The Holding Game
WARNING: This fic contains mild omorashi.
A/N: Look I wrote something for my kink account! I have a lot more fics for this account coming, I swear.
It was nearly one o'clock in the morning when Ian burst through the front door, holding his crotch tightly.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck," he was muttering to himself, fumbling to shut the door behind him.
Anthony looked up from the couch. "Ian?"
Ian finally managed to slam the door shut and raced into the house.
"You're not going to piss on the floor again, are you?" Anthony asked, flicking through channels absently.
"I think so," Ian panted. He'd barely made it past the dining room table before he doubled over, groaning aloud. "Fuck!" he gasped, and Anthony heard the unmistakable hiss of his bladder letting go. He watched with mild annoyance as the Ian's jeans grew dark with liquid, large drops falling from his crotch to the floor beneath him. Ian was moaning noisily with relief.
Minutes seemed to pass before he was finished. As always, Anthony was amazed at how much liquid his bladder could hold. Finally, Ian slumped against the wall, sighing heavily.
"That's the third time you've pissed on the carpet this month," Anthony said accusingly.
"Sorry, dude. I'll clean it."
"Why do you even do this?"
Ian shrugged. "I've told you before, it's a game. Melanie likes to play it."
"Couldn't you just say no?"
"Gay best friend duties, man. If she wants to play, I play. Besides, I like it too. It's fun."
Anthony raised his eyebrows. "Pissing all over our carpet is fun?"
"No, all the money I make from winning is fun. We bet fifty bucks on every game, you know. And I'm better at it than she is."
"Isn't it a little weird that you play that kind of game with your best friend? Especially, you know, your female best friend? Isn't that game... you know... kind of kinky?"
Ian snorted. "Dude, it's not a sex thing. It's not like I have some weird piss fetish or whatever. It's just fun to see who can hold it the longest."
Anthony rolled his eyes. "Whatever, man. I could probably hold it longer than you and still make it home without giving the carpet a golden shower."
Ian smirked and cocked his hip to the side, although the sassiness of the gesture was somewhat diminished by the wet jeans that were clinging to his legs. "Is that a challenge?"
Anthony sighed. "No, but you're going to take it as one anyway, aren't you?"
"Hell yes," Ian replied, grinning. "Tomorrow night, you and I are going to play the game."
"No, we're not." Anthony replied, shaking his head. "The last thing I need is for you to ruin the carpet again."
Ian thought for a second. "How about this, then. We play tomorrow night. If I win, you owe me fifty bucks. But if you win, I'll pay you the fifty bucks and I won't play the game anymore, ever."
Anthony thought it over for a second. He could probably beat Ian, if he tried; and it would be nice to not have to deal with this whole stupid thing anymore. Sighing to himself, he nodded. "Okay. I'm in."
---x---
"I can't believe I'm actually doing this," Anthony sighed as he emerged from his room. He'd been regretting this dumb decision all day, but now it was time to follow through with it.
Ian looked over his outfit, smirking slightly. "Nice jeans. Too bad you're going to have them soaked by the end of the night."
"Shut up and tell me the rules of your stupid game, dumbass."
Ian grinned. "Gladly. We go to the club. We order beers. We both drink exactly the same amount, and wait until we have to piss. Then we hold it. The first person to piss themselves loses. As soon as that happens, we get in a cab and go home. If the winner can hold it until they make it home, the loser owes them fifty bucks. If the winner pisses themself before they get inside the house, no one gets any money. Plus this time there's that rule about me not playing the game anymore if I lose."
Anthony nodded. "Sound easy."
"Easy? Okay, fine. Let's change the rules a little bit. Winner gets a hundred bucks instead of fifty, and you don't just have to make it into the house; you actually have to make it to the toilet."
"No problem. So are there any other rules?"
Ian paused thoughtfully. "No bladder punches. Actually, no punching of any kind. Or elbowing. Or kicking. Just pretty much no violence in general."
"Okay, no violence. Got it."
"And we have to stay within each other's sight at all times. Can't have you sneaking off to the bathroom while I'm not looking."
Anthony sighed. "Is that it?"
Ian thought for a second, then nodded. "That's it. So are you ready to go? I called the cab already."
"We're not going to a gay bar, are we?"
Ian laughed. "What, you don't want to go to me and Mel's normal spot?"
"No thanks," Anthony said, crossing his arms. "When you dragged me to that place for your birthday some guy grabbed my ass."
