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The Midnight Sexual Frustration	By : LadyMango Category: 1 through F > The Big Bang Theory Views: 16479 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own The Big Bang Theory or any of it's characters. I am not making any monies from this fic.

Chapter List
- 1-The Midnight Sexual Frustration
- 1
Authors Note:

I think Sheldon is Asexual which sparked the idea for this story. Some asexuals masterbate and others don’t - I guess it depends on libido or something. I’m gonna say that Sheldon does, otherwise I’d have no story here.
I did a bit of research on asexuality and I found this interesting thread on what some Asexual people masterbate to and I used it as reference. http://www.asexuality.org/en/index.php?/topic/9980-masturbating-as-what-do-you-think-about-when-masturbating/
The bit about the rectal exam is based on Series 5 Episode 17 – The Rothman Disintegration
I’m really sorry. This fic is so silly but it was fun to write.
~~~
Sheldon turned onto his side and let out an irritated sigh as he opened his eyes to glance despairingly at his alarm clock. Just as he had feared - he should have been fast asleep hours ago, not wide-awake like this. This sleeplessness was going to ruin his carefully planned routine and he knew he’d be intolerably tired tomorrow at work if he did not drift away into slumber very soon. What if he yawned in public and someone saw his oddly shaped uvula? The horror of it made him close his eyes tightly and pull his quilt tighter around himself, willing himself to fall asleep but his irritation only increased as he lay there, bored and extremely aware of the tick of the clock as seconds turned into minutes.

But there was something else nagging at him aside from the boredom and the incessant ticking, something he really didn’t want to have to deal with at this time. His body was heated up with arousal and he really didn’t have the patience right now to take care of what he saw as an inconvenient and vulgar need. He should be sleeping! Not pandering to such base, mundane needs!

To Sheldon the act of self-pleasuring was humiliating but he did have to give his body release every now and then - if he wanted to get any sleep, at least. Masturbation was the best way to get rid of the feelings of arousal and taking care of himself was a welcome alternative to partaking in sexual activities with another person. For Sheldon, sexual gratification was a private matter and the thought of having someone else around was unthinkable.

Sheldon had never been sexually attracted to either the male or female form, never felt the need to touch another or to be touched in return and it had never concerned him that he was not what others would refer to as ‘normal.’ He had no wish to be normal and ordinary like everyone else, he was special and Sheldon was glad to not to be a slave to this base need of finding a sexual partner like the rest of the populace. Why dwell on sexual intercourse, which he had no interest in when there were more important, scientific wonders to discover? A much better use of his time and energy!

He’d never really put much thought into analysing his sexuality, he was how he was, and he was pretty damned amazing, all truth be told. The world needed his magnificent intelligence and he was glad to not feel the need to waste his time chasing after sexual conquests like everyone else around him seemed to obsessively do. His friends would get so much more done if they did not worry themselves with the pursuit of sex and instead concentrated on their chosen scientific paths, he almost pitied their slavery to their genitalia. Howard might even have a doctorate by now if he had not been so busy chasing the ladies, Sheldon decided, but with the emphasis on might, of course. No, Sheldon was above all that nonsense.

Except he wasn’t, was he. He was lying here, unable to get to sleep because his body was insisting he indulge it. Almost angrily, he shifted in bed, turned onto his back and frowned with a growing sense of defeat as his pyjamas rubbed and twisted against his sensitive chest, stomach and groin. The weight of the quilt over him did nothing to dispel the situation and he knew he was going to have to give in and take care of himself or he’d get no sleep at all, just end up lying here in perpetual torment.

With a defeated sigh he pushed his hands down under the quilt and hooked his thumb in the waist band of his pyjama bottoms, tugging them down his thighs. He lifted his hips up to aid the movement of the pyjamas over his ass, the action made his cock rub up against the quilt above him.

The bedsheet under him was cool on his rear and his legs as he took his cock into his hand and started to stroke it. He resented his body for making him do this. He wanted to get this over with as soon as possible so that he could finally get some shut-eye.

Masturbating was not always such an annoyance of course, usually it was quite relaxing, helping him to unwind and de-stress. He’d just think about nothing except how good stroking himself felt, but on this occasion clearing his mind did not seem to be working for him. He could not relax, he was irritated at being deprived of his sleep and his impatience with the act as well as his desire to get this out of the way as quickly as possible did nothing to help him reach the goal of an orgasm. His heart was not in it at all and his wrist was starting to hurt.

