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Having any consideration of the future was not something either of them were particularly good at. Sitting in the back of the limo in the trip from the airport back to Mordhaus, Pickles and Nathan decided that five weeks of binge drinking and flipping off national monuments wasn’t enough to quench their thirst. So, as the limo crawled over the asphalt in painfully slow traffic, Pickles shuffled through the many compartments of their ride and pulled out a nice bottle of brandy, fancy and expensive to accommodate Charles' tastes, and waved it in the air at Nathan like one would do with a piece of ham to a dog.
“Hey Naten’, look at what I fouuunnd,” and Nathan’s eyes had lit up ever so slightly, his hangover taking a back seat even before his first taste.
Turned out that traffic was a bitch that Monday evening and, in their boredom and access to two other bottles of booze, they just agreed to get drunk. Blasting music and, at one point, dumping bottles of water out the windows to see if they could leave a trail behind the limo as it crawled exhaustingly slow down the highway proved entertaining enough for a little while, but ultimately they were just bored again, but with nothing left to drink. It was another half hour and an angry call to Charles later when Nathan noticed Pickles being twitchy. It was small, hidden well and if he hadn’t been looking he would have missed it. Pickles leaned his head in his hand, his elbow digging into the top of his thigh and he was squirming . Like, pushing his knees together and pressing himself further into the plush seat under him.
“Dude, you okay?” Nathan asked, a strange expression on Pickles’ face before he snapped out of it and met Nathan’s eyes.
“Yeh, why?” he asked and Nathan shrugged. Could have been nothing. Except it was something. Like, very something. Only a few minutes later it was worse, Pickles throwing back the last of the brandy with one gulp and resting the glass on his bouncing leg, his hips doing that thing Nathan had never seen him do before. He could have easily mistaken the movement for arousal if it wasn’t for the look on Pickles’ face.
“Man, you just can’t sit still,” Nathan commented and Pickles let a frustrated sigh puff past his lips.
“Gatta piss, dood. We’ve been trapped in this fuckin’ limo for years now,” he said, pressing his knees together and still doing that stupid hip thing that for some reason made the back of Nathan’s neck hot, now that he knew what it was. Weird.
“Oh. That sucks,” Nathan offered lamely and Pickles just crossed his legs and let out another annoyed sigh. It was a lot faster than Nathan would have assumed, but only a few minutes later Pickles was a mess. A full fidgety mess. Finally, after a beat of stillness and a groan in his chest Pickles pressed his hand against his crotch, a white knuckled grip on his jeans, and crossed his legs again. Nathan’s organs flipped.
“Just, like, I don’t know, piss in the corner or something,” Nathan suggested, concern battling with the strange heat in his gut as he watched Pickles shudder in the seat next to him.
“Nahh dood, Charlie will fukin kill me if I piss in the limo again. We gatta be almost back, right? Gahd why is the traffic so bad, I’m fuckin’, I’m Pickles the drummer! I’m in Dethklok, I shouldn’t be waitin’ in some shit traffic!” he bitched, his voice almost watery.
“You could, uh, just piss yourself like, who the fuck cares?” Nathan offered and he had to swallow against his dry throat after.
“Charlie will be pissed and I’d neva’ hear the- the end of it, dood,” Pickles was oddly breathy, rolling the stud in his tongue over the backs of his teeth with sharp clicks, and Nathan could feel the filter break in him, the words spilling out his mouth before he had the chance to even think them.
“You could just piss on my lap so it looks like we both did it,” and now he was practically stuttering under his own words, Pickles giving him an incredulous look.
“I mean, uh- fuck like, if it looks like we both pissed ourselves then, you know, Charles can be mad at us both and, I mean, who's gonna give us shit if I also pissed my pants? You think anyone is gonna fuck with me about it? Fucking asshole fans will probably start pissing themselves because they think it's cool, or some shit. Make pissing your pants metal, or something,” he rambled, lost under the weight of Pickles’ questioning stare.
