Work Text:
Mark had been holding for you since just after lunch. He’d headed for the bathroom then, in the early afternoon, but a simple “And where are you going?” had brought him back to you even before you’d explained how you wanted the day to proceed.
He’d eagerly agreed to your idea, and soon after, you went your separate ways. You enjoyed the knowledge that Mark did not and would not use the bathroom even as he worked into the evening… perhaps recording, perhaps on a call with someone, all the while his need only worsening from occasional sips of water and time in the absence of relief.
It was just as exciting to Mark, following this rule for the day while keeping everyone — his friends, the viewers, his manager — in the dark about what exactly was making him fidget, why exactly he was somewhat distracted. He occasionally fantasized, because you hadn’t told him all you had in mind, about what you might have him do at the end of the day before he was finally allowed to piss.
By evening, Mark was bursting, and couldn’t focus enough to get any more meaningful work done. He set it all aside for the night in order to come to find you.
You knew he wouldn’t have rejoined you if he wasn’t too desperate to do anything else, but you hid the excitement you felt when he walked into the room, instead greeting him with a casual, “Hey, Mark.” You could see it in his body language, too: He didn’t have to hold himself yet, but a certain fidgetiness wouldn’t leave him.
“Hi, Y/N,” Mark replied, much more strained. The urge to pee was terrible, and he was trying to suppress his squirminess but had to keep shifting his weight and subtly pressing his legs together.
“What’s wrong?” you asked teasingly.
Mark gave you a look, one part exasperated and one part pleading. “I’ve been holding for hours. I’ve gotta piss.”
“Oh, is that so? How bad is it?”
Mark groaned softly. “Really bad. I’m so full. Can I use the bathroom now?” He knew you’d say no. He’d be disappointed if you didn’t, really, but he wanted to hear you say it.
“Doesn’t seem that bad yet. I don’t think you need it; come sit with me.”
Mark bit back a whine, walking tensely over to you. He wasn’t sure if sitting made it worse or better, but his need felt more obvious: He should be able to relax on the comfortable couch, but instead he was shifting positions every few seconds, trying to minimize the pressure on his swollen bladder.
He hadn’t quite settled, caught between crossing his legs and leaving them free to jiggle his knee or tap his foot, when you leaned over him. You kissed him softly, dancing your fingers over the low part of his stomach. His breath hitched and he tensed, choosing the more defensive position with his legs together, but he didn’t move to stop you, so you slipped the fingers under his shirt to feel directly on his skin. You traced his bladder bulge. Mark shivered at the light touch, sighing your name softly but with a note of warning.
“You weren’t lying; I can feel how full you are. What would happen if I pressed down?”
“Nothing good,” Mark said, imagining the dull pain, the pleasure, and the increase in urgency it would bring. He almost wanted you to. He wondered if he’d leak — maybe, but maybe not. Your gaze met his, equally heated. After a day apart, thinking of the other, and now finally having your hands on each other, especially with Mark so desperate, you were both growing aroused… but you had a plan in mind, and you wouldn’t let yourself get carried away and ruin it.
“I think you could hold more, though. I’m going to get you a glass of water.”
You withdrew, slowly, one more kiss on your way out, and Mark sighed at the loss of contact, leaning back. The last thing he wanted to do is drink more; he knew that he’d soon reach his limit even without the extra cup.
This would, however, speed things along. You brought back a glass of cold water and held it to Mark’s lips. He took the cup from you, and took a deep sip.
“Good,” you praised, settling beside him. “Let’s kill some time. Watch me play Animal Crossing?”
“Sure,” Mark said after another sip.
You had to pick something that didn’t require a lot of attention because you wanted to watch all of Mark’s sips and squirms. When you caught a tiny noise he made as you walked close to your island’s waterfalls, you decided you’d spend this time fishing.
Mark was surprised to find that digital splashing had an effect on him, but it did. Maybe it was only psychological. He knew you were watching him, too, of course. He ended up drinking down the water fairly quickly, in part because he knew it was the only way to eventual relief. After the last gulp, he spoke up. “I finished my water.”
“Good,” you murmured, pretending your attention was on the conversation you were having with one of the villagers.
Mark leaned over to put his cup on the table but winced as the movement constricted his bladder. He straightened up quickly, trying not to whine. After a minute, he realized you weren’t quitting out of the game. “…Y/N?” he asked.
“What is it, Mark?” you asked, unable to keep the smile off of your face.
