Smosh Fanfic: Obstacles, Part 2
WARNING: This fic contains omorashi. You have been warned~
A/N: This was supposed to be 2 parts, but it's going to be 3 instead. Oops. It's just so freaking long xD
“Thirty minutes?” Ian said hoarsely. “I can’t hold it for thirty minutes!”
“Sure you can,” Anthony replied, trying to sound reassuring. “It’s not that long.”
“Yes it is,” Ian groaned. “Oh God, I’m not going to make it.” He twisted his legs together tightly, one hand still pressed against his crotch.
“You’ll make it,” Anthony said firmly. He leaned in to kiss his boyfriend deeply, hoping to distract him.
“Mmm,” Ian sighed into the kiss, tugging gently on Anthony’s bottom lip with his teeth. Anthony let out a soft moan; it seemed like it had been forever since they’d last had sex, and even this gentle kissing was driving him crazy.
Suddenly Ian pulled away, doubling over and gasping. “Oh God,” he moaned aloud. “Fuck, I have to piss!” The last word came out as a desperate whimper that sent pleasant tingles down Anthony’s spine and straight to his dick. He felt bad about being aroused while his boyfriend was in such obvious discomfort, but something about the whole situation was strangely sexy.
Ian must have noticed his expression, because he glared at him. "Anthony, I swear to God, if this is turning you on, I'm going to kill you."
Anthony blushed. "Sorry, dude, it's just kind of sexy to see you all squirming and desperate like that."
"You won't think it's sexy when I piss all over the floor," Ian grumbled.
Anthony disagreed, but he decided that it was better to keep that particular opinion to himself. Instead, he squeezed Ian’s hand comfortingly. “I’ll always think you’re sexy,” he whispered, kissing Ian’s lips gently. Ian managed a small smile.
“Thanks,” he murmured. “Hopefully they get the elevator fixed soon so we don’t have to put that theory to the test.”
However, after another ten minutes, the elevator still hadn’t moved an inch.
Ian was squeezing his eyes shut, leaning back against the wall and holding his crotch desperately. Small droplets of sweat were beading on his face.
"I can't make it," he whispered, sliding down into a sitting position.
"Yes, you can," Anthony said encouragingly.
"No, I can't," Ian replied frustratedly. "I'm going to piss myself in this goddamn elevator and... and..." he trailed off, sighing. "Fuck," he said simply.
Anthony sat down beside him, squeezing his knee reassuringly. "You'll make it, babe." He knew that Ian hated pet-names, but in this situation he figured that Ian would be grateful for any bit of comfort.
"I don't want to have an accident," Ian said softly. His voice sounded small and shaky.
Anthony squeezed his hand. "I'm sure they'll get this elevator moving soon. But hey, if they don't, it's no big deal. It's only me here. I've seen you piss yourself before."
Ian shook his head. "That was different. We were drunk, and... and teenagers. I'm 27 years old now, Anthony. And I'm sober. I just came from a fucking business meeting, for fuck's sake. I can't... Not now. It's too embarrassing."
“It’s not that bad, Ian.”
“Yes it is!” Ian nearly shouted. Anthony flinched at the anger in his voice. Ian’s expression immediately turned guilty.
“I’m sorry,” he said softly. “It’s just… I’m trying so hard to be confident and… and mature. With all these business meetings lately, with running the Smosh company, with everything. And then… this. I’m going to wet myself like a five-year-old.”
Anthony sighed. “Ian, come on. This situation has nothing to do with maturity, and you know it. It’s just bad luck. The circumstances are out of your control.”
Ian sighed. “I guess you’re right.” He dropped his head back against the wall. “Fuck, I just have to piss so bad.”
Suddenly, Anthony had an idea. He rummaged through his messenger bag and pulled out an empty juice bottle from earlier.
"You can pee in this bottle, okay?" He knew that it wasn't nearly big enough to contain the flood of liquid that Ian was dying to release, but he hoped that it would relieve at least some of the pressure.
Ian was looking at the bottle hopelessly. "It's too small," he sighed.
"I know, but it can hold a little bit. You'll just have to stop when it's full. It might help a little bit."