"What, like this?" Ian smirked, reaching out to squeeze Anthony's ass tightly. Anthony rolled his eyes.
"Fuck off, dumbass."
"Alright, let's go then." Ian replied, grinning as he pulled open the front door.
Anthony followed Ian out of the house, smirking confidently to himself once Ian had looked away. He was so going to win.
---x---
Anthony finished off his sixth beer of the night and slid the bottle to the other end of the table, grinning. Ian raised an eyebrow and opened his seventh, taking a long gulp. Anthony grabbed another beer too. At this rate he'd have to use his entire winnings to pay off their bar tab.
"Feeling anything yet?" Ian asked.
"My head definitely is," Anthony said, giggling slightly. "But my bladder isn't, bitch." That wasn't entirely true; a persistent pressure had been growing in his abdomen for the past hour or so. But he wasn't about to admit that to Ian.
"Y-yeah, me neither," Ian replied, but Anthony could tell from the slight waver in his voice that he was lying. This was going to be too easy.
---x---
Just as Anthony expected, Ian was the first one to outwardly show his desperation. Sometime around eleven o'clock he grabbed his crotch, letting out a small gasp. Anthony smirked.
"Gonna lose it already?" he teased, as if he wasn't worried about that very thing himself.
Ian snorted. "Please. You've obviously never played this game before. I can still hold it for hours." The statement would have been more convincing if he hadn't winced and squirmed right after the words left his mouth.
Anthony dropped one hand below the table, squeezing his crotch tightly. His urge to piss had long passed uncomfortable. Still, Ian looked worse off than he did, so he wasn't too worried. Unless he ended up wetting himself in the cab on the way home. He blushed at the thought.
"Come on," Ian said, gesturing toward the bar. "Let's get more drinks."
"Dude, I'm drunk already," Anthony protested, shaking his head. "This game is about pissing, not puking."
"Soda, then," Ian insisted. "If we don't drink more liquid we'll be here all night."
"Fine," Anthony sighed. "Soda it is." He slid out of the booth, pushing himself into a standing position. His eyes widened, and almost immediately his hand flew to his crotch, squeezing hard. God, it was a lot harder to hold it when he was standing up.
Thankfully, Ian seemed to be feeling it too. He shifted uncomfortably from one foot to another as he paid for their sodas, crossing his legs tightly together. They both struggled to walk normally as they made their way back to the table. Anthony slid into the booth, relieved to feel the pressure of the seat beneath him once again. Ian sat down next to him, cracking open his soda and passing one to Anthony. Anthony stared unwillingly down at the can. He didn't want to add any more liquid to his bladder - hell, it had started to ache almost half an hour ago - but Ian was taking a long sip from his own soda, his smirk taunting Anthony wordlessly. Anthony sighed, gulping down some of the carbonated liquid. One way or another, this would be over soon.
---x---
"God, I have to piss," Anthony finally groaned, unable to stay silent any longer. He felt like he'd been holding it in for hours. Actually, he probably had.
"I really gotta go too," Ian admitted. "You're a lot better at this than Mel, you know. She would have lost already by this point."
Anthony laughed shakily, trying to sound confident. "Is that your way of admitting you're going to lose? Come on, dude, I th-thought you were good at this game."
Suddenly a smirk crossed Ian's face, and he leaned in closer to Anthony. "Oh, trust me, I am."
"Wh-" Anthony didn't even have time to form a question; Ian cut him off abruptly by grabbing the sides of his face and pressing their lips together, hard.
Oh God, Ian was kissing him.
And yet somehow, it felt nice. Ian tasted like an intoxicating mixture of beer and soda, and his mouth was warm and wet, just like -
Oh, shit.
"Fuck!" Anthony cried, pushing Ian away, but it was too late; the distraction of the kiss had relaxed his body too much to stop it now. A wet warmth spread throughout the crotch of his jeans, coupled with an overwhelming feeling of relief; fuck, he was pissing himself. He slumped forward onto the table and buried his face in his arms, trying to hold in the moans of relief as torrents of liquid poured down his legs and seeped into the seat beneath him, soaking his jeans all over. He hadn't known that his bladder could hold so much liquid; the flow seemed never-ending. By the time he finally finished, there was a good-sized puddle on the seat around him, and a smaller one on the floor where his feet rested. He looked around, blushing furiously at the thought that someone might have seen. But the bar was dark and crowded, and no one was paying him any attention.
Well, no one but Ian.
Ian was smirking at him from across the table, where he'd moved to avoid being caught in the waterfall of piss.