“Why don’t you just piss yourself then?” Pickles breathed and, yeah that was a good question. That was the reasonable thing to do in this situation, the easiest and least embarrassing way to go about this, right? Makes sense. But the heat coiling in Nathan’s guts like a curious snake had him lying anyways.
“I don’t have to, you’re the one with the tiny bladder,” and Pickles groaned in frustration at him, practically grinding himself against his own hand and how did he move his hips like that? Nathan had never seen something so akin to arousal that wasn’t that before and it was so interesting to see up close. The rocking and suppressed moaning, the absolute desperation on Pickles face was new and yet so familiar that Nathan could feel his chest tighten with it.
It only took another minute of Pickles rocking in his seat and pulling on his bottom lip with his teeth in a way Nathan openly stared at before he was crawling into the larger man’s lap, head bowed under the roof of the limo, one hand still gripping white-knuckled on his crotch, the other shooting forward to catch himself against Nathan’s shoulder as the limo lurched forward slightly and rolled to a stop again.
“Just, uh, yeah. You know,” Nathan said, not knowing where to put his hands in this situation. He could feel Pickles’ thighs shaking, his breath labored with the effort.
“I, Iah… I donno if I can, dood,” he breathed, eyes scrunching up, his hand flexing in between his legs. Nathan could have sworn his eyelashes were getting wet. He let out a pitiful sound, a long drawn out thing that had Nathan’s hands smoothing up the backs of his thighs.
“Just, I don’t know, just fucking let go. It looks painful, man,” he urged and Pickles just trembled over him, sucking in a breath as his knees squeezed in on either side of Nathan’s lap.
“Fff- fuck I- I, ah-” Pickles tried but it was lost to another whimper. Nathan looked up at him with sheer fascination, letting his palm lay large over Pickles’ belt buckle, the smaller man’s eyes practically bulging out of his skull when Nathan pressed lightly. Just a little pressure.
“It’s fine, Pickles, just do it,” he coaxed and he was confused at the strange neediness of his voice. Just a little more pressure. Gasping like someone had tazed him, Pickles leaned forward, a short sob passing through his clenched teeth.
“Naten’... Naten’ Naten’ Naten’ Naten’ don’t-” Nathan resisted the urge to lick his lips. Just a little more pressure. Pickles’ spine straightened, sucking in a gasp before letting out a high pitched and shaky “Oh, gah-hd” before it happened. Nathan could hear it, the wet hissing surprisingly loud for a few seconds before Pickles whined and shook over him, the sound cutting off. He could see the dark patch over Pickles’ crotch, saturated enough with urine to drip over his fingers, a few fat splotches on the blue of his own jeans.
“Naten’” he breathed, trying to keep his hold after such a large leak, and Nathan could hear it now, the arousal dripping off Pickles’ words. He was gasping in breaths above him, face flushed red, dreads hanging heavy over his shoulders, his hips twitching into his own hand; he looked so desperately turned on that Nathan’s heart skipped a beat and he scrambled to undo the belt buckle over Pickle’s shaking stomach so he could slip his fingers under the waist of his jeans, pressing into the flesh there. Pickles let out another breathy whine, a spurt of wetness hitting Nathan’s pants. Suddenly Nathan was batting Pickles’ hand away from his crotch and replacing it with his own hand. He wanted to feel it, feel the wetness roll over his fingers as Pickles tried desperately to keep it in.
“I can’t- “ Pickles gasped and Nathan rolled his wet fingers up against his soaked crotch hard, eliciting a shaking moan and a twitch of his small hips. Nathan groped at Pickle’s stomach with his other hand still, just a little more pressure .