Irritated he stopped stroking himself but the desperate ache continued and he found himself yet again pumping his cock whilst his other hand drifting down and fondled his balls. He tipped his head back, trying his best to relax, enjoy himself and most importantly, stop thinking about what time it was. His mind drifted and he thought about a conversation Amy had all but forced him into. She was his girlfriend, platonic of course, and Sheldon had thought that she shared his own aversion to the act of sexual intercourse, it had certainly seemed so when they first met, but she had proved this assumption wrong by constantly trying to get him into her bed. He had made it clear that he was not interested in a sexual relationship - with her or anyone else – but even after accepting this she still felt the need to ask personal questions about his sexuality.

Maybe it was the Neurobiologist in her, or that she was just as obsessed with sex as the rest of society seemed to be, but she felt the need to label him and put him in a box – namely, a boxed marked, ‘Asexual’ – and learn about him and from him. She’d said her curiosity was all in the name of science but Sheldon thought she was just being nosey and that she was enjoying talking about it a bit too much. She’d asked if he masturbated and he had given a simple and to the point reply of, “I can assure you all the equipment works,” which she seemed to take as permission to ask what he thought about during the act. He’d answered with the truth – nothing – to which she had been flabbergasted and had immediately started going into great detail about what she thought about before he quickly stopped her, insisting fervently that he really didn’t want to know.

“But how can you think off nothing? Something must turn you on - a person or even a sexy scenario? What do you think about to make yourself ejaculate-”

That was as far as he’d allowed the conversation to go. But now he thought of that conversation and wondered if she might be right. She knew a lot about how the brain and the body worked so maybe he should give it a go.

Technically, as Amy was his girlfriend Sheldon thought that if he were to think about anyone it should probably be her but the thought of Amy seeing him like this was humiliating, degrading and did nothing to help him reach orgasm, if anything it was hindering it. As for any physical contact, even in his fantasy he had to send her off to have a shower, brush her teeth, and gargle with mouthwash which he supposed wasn’t very sexy or romantic. No. This was not working.

Who else could he think about? Who else could he tolerate for extended amounts of time without them getting on his nerves? Leonard. Yes, he’d do. Send him off to wash his hands first though. Pretend it was Leonard’s hands stroking his cock. But wait, had he used anti-bacterial soap?! He could have caught god-knows-what (if god existed) from Penny. Sheldon had seen so many men leave her flat she was bound to have caught something! No, Sheldon didn’t like the thought of Leonard touching him. At least he knew his own hands were clean, he’d given them a good wash and had a shower before bed. He found it awkward enough hugging someone, let alone allowing them to grope him!

Maybe he needed to think about someone that he admired, someone who was his equal, rather than someone who was just a friend. Who was he a fan of? Spock! Okay, so thinking about Spock did make him excited most of the time, just not in the way that was desired right now but it was worth a try. It was only logical. He imagined Spock dressed in his blue uniform being teleported into his bedroom and moving to sit on the edge of his bed. The thought of meeting Spock filled Sheldon with joy but he soon realised that it was even worse to fantasise about someone he looked up to, it was far too humiliating to think about them meeting him whilst he was in a state of arousal. Plus, would Sheldon catch some kind of space disease from Spock? And what if Spock were in the throes of Pon Farr?! The thought of being confronted by his hero, aroused and possibly violent, wanting Sheldon to ‘return the favour’ was not what he had signed on for. Back to the enterprise with you. Or the Planet Vulcan for that matter.

This was stupid. Amy had been wrong, thinking about someone did not assist during this sordid act, in fact it was only a hindrance. But Amy had also said that thinking of a sexy scenario might do the trick and help him to get off. But Sheldon didn’t really find anything sexy, did he? Quantum physics made him happy, he’d even said it was like looking at the universe naked and he’d much rather think of that than an actual person nude.

He continued to touch himself, stroking his cock with one hand and rubbing his thighs with the other. His hand trailed across his stomach as numbers and equations flashed in front of his eyes. It seemed to be doing the trick, it was distracting him from the late hour and his moody contempt for being forced to take care of his body’s needs. All his annoyances were forgotten and all that existed was the numbers and the pleasure driving through his body.

