Chapter Text
Phantom sits in the backmost seat of the van, bladder aching. He knows he shouldn’t have had that extra Mountain Dew when Swiss stopped to fuel up but it was such an exciting colour, how couldn’t he? Between Mount and Cirrus up front, having a deadly serious conversation about the feasibility of space travel; Aurora, Cumulus and Dewdrop in the middle playing what has to be the world’s most heated game of uno; and Swiss and Rain on either side of Phantom, both staring wistfully out their respective windows, he thinks he’s safe.
Safe from the prying, vulture-eyes of his packmates. He reaches to subtly clench his dick, reaching to pull his hoodie down as his hand wraps around his crotch, squeezing tightly. He almost doubles over at the sensation, bringing both relief and a sense of urgency that wasn’t there before. He can’t ask Cirrus to stop again , he’s pretty sure she’ll leave him at the gas station if he does. The poor ghoul has lost track of how many times he’s made the pack stop. Each time he sheepishly raises his voice from the back of the van, it’s met with a litany of groans and occasionally a travel pillow being thrown at him. But it’s never been this bad before. He can normally ask to stop before he’s on the verge of wetting himself. Yet here he is, dick threatening to spurt with every bump Cirrus not-so-gracefully drives over, at full speed. Alas, they’re running late because of him already.
He’s wrestling with his thoughts, plagued with the decision of what, if anything, to say. Will his next words be asking for permission or forgiveness? Begging the ghoulette to pull over, even if it’s just on the side of the road; or admitting to his entire pack that he’s pissed himself like a petulant child who swore he didn’t need to go when they left. The quintessence ghoul’s brain can’t handle either of those outcomes and before he can settle on a third choice, he’s interrupted by a suspiciously damp sensation on the pads of his fingers. He brings them up and inspects them in the sunlight, glistening. Shit .
“Hey bug, whatcha looking at?” Swiss probes. Even bigger shit .
“Uhh just checking my nails,” he replies, keeping his eyes down at his crotch, noticing the wet spot that’s outlining the head of his dick.
Phantom thanks Satan his feeble excuse seems to satisfy the multi ghoul, returning back to staring at the horizon. Good news considering Phantom’s dick is now spurting in quick, irregular intervals, his basketball shorts turning a dark shade as he clamps his legs together to abate the stream. He can get away with it - the seats are separated and no one’s paying any attention - but only if he doesn’t drip onto the floor. So he relieves himself in small bursts, allowing his boxers, shorts, and the upholstery to soak up his release before relaxing his muscles again to piss some more. It’s painful each time and he struggles to dam the flood. Not only is it painful to deny himself the relief his bladder is screaming for, but he would be lying if he said it wasn’t turning him on. Many times, he’s suffered at the hands of another ghoul, being filled up with water only to beg them for release. But this is a different experience entirely. It’s a distinctive type of shame that only comes with a true accident, and boy is it getting him hot and bothered. This is what all the fantasies he’s played out with Rain have been leading up to, an honest-to-Satan mistake, a misjudgement with very wet consequences.
Several agonising minutes pass, counted by Phantom’s continual contraction and relaxation of his muscles. His core is aching from his efforts to keep still, not to squirm like he so wantonly would if this was a scene. This time, there is no punishment, just the shame of knowing he can’t control himself. It’s with Cirrus’ unceremonious approach to a rather large pothole that lets Phantom release the last of his stream. He’s soaked, the entirety of his shorts a darker shade than he’d left the abbey with; holding just enough liquid that they shouldn’t drip when he stands, the seat definitely got the worst of it, he thinks.
The other problem with basketball shorts? They do a terrible job at hiding his ever-growing erection. Forgetting he’s sharing a van with seven other ghouls, his mind wanders to how wet he is, feeling the fabric clinging to him and basking in the warmth provided by his release. Completely lost in his thoughts, he ponders the scenarios in which he’s found out. It’s not that he wants to be called out but if Cumulus were to find him all wet, red hot and embarrassed and tease him about it, press her hand against his soggy clothes then maybe jack him off in the bathroom, he wouldn’t be opposed to it.
He’s brought out of his daydream as Cirrus slams on the brakes, muttering something about a jackass who needs to learn to drive . Phantom squeaks as his hand is pushed right onto his aching dick. Despite his state of saturation, he feels the unmistakable sensation of his cock leaking, making the inside of his boxers sticky. He’s in too deep now, there’s no way he’s getting out of the van without cumming. Looking around, everyone still seems occupied; most notably Swiss is playing on Phantom’s switch (he’ll be having words when he can form a coherent sentence) and Rain is asleep, that ghoul can and will sleep anywhere.
So Phantom subtly reaches his hand into his hoodie pouch, dragging it over the tent in his shorts. He grasps around his dick as much as he can through the layers and has to hold back a whimper at how sensitive he is; for better or worse, he’s sure this will be over quickly. Swiss shoots him a glare as he shuffles in his seat, near-groaning at the renewed wetness engulfing him, “Oh- um- what are you playing?” Phantom asks, desperate to divert attention off him.
“Quit moaning, it’s not like you were gonna play it mister carsick , and you can see it’s minecraft, kid, come on.”
“Yeah- sorry, think I should maybe- um get my eyes checked,” he chuckles, a poor alternative to moaning as he realises he hasn’t stopped jacking himself for this conversation. Immediately he looks away to signal to Swiss he’s done, not sure he’d be able to keep it together for many more words without a whine sneaking out and giving him away.
With the focus back on his cock, Phantom strokes himself from root to tip, feeling the squelch as he compresses the material. He feels his dick leaking with each pass of the soaked fabric over himself. He thinks about the mess he’s going to have made at the end of it all; walking- waddling- to the bathroom, peeling down his shorts, then his boxers and looking at the sticky mix of piss and cum coating them. What if Mountain walked in on him, cautious not to leave the bug behind, only to see Phantom with his shamefully wet shorts around his knees, hard cock leaking against his belly?
The thought is too much and before Phantom has time to react, his orgasm is creeping up on him with a force almost as explosive as his bladder. His whole body shivers as he paints the inside of his underwear with a streaky white. He screws his eyes shut as his cock spurts what feels like an endless amount of cum, coating his cock with nowhere to go in the fibres of the saturated fabric. The quintessence ghoul fights to keep his breathing even and his throat closed as he strokes himself through the orgasm, slightly disappointed no one even batted an eye, although it’s probably for the best, lest they find out why else he’s wet.
Minutes pass and thankfully it’s Dewdrop that calls a stop this time, one too many iced coffees Phantom suspects. Regardless of the reason, Phantom is just glad to have a chance to clean up. He makes his way to the bathroom with his travel bag slung conveniently around his waist. He’ll change his bottoms and then sit on his hoodie to keep the new ones dry.
Rain catches up to the ghoul despite his slightly hurried pace, “Hey Rainy, how was your na-” he’s interrupted by the water ghoul bringing his hand down to slap Phantom’s ass.
“Don’t think you’ve gotten away with this, bug,” Rain threatens, bringing his now wet hand up to hold Phantom’s chin, turning the younger ghoul to look at him. Phantom gulps, “You’re not as subtle as you think, baby,” he pauses, “and don’t you dare think I’ll let this slide.”