He shifted again, and again. He was too full, now, to find any comfortable position. “I thought you’d be done playing,” he said, strained.
“Oh, but my pockets are only like half full. I was gonna sell another batch of fish before I quit.” He may have finished the water, but it wouldn’t be hitting his bladder yet, and you really wanted him desperate.
“Okay.” It might’ve helped if he could’ve focused on the game, but when you were purposefully teasing him with water sounds, he sort of wanted to tune it out. That, though, only left the steadily increasing pressure in his bladder and the arousal it made him feel.
By the time you finally finished, Mark was shifting side to side every so often and when a particular spike of need struck him he would grab himself, squeezing just long enough to avoid leaking before taking his hand away like he hoped you wouldn’t have seen it.
As turned on as you were by his unintentional performance, you kept pretending like your attention wasn’t almost entirely on him in order to finish what you said you’d do. Mark, too preoccupied with his struggle to hold hours of piss, didn’t notice you were finishing up until you had totally closed out of the game.
“Oh, you’re done? Okay,” he said. “Now what?”
“C’mon, let’s go upstairs.”
Mark stood, immediately exhaling sharply and squeezing himself again. The change of position combined with another surge of need had almost lead to his first leak, but Mark was pretty sure he’d managed to avoid dampening his underwear. It was sort of hard to tell when he was hot and a little sweaty all over from the strain and the arousal and just physically pressing his legs together.
“You okay?” you asked.
Mark nodded, a slight blush on his cheeks. “Yeah… barely. I can’t hold it much longer,” he warned.
“We’ll hurry.” You hoped you hadn’t cut it too close. Maybe the last glass of water was too much.
Mark was willing to try, of course, and you both made it up to the bedroom without another dangerously close call.
You leaned in close to kiss him, resting your arms on his shoulders. He loosely wrapped his arms around you before you pulled back just enough to ask, “You wanna cum tonight, right?”
“Fuck, of course,” he responded, because after the day he’d had “of course” was the only logical answer.
With this, you slipped one hand down to fondle him. He rocked into your touch, partially for the pleasure and partially for the opportunity to unabashedly help himself hold. “Heh, right, right. Alright, one catch: I’ll only let you cum if you can do it before you piss.”
It sounded impossible — he had to go so badly — but damn did he want to try. He’d made it this long, and surely it would be easier once he got fully hard, right? “Okay, yes. I can do it; I can hold it,” he said, low and determined.
You smiled broadly and kissed him again before stepping away. Mark gave a little strangled groan — the loss of your hand meant that he had to go back to holding under his own power, in addition to the loss of stimulation; his own hand went to his crotch to replace it. He squirmed on the spot, giving a needy little whine. He was able to resist outright palming himself through his clothes but not bucking a bit into his hand.
He looked beautiful. You didn’t want to waste time and quickly undressed. You were also pleased to see the way that, despite his current preoccupation, Mark gazed at your naked form admiringly.
“Now you,” you prompted him, and he nodded, keeping his legs in a corkscrew while he pulled off his own shirt hastily. You moved to help, undoing his pants and helping him shove them to the floor before he lost it. In the process, you noticed there was indeed a wet spot in his underwear. You smirked. “You didn’t tell me you leaked.”
“I leaked?!” Mark repeated. “Fuck. I didn’t think I had.” He knew it must’ve been earlier when he thought he’d managed not to, but he could see the spot as well as you and felt himself blush a bit.
He worried for a second that this would be call for punishment or change of plans, but all you said was, “Don’t let it happen again, Mark…” in a warning tone of voice.
He nodded, and quickly moved to the bed. You were certain you were looking at him with at least as much of the adoration and attraction he’d shown you as you joined him.
Mark had hoped it would be easier laying down, and but he was full enough that, even without the pressure of gravity, holding was still an active battle. You could feel him tensing and clenching and squirming.
“All good?” you asked.
“Yeah,” Mark confirmed.
“Good. Now, like I said, you won’t be allowed to cum unless you can do it without losing control of your bladder. So, just to make sure you can’t get away with any more leaks…” You trailed off, moving down on the bed, guiding Mark to part his legs to make room for you.
Mark forced himself to keep his legs still, trembling slightly with the effort, because you slid down right between them, bringing yourself down to his half-hard dick, kissing the head softly.
“Let me. You better hold it,” you warned, “or we stop immediately.”
Mark moaned; he found the dual threat and promise of a blowjob while he was this close to losing it insanely erotic. Then he nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, please. God, yes.” If you’d didn’t start soon, he wouldn’t have a chance.