"You lose," he murmured.
"Not yet," Anthony replied determinedly, shaking his head. "You still have to make it home first."
"Then we'd better get going."
---x---
The cab ride home seemed to pass far too quickly. Thankfully, the cab driver didn't seem to notice Anthony's wet jeans, but even if he did, Anthony wouldn't have cared; he was too busy silently hoping for Ian to piss himself. It wouldn't make Anthony win, of course, but at least it would stop him from losing a hundred bucks in the deal. At every red light or traffic lineup, Anthony crossed his fingers and watched Ian squirm uncomfortably, hoping that the delay would be just enough time to send Ian over the edge; but it seemed like luck was on Ian's side. When they arrived in front of their shared house, Ian's pants were still dry. He shoved a bill into the driver's hand and bolted from the cab, all but running for the front door. Anthony followed him, praying for Ian's key to get stuck in the lock or something, but Ian was already inside the house and hurrying down the hall by the time Anthony reached the front door.
Anthony ran after him, hoping that he wouldn't make it, carpet be damned; however, when he reached the bathroom, Ian already had his jeans unzipped and was pissing a waterfall into the toilet. Anthony let out a sigh of frustration as Ian let out a sigh of relief.
When he was finally done, Ian zipped up his pants and grinned happily at Anthony. "I win, bitch."
Anthony sighed, pulling out his wallet and handing Ian two fifties. "I would've won if you hadn't cheated."
Ian laughed as he shoved the bills into his pocket and began washing his hands. "Yeah right. You're just mad because I made you question your sexuality."
"You so did not-" Anthony began, but he was cut off; Ian spun around and pressed their lips together once again. Anthony's heart pounded with surprise at the unexpected kiss, but to his dismay he found his lips moving of their own accord, kissing back for just a millisecond. Then he pulled away, blushing furiously.
"I so did," Ian declared, smirking. He ruffled Anthony's hair, messing it up thoroughly. "Better change out of those wet jeans, dude," he added, before practically skipping out of the bathroom.
"Stop kissing me, you homo!" Anthony called after him, but he couldn't help grinning slightly.
"You like it!" Ian yelled back.
Anthony shook his head, sighing to himself. Next time they played the game, he was definitely going to beat Ian.
A/N: Look I wrote something for my kink account! I have a lot more fics for this account coming, I swear.
It was nearly one o'clock in the morning when Ian burst through the front door, holding his crotch tightly.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck," he was muttering to himself, fumbling to shut the door behind him.
Anthony looked up from the couch. "Ian?"
Ian finally managed to slam the door shut and raced into the house.
"You're not going to piss on the floor again, are you?" Anthony asked, flicking through channels absently.
"I think so," Ian panted. He'd barely made it past the dining room table before he doubled over, groaning aloud. "Fuck!" he gasped, and Anthony heard the unmistakable hiss of his bladder letting go. He watched with mild annoyance as the Ian's jeans grew dark with liquid, large drops falling from his crotch to the floor beneath him. Ian was moaning noisily with relief.
Minutes seemed to pass before he was finished. As always, Anthony was amazed at how much liquid his bladder could hold. Finally, Ian slumped against the wall, sighing heavily.
"That's the third time you've pissed on the carpet this month," Anthony said accusingly.
"Sorry, dude. I'll clean it."
"Why do you even do this?"
Ian shrugged. "I've told you before, it's a game. Melanie likes to play it."
"Couldn't you just say no?"
"Gay best friend duties, man. If she wants to play, I play. Besides, I like it too. It's fun."
Anthony raised his eyebrows. "Pissing all over our carpet is fun?"
"No, all the money I make from winning is fun. We bet fifty bucks on every game, you know. And I'm better at it than she is."
"Isn't it a little weird that you play that kind of game with your best friend? Especially, you know, your female best friend? Isn't that game... you know... kind of kinky?"
Ian snorted. "Dude, it's not a sex thing. It's not like I have some weird piss fetish or whatever. It's just fun to see who can hold it the longest."
Anthony rolled his eyes. "Whatever, man. I could probably hold it longer than you and still make it home without giving the carpet a golden shower."
Ian smirked and cocked his hip to the side, although the sassiness of the gesture was somewhat diminished by the wet jeans that were clinging to his legs. "Is that a challenge?"
Anthony sighed. "No, but you're going to take it as one anyway, aren't you?"
"Hell yes," Ian replied, grinning. "Tomorrow night, you and I are going to play the game."