Ian nodded. “Okay.” He fumbled with the zipper on his pants, tugging his jeans and boxers out of the way and pushing himself up into a kneeling position. Anthony held the bottle steady for him.
“Go ahead,” he said, nodding. Ian held his flaccid dick tightly in one hand, using the other to steady himself against the wall, and guided the head of his penis to the bottle’s opening. Biting his lip, he slowly relaxed the muscles in his abdomen.
Urine poured into the bottle with an audible hissing sound. A loud moan of relief escaped Ian’s lungs as he pissed forcefully into the small container, filling it halfway in a matter of seconds. Anthony tried not to watch, but he couldn’t help it; something about the sight was driving him crazy. He was mortified to discover a growing bulge in his jeans.
The bottle was close to overflowing in Anthony's hand, but Ian was nowhere near done; his stream hadn’t even begun to slow. For a second he considered just letting Ian release it all, but he knew that Ian would never forgive him if he let him piss all over the elevator floor.
"You gotta stop, Ian, it's full," he said gently.
"I can't stop," Ian whimpered, as warm liquid from the overflowing bottle began to pour over Anthony's fingers. He briefly wondered if he should be disgusted. He wasn't, in any case.
"It's getting all over the floor, babe," Anthony said. Ian swallowed and looked down at the spot where the elevator's gray carpet was quickly darkening from the fluids pouring over the rim of the bottle.
"O-okay," Ian said shakily. He closed his eyes, squeezing his hand tightly around his dick and taking deep, shaky breaths. After several long seconds, he managed to stop the flow.
"Oh God," he moaned. "It hurts."
"I know," Anthony said softly. He screwed the top back onto the now-full bottle and stuffed it back into his bag; he could get rid of it later. “But do you feel any better?”
Ian nodded, tucking his dick back into his pants and zipping his fly again. “A little, I guess. But I can’t hold it much longer, Ant. How long has it been?”
Anthony checked his phone. “Twenty minutes. Just another ten minutes to go, babe. Can you make it?”
Ian groaned, squeezing his crotch absentmindedly. “I don’t know,” he whispered.
A/N: This was supposed to be 2 parts, but it's going to be 3 instead. Oops. It's just so freaking long xD
“Thirty minutes?” Ian said hoarsely. “I can’t hold it for thirty minutes!”
“Sure you can,” Anthony replied, trying to sound reassuring. “It’s not that long.”
“Yes it is,” Ian groaned. “Oh God, I’m not going to make it.” He twisted his legs together tightly, one hand still pressed against his crotch.
“You’ll make it,” Anthony said firmly. He leaned in to kiss his boyfriend deeply, hoping to distract him.
“Mmm,” Ian sighed into the kiss, tugging gently on Anthony’s bottom lip with his teeth. Anthony let out a soft moan; it seemed like it had been forever since they’d last had sex, and even this gentle kissing was driving him crazy.
Suddenly Ian pulled away, doubling over and gasping. “Oh God,” he moaned aloud. “Fuck, I have to piss!” The last word came out as a desperate whimper that sent pleasant tingles down Anthony’s spine and straight to his dick. He felt bad about being aroused while his boyfriend was in such obvious discomfort, but something about the whole situation was strangely sexy.
Ian must have noticed his expression, because he glared at him. "Anthony, I swear to God, if this is turning you on, I'm going to kill you."
Anthony blushed. "Sorry, dude, it's just kind of sexy to see you all squirming and desperate like that."
"You won't think it's sexy when I piss all over the floor," Ian grumbled.
Anthony disagreed, but he decided that it was better to keep that particular opinion to himself. Instead, he squeezed Ian’s hand comfortingly. “I’ll always think you’re sexy,” he whispered, kissing Ian’s lips gently. Ian managed a small smile.
“Thanks,” he murmured. “Hopefully they get the elevator fixed soon so we don’t have to put that theory to the test.”
However, after another ten minutes, the elevator still hadn’t moved an inch.
Ian was squeezing his eyes shut, leaning back against the wall and holding his crotch desperately. Small droplets of sweat were beading on his face.
