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Greg made the mistake of asking on the first of April. Once Rhod had been convinced the question wasn’t a joke, though, he seemed quite eager to say yes. They quickly found the earliest time all of their schedules would allow: that Friday, mid-afternoon.
Which is when Alex finds himself kneeling in the bathtub, under the showerhead. He’s naked apart from his training collar, Rhod standing over him. Greg is outside the closed door, where Alex won’t be able to see—and be unduly influenced by—his reaction.
“Ready?” Rhod asks. He’s just undone his fly. His hand is down his pants, adding to the noticeable bulge there.
“I think so,” says Alex. How does one determine if they’re ready for this?
“I’ll aim for your chest, but keep your mouth closed in case it splashes. You can shake your head to safeword, alright?”
“Sounds good.”
Then Rhod pulls his cock out. Oddly, considering everything they’ve done together in the past, this is the only close look Alex has ever gotten at this particular bit of Rhod’s anatomy. It’s semi-erect and uncut, and that’s really all Alex could comment on. Dicks and balls that belong to Greg—a category into which Alex slots his own, inferior as they are—consume many of his waking thoughts. The rest are generally unremarkable and uninteresting. Bit funny-looking. The only thing that sets this one apart is the knowledge of what’s about to happen any moment now.
Any moment…
Alex glances at Rhod’s face.
“Sorry,” says Rhod. “Been awhile since I’ve- Bladder’s being shy.” Looking at the ceiling, he hums a high, steady note.
“I could turn on the water,” Alex suggests, and then shuts his mouth, because Rhod’s dick suddenly produces a stream of urine that hits his breastbone.
Startled is all he feels at first. The piss is warmer than Alex imagined, and the smell of it, so close to his nose, is pungent, and it does splash a bit, but none of those sensations make it unpleasant, per se. Only when rivulets run down through his body hair and hit his cock does he tense.
Wrong.
Visceral repulsion clenches in his gut like a claw has reached inside of him and squeezed. This is wrong!
Rhod frowns. “You alright, Alex?” The hand holding his penis relaxes as he asks, aiming the stream lower, and Alex lurches backward so far the tap digs sharply into his spine.
He gives a yelp of pain that turns into a strangled, “Red!”
Eyes widening, Rhod says, “Alright, hang on, let me just,” as he makes himself stop peeing. His face screws up. “Fuck. Can you- No. I’ll- You stay there. Just a sec.” Quickly, he steps sideways out of the tub and over to the toilet, where he lifts the lid and resumes, with an exhale of relief. Then he calls, “Greg, get in here,” and the door bursts open.
“What is it? I heard him yell?”
“He said red, but I can’t-” Rhod gestures to his dick.
Greg’s already crossing the room, and Alex, still on his knees feeling wrong in that sickening, bone-deep way, nearly bursts into tears.
“It’s okay, baby,” Greg says, turning on the tap followed by the showerhead before the water has a chance to warm up. Alex doesn’t even care that it’s freezing, though. He leans back as much as he can to let it rinse away the urine. His breath is coming in pants. Greg sits on the edge of the tub and hooks a finger through the D-ring of his collar. “You’re alright, love. Hey hey! You didn’t do anything bad. Why are you looking so guilty?”
Alex sniffs and blinks rapidly.
“Is it because you safeworded? You know it’s good for you to do that.”
“N-no, it’s…” Alex glances past Greg’s bulk, where Rhod is peering across his own shoulder with concern lining his face. And Alex can feel the phantom streams of piss encircling his—Greg’s—cock. The water isn’t washing that down the drain. His hand clutches at Greg’s over the D-ring. “Can you do what he did? Please?”
Eyebrows up, Greg says, “Alex, this just proved that golden showers aren’t for you, which is fine. I will not have you forcing yourself-”
“I’m not!”
Greg falls silent. Frowning, but waiting for Alex to explain.
“I didn’t have a problem with it, except he- he marked me,” Alex says, with desperate hope that he’ll make sense to Greg. The feeling only half makes sense to himself. “I’m supposed to be yours.”
The frown clears. Greg blinks a couple of times. “You need me to…‘mark’ over it?”