"No, we're not." Anthony replied, shaking his head. "The last thing I need is for you to ruin the carpet again."
Ian thought for a second. "How about this, then. We play tomorrow night. If I win, you owe me fifty bucks. But if you win, I'll pay you the fifty bucks and I won't play the game anymore, ever."
Anthony thought it over for a second. He could probably beat Ian, if he tried; and it would be nice to not have to deal with this whole stupid thing anymore. Sighing to himself, he nodded. "Okay. I'm in."
---x---
"I can't believe I'm actually doing this," Anthony sighed as he emerged from his room. He'd been regretting this dumb decision all day, but now it was time to follow through with it.
Ian looked over his outfit, smirking slightly. "Nice jeans. Too bad you're going to have them soaked by the end of the night."
"Shut up and tell me the rules of your stupid game, dumbass."
Ian grinned. "Gladly. We go to the club. We order beers. We both drink exactly the same amount, and wait until we have to piss. Then we hold it. The first person to piss themselves loses. As soon as that happens, we get in a cab and go home. If the winner can hold it until they make it home, the loser owes them fifty bucks. If the winner pisses themself before they get inside the house, no one gets any money. Plus this time there's that rule about me not playing the game anymore if I lose."
Anthony nodded. "Sound easy."
"Easy? Okay, fine. Let's change the rules a little bit. Winner gets a hundred bucks instead of fifty, and you don't just have to make it into the house; you actually have to make it to the toilet."
"No problem. So are there any other rules?"
Ian paused thoughtfully. "No bladder punches. Actually, no punching of any kind. Or elbowing. Or kicking. Just pretty much no violence in general."
"Okay, no violence. Got it."
"And we have to stay within each other's sight at all times. Can't have you sneaking off to the bathroom while I'm not looking."
Anthony sighed. "Is that it?"
Ian thought for a second, then nodded. "That's it. So are you ready to go? I called the cab already."
"We're not going to a gay bar, are we?"
Ian laughed. "What, you don't want to go to me and Mel's normal spot?"
"No thanks," Anthony said, crossing his arms. "When you dragged me to that place for your birthday some guy grabbed my ass."
"What, like this?" Ian smirked, reaching out to squeeze Anthony's ass tightly. Anthony rolled his eyes.
"Fuck off, dumbass."
"Alright, let's go then." Ian replied, grinning as he pulled open the front door.
Anthony followed Ian out of the house, smirking confidently to himself once Ian had looked away. He was so going to win.
---x---
Anthony finished off his sixth beer of the night and slid the bottle to the other end of the table, grinning. Ian raised an eyebrow and opened his seventh, taking a long gulp. Anthony grabbed another beer too. At this rate he'd have to use his entire winnings to pay off their bar tab.
"Feeling anything yet?" Ian asked.
"My head definitely is," Anthony said, giggling slightly. "But my bladder isn't, bitch." That wasn't entirely true; a persistent pressure had been growing in his abdomen for the past hour or so. But he wasn't about to admit that to Ian.
"Y-yeah, me neither," Ian replied, but Anthony could tell from the slight waver in his voice that he was lying. This was going to be too easy.
---x---
Just as Anthony expected, Ian was the first one to outwardly show his desperation. Sometime around eleven o'clock he grabbed his crotch, letting out a small gasp. Anthony smirked.
"Gonna lose it already?" he teased, as if he wasn't worried about that very thing himself.
Ian snorted. "Please. You've obviously never played this game before. I can still hold it for hours." The statement would have been more convincing if he hadn't winced and squirmed right after the words left his mouth.
Anthony dropped one hand below the table, squeezing his crotch tightly. His urge to piss had long passed uncomfortable. Still, Ian looked worse off than he did, so he wasn't too worried. Unless he ended up wetting himself in the cab on the way home. He blushed at the thought.
"Come on," Ian said, gesturing toward the bar. "Let's get more drinks."
"Dude, I'm drunk already," Anthony protested, shaking his head. "This game is about pissing, not puking."
"Soda, then," Ian insisted. "If we don't drink more liquid we'll be here all night."
"Fine," Anthony sighed. "Soda it is." He slid out of the booth, pushing himself into a standing position. His eyes widened, and almost immediately his hand flew to his crotch, squeezing hard. God, it was a lot harder to hold it when he was standing up.
