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Shane’s knee bounced up, down, up, down, his thighs trembling as he scissored them together. Ilya placed his hand on Shane’s knee, stilling his movement, a questioning look on his face. Shane’s profile was highlighted by the blue and white glow of the TV, his bottom lip held between his teeth as he fidgeted.
“You are okay?” Ilya asked, rubbing his thumb against the inner side of Shane’s knee. Shane jerked away from the touch, his cheeks reddening as he scissored his legs again.
“Sorry,” He mumbled, leaning forward some, wrapping his arms around his stomach. His bladder was full, aching, sending spasms through his belly and groin with every movement. “Just, um, can’t focus.”
“We do not have to watch movie,” Ilya offered, once again placing his hand on Shane. This time though, he rested his hand on Shane’s thigh, digging his fingers into the sensitive flesh there. He grinned when Shane moaned, low and quiet in his throat.
Shane sniffed, clamping his legs shut as another spasm tore through him. “Then what?”
Ilya sat up, crowding him against the back of the couch. “Mm, I have few ideas,” He looked Shane over, his eyebrows raising just a fraction as he noticed just how tightly Shane was pressing into his own stomach. He said nothing though, trusting that if something was truly wrong, that he would speak up about it.
Shane ran his tongue along the inside of his teeth, considering Ilya’s offer. He was turned on, yes, but he had to pee so bad and he wasn’t sure he could hold it long enough for them to have sex. The thought sent a jolt of arousal through him-- His full bladder jostled with every thrust, his dick too hard for him to lose control. He took Ilya’s hand, the one that had been on his thigh, and brought his fingers to his mouth. He let them rest against his lower lip, his tongue darting out to swipe Ilya’s fingertips.
Ilya’s pupils blew wide as he pushed his fingers in, his own lips parting as Shane sucked on them, his brown eyes going hazy as he let himself slip into the warm, empty space in his mind. “Not here, moya lyubov, let me take care of you in bedroom,” He pulled his fingers from Shane’s mouth, already mourning the loss of contact as he stood, waiting for Shane to join him. When Shane stood, his legs wobbly, he guided him to their room, backing him against the bed until the back of his legs hit it and he sat down.
“Now tell me what is on mind, Shane.” Ilya’s words were soft, but held the weight of command as he stood over Shane. “Don’t make me ask twice.”
Shane shifted, squirming once again. He hesitated too long, Ilya’s patience worn and stretched thin after a long day of practice with the Centaurs. He swore under his breath before gripping Shane’s chin, tilting his head back so that he could look him in the eyes.
“I--” Shane gasped as he leaked, a hot spurt of piss dampening the front of his underwear, not quite enough to show through the light colored joggers he wore, “needtopee.”
Ilya’s mouth opened, then closed, his jaw working as he stared at Shane. He glanced at the en suite bathroom, then back at his boyfriend. “Okay, so.. Go to bathroom?” He hadn’t meant it as a question, but it came out as one, curiosity brightening his eyes. He’d never known Shane to be bladder shy, but there was clearly a reason he hadn’t gone yet. He looked down, laser focused on the way that Shane gripped himself through his pants, squeezing his clearly still-soft dick.
“Want you first,” Shane whined, wrenching his chin from Ilya’s grasp. “Please.” He leaned back, face rosy, lips wet with spit. It was tempting to further press him, but Ilya was too turned on to really care about whatever reason Shane had for doing this. He would act first, question later.
Ilya tugged his shirt off, tossing it in the general direction of their laundry basket, taking his pants off next. Shane watched him, panting as he stroked himself, still through his own clothes. Ilya’s underwear dropped to the floor unceremoniously and then he was on Shane, his stubble scraping the sensitive skin of Shane’s neck, Ilya’s lips trailing a sinful path down the column of his throat.
Shane tilted his head, greedy, desperate for more, his full bladder temporarily forgotten--
Until Ilya’s hand was on his stomach, pressing down just firmly enough to make him whimper, another spurt of pee leaving him, this time enough to turn the crotch of his pants dark.
“Aw, you have accident?” Ilya asked if he couldn’t see the evidence of it in front of him.
“No,” Shane whispered, his face heating from embarrassment and arousal, a dangerous combination when he was already so close to fully losing control.
“No?” Ilya repeated, touching his fingers to the wet fabric. “Lies, Shane, you are liar. What is this, if not accident? Is on purpose?”
Shane shook his head, his breaths coming in gasps. “Not on purpose, Ilya, please, just--”
“Just what? Watch you piss your pants like baby who cannot hold it?” Ilya’s eyes narrowed, his cock hard, pre-cum beading at the tip. Shane’s desperation was turning him on, far more than he ever thought it would.
“I won’t, I, I can hold it,” Shane tilted his chin up, defiance flashing hot in his gaze. “Want your cock, please.”
“Then you will take what I give you,” Ilya said, pushing on Shane’s shoulder until he laid flat on his back, his body on full display. Ilya took his time helping Shane to undress, pretending as though he couldn’t hear the way Shane whimpered, whined, his stomach just slightly swollen. Ilya’s touches were gentle as he helped guide Shane’s arms through the holes of his shirt, pulling it over his head with a fond look on his face. He avoided Shane’s pants, wet with proof of his need to go and instead dragged his socks off, using his fingernail to trace shapes onto the bottom of his ticklish foot.
Shane’s hips lifted off the bed as he grabbed himself, hard, crying out at the light touch. “Stop, fuck,” his voice broke, thready and high-pitched as he fought to hold on.