"I can't make it," he whispered, sliding down into a sitting position.
"Yes, you can," Anthony said encouragingly.
"No, I can't," Ian replied frustratedly. "I'm going to piss myself in this goddamn elevator and... and..." he trailed off, sighing. "Fuck," he said simply.
Anthony sat down beside him, squeezing his knee reassuringly. "You'll make it, babe." He knew that Ian hated pet-names, but in this situation he figured that Ian would be grateful for any bit of comfort.
"I don't want to have an accident," Ian said softly. His voice sounded small and shaky.
Anthony squeezed his hand. "I'm sure they'll get this elevator moving soon. But hey, if they don't, it's no big deal. It's only me here. I've seen you piss yourself before."
Ian shook his head. "That was different. We were drunk, and... and teenagers. I'm 27 years old now, Anthony. And I'm sober. I just came from a fucking business meeting, for fuck's sake. I can't... Not now. It's too embarrassing."
“It’s not that bad, Ian.”
“Yes it is!” Ian nearly shouted. Anthony flinched at the anger in his voice. Ian’s expression immediately turned guilty.
“I’m sorry,” he said softly. “It’s just… I’m trying so hard to be confident and… and mature. With all these business meetings lately, with running the Smosh company, with everything. And then… this. I’m going to wet myself like a five-year-old.”
Anthony sighed. “Ian, come on. This situation has nothing to do with maturity, and you know it. It’s just bad luck. The circumstances are out of your control.”
Ian sighed. “I guess you’re right.” He dropped his head back against the wall. “Fuck, I just have to piss so bad.”
Suddenly, Anthony had an idea. He rummaged through his messenger bag and pulled out an empty juice bottle from earlier.
"You can pee in this bottle, okay?" He knew that it wasn't nearly big enough to contain the flood of liquid that Ian was dying to release, but he hoped that it would relieve at least some of the pressure.
Ian was looking at the bottle hopelessly. "It's too small," he sighed.
"I know, but it can hold a little bit. You'll just have to stop when it's full. It might help a little bit."
Ian nodded. “Okay.” He fumbled with the zipper on his pants, tugging his jeans and boxers out of the way and pushing himself up into a kneeling position. Anthony held the bottle steady for him.
“Go ahead,” he said, nodding. Ian held his flaccid dick tightly in one hand, using the other to steady himself against the wall, and guided the head of his penis to the bottle’s opening. Biting his lip, he slowly relaxed the muscles in his abdomen.
Urine poured into the bottle with an audible hissing sound. A loud moan of relief escaped Ian’s lungs as he pissed forcefully into the small container, filling it halfway in a matter of seconds. Anthony tried not to watch, but he couldn’t help it; something about the sight was driving him crazy. He was mortified to discover a growing bulge in his jeans.
The bottle was close to overflowing in Anthony's hand, but Ian was nowhere near done; his stream hadn’t even begun to slow. For a second he considered just letting Ian release it all, but he knew that Ian would never forgive him if he let him piss all over the elevator floor.
"You gotta stop, Ian, it's full," he said gently.
"I can't stop," Ian whimpered, as warm liquid from the overflowing bottle began to pour over Anthony's fingers. He briefly wondered if he should be disgusted. He wasn't, in any case.
"It's getting all over the floor, babe," Anthony said. Ian swallowed and looked down at the spot where the elevator's gray carpet was quickly darkening from the fluids pouring over the rim of the bottle.
"O-okay," Ian said shakily. He closed his eyes, squeezing his hand tightly around his dick and taking deep, shaky breaths. After several long seconds, he managed to stop the flow.
"Oh God," he moaned. "It hurts."
"I know," Anthony said softly. He screwed the top back onto the now-full bottle and stuffed it back into his bag; he could get rid of it later. “But do you feel any better?”
Ian nodded, tucking his dick back into his pants and zipping his fly again. “A little, I guess. But I can’t hold it much longer, Ant. How long has it been?”
Anthony checked his phone. “Twenty minutes. Just another ten minutes to go, babe. Can you make it?”
Ian groaned, squeezing his crotch absentmindedly. “I don’t know,” he whispered.