Thankfully, Ian seemed to be feeling it too. He shifted uncomfortably from one foot to another as he paid for their sodas, crossing his legs tightly together. They both struggled to walk normally as they made their way back to the table. Anthony slid into the booth, relieved to feel the pressure of the seat beneath him once again. Ian sat down next to him, cracking open his soda and passing one to Anthony. Anthony stared unwillingly down at the can. He didn't want to add any more liquid to his bladder - hell, it had started to ache almost half an hour ago - but Ian was taking a long sip from his own soda, his smirk taunting Anthony wordlessly. Anthony sighed, gulping down some of the carbonated liquid. One way or another, this would be over soon.
---x---
"God, I have to piss," Anthony finally groaned, unable to stay silent any longer. He felt like he'd been holding it in for hours. Actually, he probably had.
"I really gotta go too," Ian admitted. "You're a lot better at this than Mel, you know. She would have lost already by this point."
Anthony laughed shakily, trying to sound confident. "Is that your way of admitting you're going to lose? Come on, dude, I th-thought you were good at this game."
Suddenly a smirk crossed Ian's face, and he leaned in closer to Anthony. "Oh, trust me, I am."
"Wh-" Anthony didn't even have time to form a question; Ian cut him off abruptly by grabbing the sides of his face and pressing their lips together, hard.
Oh God, Ian was kissing him.
And yet somehow, it felt nice. Ian tasted like an intoxicating mixture of beer and soda, and his mouth was warm and wet, just like -
Oh, shit.
"Fuck!" Anthony cried, pushing Ian away, but it was too late; the distraction of the kiss had relaxed his body too much to stop it now. A wet warmth spread throughout the crotch of his jeans, coupled with an overwhelming feeling of relief; fuck, he was pissing himself. He slumped forward onto the table and buried his face in his arms, trying to hold in the moans of relief as torrents of liquid poured down his legs and seeped into the seat beneath him, soaking his jeans all over. He hadn't known that his bladder could hold so much liquid; the flow seemed never-ending. By the time he finally finished, there was a good-sized puddle on the seat around him, and a smaller one on the floor where his feet rested. He looked around, blushing furiously at the thought that someone might have seen. But the bar was dark and crowded, and no one was paying him any attention.
Well, no one but Ian.
Ian was smirking at him from across the table, where he'd moved to avoid being caught in the waterfall of piss.
"You lose," he murmured.
"Not yet," Anthony replied determinedly, shaking his head. "You still have to make it home first."
"Then we'd better get going."
---x---
The cab ride home seemed to pass far too quickly. Thankfully, the cab driver didn't seem to notice Anthony's wet jeans, but even if he did, Anthony wouldn't have cared; he was too busy silently hoping for Ian to piss himself. It wouldn't make Anthony win, of course, but at least it would stop him from losing a hundred bucks in the deal. At every red light or traffic lineup, Anthony crossed his fingers and watched Ian squirm uncomfortably, hoping that the delay would be just enough time to send Ian over the edge; but it seemed like luck was on Ian's side. When they arrived in front of their shared house, Ian's pants were still dry. He shoved a bill into the driver's hand and bolted from the cab, all but running for the front door. Anthony followed him, praying for Ian's key to get stuck in the lock or something, but Ian was already inside the house and hurrying down the hall by the time Anthony reached the front door.
Anthony ran after him, hoping that he wouldn't make it, carpet be damned; however, when he reached the bathroom, Ian already had his jeans unzipped and was pissing a waterfall into the toilet. Anthony let out a sigh of frustration as Ian let out a sigh of relief.
When he was finally done, Ian zipped up his pants and grinned happily at Anthony. "I win, bitch."
Anthony sighed, pulling out his wallet and handing Ian two fifties. "I would've won if you hadn't cheated."
Ian laughed as he shoved the bills into his pocket and began washing his hands. "Yeah right. You're just mad because I made you question your sexuality."
"You so did not-" Anthony began, but he was cut off; Ian spun around and pressed their lips together once again. Anthony's heart pounded with surprise at the unexpected kiss, but to his dismay he found his lips moving of their own accord, kissing back for just a millisecond. Then he pulled away, blushing furiously.
"I so did," Ian declared, smirking. He ruffled Anthony's hair, messing it up thoroughly. "Better change out of those wet jeans, dude," he added, before practically skipping out of the bathroom.
"Stop kissing me, you homo!" Anthony called after him, but he couldn't help grinning slightly.
"You like it!" Ian yelled back.
Anthony shook his head, sighing to himself. Next time they played the game, he was definitely going to beat Ian.