Ilya rolled his eyes but obeyed, hooking his fingers in the waistband of Shane’s soiled pants. He pulled them down Shane’s legs, grinning at the larger wet patch on his underwear. Those came off too, joining the pile of their discarded clothing. “Still soft,” Ilya commented, fascinated by the way that Shane’s dick twitched, trying to harden, failing even though Shane’s arousal was obvious. “Get on knees.”
Shane onto his hands and knees, spread open, presenting himself for Ilya, the shift in his weight reminding him of his desperation. The click of the bottle of lube opening and then the pressure of two slick fingers against his hole. When Ilya finally pushed them in, Shane’s cock swelled to half-hardness, a relief despite the ache it brought him. “Fuck, fuck me with them, ohmygod,” He clenched around the fingers, trying to push his hips back to get more of him.
A slap to the side of his ass that made him yelp, his lower lip jutting forward in a pout.
“Take,” Ilya gritted out as he removed his fingers from Shane’s ass, getting more lube so that he could slick his cock, “what I give. You want my cock, yes?”
“Yes, yes, yes,” Shane babbled, as if it were a mantra. “‘m sorry, just want it so bad.”
“Is okay, shh, you are still my good boy,” Ilya patted the spot he had just hit, adjusting the angle of Shane’s hips so that they were better aligned. He pushed past the tight ring of muscle, hissing through his teeth at the way that Shane clamped down around him. “Yebat, fuck, relax, moya lyubov, or I will not fit.” Slowly, Shane did relax, though it was clear that it took great effort.
“Ilya,” he sobbed, his back arching as Ilya bottomed out, his hips now flush against Shane’s ass. “I have to go so, so bad, please, I want it, hard, fuck me hard.”
Ilya leaned down, kissing the spot between Shane’s shoulderblades, smoothing his hand down the ridges of his spine. “Calm down, I have you, is okay,” He waited until Shane’s shoulders stopped shaking, going loose and pliant under Ilya’s careful touches. “Color?” He asked, rocking his hips forward as gently as he could.
“Green, green, but Illlya, I need you to h-hurry.”
Ilya reached around them, reaching for Shane’s dick to stroke him in time with his thrusts, finding him soft again, instead of hard like Ilya expected. “Sweetheart, we do not need to hurry,” He pulled out of Shane, wincing at the loss of sensation, painfully erect as he looked down at his lover. “Going to put you on back, where you belong,” he warned, giving Shane a moment to process the words. He helped reposition Shane to his back, placing his hands on the back of his thighs, pushing his legs until his knees were almost touching his chest.
The position put so much pressure on Shane’s bladder that he squealed, urine dripping onto his stomach. He stopped the flow, sucking his lower lip into his mouth, biting down until it stung from the sharp edges of his canines. “Hurts,” He whined, his stomach aching from how full he felt.
Ilya slid back into Shane, inch by torturous inch, until he was fully seated again. “What hurts, sweetheart? This?” He pushed against Shane’s stomach again as he fucked into him, hard and fast.
“Yes! Yes,” Shane shouted, tears starting to stream from his eyes. It hurt so bad and felt so good and he was more turned on than he had ever been before, his desperation multiplied from the cock in his ass and the ache in his bladder.
“Then let go,” Ilya hummed, groaning when Shane clenched around him, his lips parting as he started to pee, slowly at first, his stream picking up speed as he moaned, liquid pooling in the hollow of his stomach.
With every one of Ilya’s thrusts, piss splashed higher on Shane’s chest, the sheets darkening beneath him as his bladder emptied, urine pooling around him, searingly hot against his skin.
“Fuck, yes Shane, just like this, letting go for me. Do you feel better?” Ilya asked, his smile widening when Shane’s cock finally started to thicken, hardening now that he no longer had to pee.
“Mm, mmhm,” Shane’s eyes were glassy, his body was soaked, and he needed Ilya to fill him. He reached down to give himself a few good strokes, now fully hard, his erection resting against the piss on his abdomen. The desperation, the build-up to release, was almost too much. His breathing turned ragged at the unyielding thrusts against his prostate and he squeezed his eyes shut as he wetted his hand with his own pee, using that to jerk himself off.
“Da, like that, Hollander, touch yourself. Fuck your hand for me, lyubov.”
Shane’s thighs shook, trembled with effort, and then he was coming over the tight grasp of his fist, ropes of cum streaking the mess he had already made on his chest. Ilya’s hips stuttered forward and he groaned, fucking Shane through his own orgasm, the snap of his hips loud enough to hear even over their heavy breathing. When his cock started to soften he pulled out, taking a step back to admire the well-fucked look on Shane’s face.
“You need shower,” Ilya said, his voice shaking, weak as though he had been the one to lose control. Shane covered his hands with his face, his blush spreading down his neck, turning his chest a mottled pink.
“Shut up,” Shane said, his words muffled by his hands. “Help me clean up. Please.”
By the time that Ilya had gotten Shane settled into a warm bath, and their bedding bagged up to be washed the following day, it was late, far later than he would have liked to have been up with practice the next morning. Their mattress was too wet to sleep on from the little carpet cleaner that Shane had pulled out of their closet, so they had laid down on the couch, Shane curled up on top of Ilya, his weight and warmth reassuring even as he snored loud enough to keep Ilya from falling asleep. It was endearing though, in the way that sharing every part of yourself with a partner could be.
He looked up at the ceiling, following the moonlight shadows with his eyes as he thought about what had happened that evening. The corner of his mouth tilted up in a smile.
Shane wasn’t as boring as Ilya had once thought he was.