“Gahhd, Na-aten’” and Pickles’ clenched teeth gave way until his jaw hung slack, the warm hiss of urine crawling down Pickles’ inner thighs and filling Nathan’s hand, spilling through his fingers in fat, noisy streams that pattered onto his own crotch. Pickles was panting over him now, hands groping uselessly at his shoulders as he practically drooled at the relief. Nathan removed his hand suddenly, the hissing louder without the extra barrier, and gripped Pickles’ hips to bring him down against him, grinding himself up into the soaked crotch with a groan (he didn’t remember getting hard), feeling the wetness soaking through his own jeans and briefs, falling in heavy streams in between his own legs and into the seat below him.
“Christ, Pickles, how can you still be going?” Nathan asked, mesmerised at how long Pickles had managed to keep pissing. Pickles was long gone, though; the question falling on deaf ears as he sighed out another moan, rolling his hips and- fuck Nathan forgot what he had just said. He wanted to feel it, feel the piss hissing against bare flesh- the jeans were in the way. Quick in the lack of time left, Nathan undid Pickles’ jeans, managing to squirm them down his hips enough to get a hand in there, the stream of urine not once faltering. His fingers met Pickles’ wet cunt immediately (never more thankful for free-balling-fad that had caught on with the band) and he pressed his fingers further against him, past his swollen dick and between his lips, the piss hitting his hand hot and, crooking a finger, he managed to press into Pickles as he pissed into his hand. The noise that tore out of Pickles’ throat was nothing short of the hottest thing Nathan had heard in a very long time. Rolling his hips against the hand, Pickles could feel himself drooling- the saliva dripping from his lower lip and into Nathan’s already wet crotch as he leaned over against his large chest with a breathy moan.
The stream finally started to die down, spurting weakly against Nathan’s hand in time with the roll of his hips. He pulled the jeans further down Pickles’ hips, adjusting his hand until he was able to get two fingers in, groaning as Pickles desperately ground himself down on his fingers with a stuttering, squeaky moan. Nathan managed to get his other hand in the sopping wet jeans to press heavily against Pickles’ dick.
“F- fuck Naten’ I swear to gahd if you fuckin’ stop-” and Nathan just probed him more, rubbing at his insides until he gasped, crushing his mouth against Nathan’s in an effort to drown out the loud moan that bubbled up his chest as he orgasmed, his walls locking around Nathan’s hand. He kissed back hungrily, pressing his fingers into Pickles as far as he could as he rubbed harshly at his dick with the other hand. The piercing in Pickles’ tongue clicked against Nathan’s front teeth as he pulled away, panting desperately, shivering at the thick fingers still working him.
There was a second of strange and accepting eye contact before Nathan had the smaller on his back on the soft leather of the bench seat, slippery with urine, peeling the wet jeans down over his legs and pausing to run a large hand over the damp skin. Pickles was absolutely soaked, his legs wet and shiny in the low light of the limo and, on impulse, Nathan leaned down to lick at his hips, his tongue moving down to the crook of his thigh. It was a bitter, almost acidic flavor- objectively a not pleasant taste but in the excitement and heat of Pickle’s skin and the twitching of his hips it was one of the better things he had ever tasted. Pickles choked on a gasp, digging his fingers in Nathan’s hair as his jeans were pulled down past his knees, Nathan tearing one of his shoes off so he could get one pant leg free, leaving the other to cling wetly to his other leg. He only gave a second of hesitation before he spread Pickles’ legs and pressed his tongue fatly to the flesh there, tasting the piss and slick on him.
“Oh shit, that- that’s fuckin’ warm,” Pickles commented, combing Nathan’s hair out of his face in time to see him look up at him from his position buried in his crotch. What a fucking sight. When Nathan pulled away- his mouth wet- Pickles took the opportunity to drag him back up his body and crush their mouths together, tasting his own piss and sex and, God, Pickles hadn’t been so turned on in forever. Pulling away they panted in each other's faces, one of Nathan’s hands smoothing up under the others' shirt. Pickles slung a leg over Nathan’s hip with a desperate:
“Ya gatta fuck me, Naten’. Like, yesterday,” and Nathan was moving. Undoing his own pants and freeing his dick, still wet with urine that cooled in the open air to a shiver. Pickles couldn’t imagine he had ever been more wet in his life as Nathan pressed into him with ease, a gasp tearing through his throat when the cock bottomed out in him.