There was only so much he could do to hold it when his legs had to be spread to accommodate you and when he couldn’t hold himself to keep it under control, but Mark was not lacking when it came to willpower. He steeled himself, clenching his muscles and gripping the sheets. He knew his breathing was heavy, dotted with little whines and moans even before you leaned in, taking him into your mouth. You sunk down partway, then retreated in favor of licking down his full length. He gave a shaky breath as you licked back up, taking the head back into your mouth. “Please,” he said again.
With a mouthful of dick, you couldn’t answer verbally, so you simply continued, taking him down as far as you could, using your hand to stimulate what you couldn’t. You knew he was damn close to losing it when you started, so you didn’t plan to drag this out for an unduly long time.
You’d been with Mark long enough that you knew how to make him feel good, and between the wet heat around his dick and fighting the desperate need to piss, Mark could do little more than writhe and moan below you. He clutched and released the sheets, trying so desperately to avoid leaking and keep control of his bladder even while trying to chase his orgasm. He was close, but not close enough.
When he was feeling so much, it was hard to tell, but he knew he was about to lose control before it happened. He whimpered, and for half a second thought he should push you away (because he truly didn’t want to piss in your mouth) but deluded himself that maybe somehow he could cum first; he simply couldn’t stand to push you off of him when he knew he would lose control completely, then — he’d piss himself and disappoint you and not get to cum as he so desperately needed, so he didn’t.
You knew, however, as soon as you tasted something acrid and bitter — unmistakable — that he’d leaked again, even without hearing the guilty whimper that tore out of him. You immediately pulled away, sitting back with a disgusted expression. Mark clenched every muscle in his lower body to try and get it back together, a devastated moan escaping him. “I’m sorry, god, please, I need to— I need to cum, I need to piss, I need you, please, don’t stop,” he begged, his voice shaking with it. He was holding on, just barely, because if he let it go completely then he’d assuredly have failed. He’d keep fighting until he either couldn’t anymore or you told him he’d lost the opportunity.
As he begged, you got your water from the nightstand and rinsed the taste of piss out of your mouth. “You leaked, Mark.”
“I’m sorry!! I’m still holding for you; I haven’t pissed yet. Please, Y/N — please, I need to cum,” Mark begged. He was so close to cumming and so close to pissing himself that he couldn’t think; all he could do is writhe and beg.
“But you leaked. In my mouth, no less.” You spoke slowly and evenly. You knew exactly what you were doing, of course, in drawing this moment out. It was a punishment in and of itself to force him to hold even a minute longer, keeping him here at the edge of any kind of relief. He was trying so hard that there were tears in his eyes.
“I know, but I didn’t piss — that was the rule, right?? Please, I can’t—” Mark cut himself off with a strangled moan, clutching his dick with both hands in a desperate bid to keep control again. You weren’t sure if he leaked again or not because you couldn’t tear your eyes away from his tormented face. You leaned in, laying down beside him rather than over him, then wrapped a hand around his dick. He shakily took his own hands away with an incoherent moan. You pumped him slowly at first, then faster as you swiped up the precum — and quite possibly piss — that he was leaking, adding it to your preexisting spit to keep him slick. He was wracked so thoroughly with the need that he couldn’t speak, but the moans and whimpers you got instead were beautiful.
It was only a minute or so before he spilled over, cumming hard onto his stomach and chest with a loud cry of your name. His eyes fluttered closed, mouth hanging open as he rode through his orgasm. It left him spent, and he practically melted onto the bed below as he started to come down from it. Before you’d even had the chance to move your hands away, though, he was pissing — all over himself and your hand; it dripped off of him, some of it onto you before soaking into the sheets. Mark had a few more seconds of the most complete relief you’d ever seen on his face before he seemed to finally notice the warmth covering him and pooling around him. He gave a weak, distressed whimper, looking to you with something akin to guilt but still too spent to move as he continued to pee.
You spoke up quickly, before he could get truly upset. “Shhh, you made it. You did so good, Mark. You're so good for me. You held it for so long; now just let it all out. It’s okay.” You pet his hair with your dry hand and pressed soft, comforting kisses to his face.
With this reassurance, Mark relaxed completely as he finished emptying himself. The contented, thoroughly satisfied sigh he gave brought a gentle smile to your face.
You would have to get up and clean up very soon, but until Mark was ready to think again you’d keep murmuring loving words and laying by his side.