with sandpaper, placing himself so that standing wouldn't reveal his arousal away felt like closing a vise over the sensitive flesh. He knew exactly what that felt like. This might actually be worse, he thought, focusing all his energy on controlling his breathing and keeping the flush from his cheeks. The faint metallic ping of his zipper going up sounds like nails being driven into his coffin. He had no idea how he was going to walk, his thoughts growing increasingly panicky as he realized any moment he'd have to try.

I'm alright, though. I can do this.

Castiel (6:26 PM): Green.

"Novak, are you feeling well?" Alfie appeared as from nowhere standing across the table from him, lay a hand uninvited on Castiel's forehead. "I thought it was weird when you skipped lunch and now your cheeks are flushed – I think you're running a fever."

"I'm fine," said Castiel more harshly than he meant to. Several people around him turned, startled by his curtness, and Alfie pulled away as if burned.

"Maybe you should skip dinner," Ms. Milton suggested sympathetically, rising, shoving her tablet in her purse as she did. "You've been working very hard, none of us came to the board meeting after a week in Morocco and four days in China."

"I said I'm fine," Castiel repeated more calmly. "I will have plenty of time to rest later this evening." Being forced to interact with his colleagues helped calm him, helped push away the pain eating as his senses, and with meager confidence he pushed away from the table and rose with hardly a quaver. Nonetheless, his coworkers watched as if they expected him to pitch on his face. How must I look right now? Based on what Milton said, merely exhausted. Exhaustion is excusable. The reality, that I'm on the verge of begging any one of them to jerk me off, would be less socially acceptable. He gave each of them a glance, reassured himself that all looked nothing but worried, and surprised himself by managing a perfectly steady step, another, another. His phone vibrated.

Metallicar67 (6:30 PM): Maintain your arousal and return to your room as soon as possible.

Metallicar67 (6:31 PM): I trust you, MyBoyThursday. Do you understand?

Castiel (6:31 PM): Yes, sir. I will text you as soon as I'm available.

The declaration was exactly what Castiel needed to hear. His coworkers might doubt his physical state but Metallicar believed in him, believed in his self-assessment, believed him capable of self-control. Each step grew easier as he followed Alfie and Milton from the room. They and the others attending dinner made small talk; Castiel even found the wherewithal to join in. Every appearance of normalcy helped him ignore his desperate arousal, helped the minutes between him and relief pass more quickly.

I can do this. I must do this.

Last chapter will go up tomorrow. :)