But he started thinking a bit too deeply and trying to solve mathematical problems that he had been working on for his work. His hands slowed to a stop without him even realising it as his brows crinkled in deep thought as he scrawled on the whiteboard of his mind.

Sheldon snapped out of it and forced himself to think about the most pressing task at hand instead - taking care of his arousal. He realised his mistake, he should be fantasising, not trying to work out difficult mathematical problems which only distracted him from his true midnight task. But what fantasies would fill him with excitement? Getting rare first editions of his most favourite comics? Joyful! Firefly being commissioned for a new series? Thrilling! He could feel the adrenaline pumping already.

He felt himself smile and relax, letting out a contented sigh as he sped up the movements on his cock with one hand and rubbed his chest with the other, trying to build up towards that final pleasure that he needed so badly.

His mind went blank for a moment and all he could feel was the pleasure taking hold of him. His hand moved up to his neck and his fingertips ran circles at his throat while the grip around his cock tightened. A little moan escaped his mouth and he bit his lower lip, careful to keep himself quiet so that Leonard wouldn’t know what he was doing. He bit his finger and then sucked it into his mouth.

His thoughts were interrupted by the memories of the time he had performed a prostate exam on himself – he’d certainly never allow anyone else to perform the exam - and had found it far less uncomfortable than he had expected, even strangely pleasurable and he wondered if it might feel good to finger himself now. He remembered the tips that he had told Siebert at work – A: trim your nails, which he had luckily done that very morning, and B: butter makes a good lubricant. Well, he was not going all the way to the kitchen to retrieve some butter so he was sure the saliva on his fingers would make a good second choice.

He shifted his long legs and pushed a slender finger inside of himself. He drew in a sharp breath at the odd sensation then slowly started to move his finger in time with his other hand which was still pumping his cock. He let out a quiet little whine. He was right, it did feel good. He sped up the thrusts as he got used to the invasion and even started to roll his hips as he felt himself getting closer and closer to release.

His mind started to wander and he latched onto another fantasy. He imagined the pride of finally validating one of the chief predictions of superstring theory, just like he’d tried to do at the North Pole. Others would be amazed by his wit and superior intellect, looking up to him and praising him for his inspiring contribution to mankind. He was admired by all, not just by his inferiors (almost all of mankind) but also by his equals, like Stephen Hawking, and the thought of their admiration filled Sheldon with deep satisfaction.

He imagined being presented with a Nobel Prize whilst surrounded by adoring fans. They would sweep onto the stage, surrounding him, congratulating him, patting him on the back, he could feel their hands on him as he himself held tightly to his prize. All around him, smiling faces, all turned adoringly to him, closing in on him, and amongst them is Leonard, a picture of awe and affection and he tells him, “well done,” and that he is amazing and Sheldon feels his ego and his pride swell. Leonard’s arms wrap around him and pull him into a hug. So tight, so warm and snug, and Sheldon melts into the embrace, for once not worrying about his phobia of germs. He holds his medal tightly in his hand and it is crushed between them, he can feel his friend’s chest pressing against the back of his hands, feel Leonard’s body pressed against his own so innocently.

Sheldon’s eyes are closed and his mouth is open as he fantasises and he feels his body tense up and he knows what is about to happen. His breathing becomes shakey and his hips move of their own accord, pushing up into the tightness of his fist as his seed spills into his hand.

He stayed on his back for a minute or two, breathing deeply before he gathered the energy to reach across to his bedside table and grab some sanitised wet-wipes and clean himself up. Despite his best efforts his pyjama bottoms were dotted with his semen and he struggled tiredly out them before throwing them towards his dirty wash basket and then laying back down with a sleepy yawn. He did not replace the pyjamas with another pair, partly because he was too tired but mostly because those were Wednesday’s pyjama bottoms. To wear a different pair would be folly. Although it was technically Thursday now so he could wear Thursday’s… but then what would he wear Thursday night? Sheldon was too tired to worry too much about pyjamas and he slips gratefully into sleep, dreaming about being awarded a noble prize by Spock. It was a good dream. One of the best.
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The Midnight Sexual Frustration