“Ah, oh gahd, fuck. Fuckin’ hell, Naten’” he slurred, his shirt being pushed up to his armpits as Nathan pulled out slowly before pushing back, grinding his hips flush against the smaller man’s. He couldn’t help the growl that reverberated in his chest. It was exciting, the acrid smell of piss still in the air, the way it pooled under Nathan’s knees and Pickle’s ass on the leather surface of the seat, the way Nathan’s hands slipped whenever he tried to get a good grip on thin, slick hips. Pickles could feel good while body throbbing with it, the relaxing relief of finally emptying his bladder having never come due to the sex, his insides knotting desperately, almost sore with the tension but so fucking good. It was like having the best, slow building, squirting orgasm followed immediately by another and then the sex- it was overwhelming. Nathan pounded into him with no remorse, having been turned on for far too long, pummeling his hips into Pickles with a wet gasp coming from the small frame each time. His jeans still clung wetly to him and he could feel Pickles practically dripping with the excitement of it all.
The limo traveled smoothly now, finally working through the traffic and onwards to Mordhaus. Pickles felt the vibrations of the car under his back and, had he had any mind outside of the dick pulling his insides apart in bliss, he would have worried about the lack of time. But, orgasm wasn’t far off, not with how sporadic Nathan’s movements had become, the deep thrusts leaving Pickles breathless under him as he wormed a desperate hand in between them to his stiff dick.
“Fuck- that's good. I need you to come,” Nathan growled out, feeling Pickles tense around him, his pants becoming desperate moans under him as he bit into the side of his long neck. He was desperate for his own climax, pulling one of Pickles legs up until it was flung over his shoulder and aiming his hips upwards in hopes of pushing the redhead over the edge. It seemed to work, Pickles’ back arching and a labored moan falling out his mouth at the new position.
“Fuckin’ shit. Fuck Naten’ how- I can’t- ooooh gahd,” he whined, clenching around Nathan’s cock, fingers frantic over his dick as he went blind with orgasm, his other hand pressed against the door of the limo above his head for leverage- pushing his hips back against Nathan’s as hard as he could. Nathan’s hold on the thigh over his shoulder tightened, his knuckles cracking with the strength of his grip as Pickles’ cunt tightened and twitched around him, sending him careening into his own orgasm with a deep growl that echoed inside the cab- Pickles whimpering helpless under him. When Pickles came to he could feel the piss pooled under him soaking up his shirt, cooling and smelling strong as he panted under Nathan. His leg was freed, a hand-print sized red splotch over the flesh that would darken into a lovely bruise soon, and Pickles flung an arm over his eyes in embarrassment.
“That was, uh,” Nathan started, leaning over Pickles as his breath began to even out. Pickles let out a woof of a chuckle
“Uh, yeah, it was,” a beat, “Are we those people now? Like, that couple?” he asked and Nathan looked down at him questioningly. Pickles peaked out from under his arm at him.
“Ya know, just like, are we just piss people now?” he asked and Nathan let his head drop, his hair pooling on Pickles’ chest.
“Uhh, I mean,” and the laughter shook out of Pickles’ chest and Nathan suppressed his own laughter behind the curtain of his hair.
“Fuck, I fuckin’ guess so, then,” Pickles laughed.
When they stepped out of the limo, soaked and cold from the AC that cooled their jeans to their skin, Charles raised an eyebrow at them before sighing.
“I thought I explicitly said no more urinating in the limo. Frankly, I’m confused as to why that even has to be a rule I enforce in the first pace,” and Pickles laughed, stinking of piss and sweat and sex, exhausted and giggly with the after glow,
“Naten’ made me do it,”