“Please?”
“Jesus,” Rhod mutters, just loud enough to hear. Neither of them pay much attention to him, though, even as he tucks his dick into his pants and steps back from the toilet.
At the same time, Greg is climbing into the tub. On the far end, out of the direct spray from the showerhead, but his jeans get wet anyway. “I’ll try,” he says, unzipping them. “Not sure how much I have in the tank here.”
Alex scoots closer. “Focus on my dick, please?”
With a huff, Greg says, “Fucking hell, Alex, if you give me a boner, I won’t be able to piss at all.”
He wants to apologize, but that’ll probably make the problem worse. Greg’s cock is only starting to swell when he gets it out. Alex’s mouth waters as he looks at it, in the most Pavlovian response possible. He swallows.
Greg presses his free hand into the tiles and blows out slowly, his gaze fixed on the wall, above Alex’s head. A moment passes before urine hits just beneath Alex’s navel, the heat of it cutting through the chilly water droplets clinging to his belly.
Then Greg adjusts his aim lower. Alex looks down, sees the golden lines of Greg’s piss forming veins across his skin, dripping from his auburn pubic hair and the tip of his cock to swirl away into the bottom of the tub. Overtaking the feeling of wrongness. Claiming him. His eyelids grow heavy.
The urine tapers off after a handful of seconds. “That’s all I’ve got,” Greg says. “Better?”
“Mmm,” says Alex, blinking slowly upward. “Thank you.”
Greg starts to laugh, and Alex smiles, pleased that his Master is happy, and that sets Rhod, standing there watching them both, into chuckles too.
“Ridiculous man,” says Greg, with a shake of his head. He zips his jeans and rubs Alex’s crown. “Did I say you could drop?”
“Sorry, Master,” says Alex, not very. “Didn’t know I’d…”
Greg, to be fair, doesn’t look put out. “Yeah. Me neither. On your feet so I can get you clean.”
“I’ll wait downstairs,” Rhod says, as Alex carefully stands, steadying himself on Greg’s body.
When they rejoin Rhod, about fifteen minutes later, Alex is dressed and without his collar, Greg has changed into dry clothes, and Rhod is leaning his arse against a kitchen cabinet with his arms crossed and his head down. He looks at Alex through his eyelashes. “Well. Eventful introduction to watersports, huh?” he asks, and then sighs. “I’m sorry.”
“Why are you apologizing?” Greg asks. “If anyone should’ve seen that reaction coming, it’s me.”
“Hmm,” Alex says. “Don’t think it’s worth an apology from either of you.” He’d come most of the way back up during the shower and now only feels the pleasant afterglow of a trip to subspace. “We wanted to learn how I’d react, and that’s what we did.”
“Oh, sure,” says Rhod, with a small snicker. “We learned you’re piss-monogamous, for one.”
Alex grins. “And that I really enjoy it.”
Turning to him, Greg frowns. “It wasn’t just because you wanted to make me happy?”
“Please!” says Rhod, cutting across Alex’s denial as it reaches his lips. “The kinky little freak had to convince you. Or did you forget that already, you senile git?”
“He worries too much,” Alex says, fondly.
Rhod snorts. “How sweet.”
Widening his eyes at both of them, Greg says, “Shit, I just remembered I didn’t tell Alex you’d be staying for dinner, Rhodri. Don’t think we have enough steaks for three people. Oh dear, I really am getting senile…”
A lie, of course, but Alex yes-ands so well, they have Rhod out in the hallway waiting for the lift before either of them cave.
The marking quickly becomes one of their small rituals, in addition to Alex practicing his positions in front of the full-length mirror each morning and Greg hand-feeding him at least one meal a day. Less frequent than either of those, though, because Alex prefers nighttime showers with the lights dimmed nearly off—a habit which Greg calls “psychopathic”—while Greg likes either a morning shower or a mid-afternoon bath. They usually only end up in the tub together when they’re post-coital.
The first time, a few days after the experiment with Rhod, Greg reaches out to touch the cold tiles with one hand as the other goes to his dick, and Alex, recognizing the tell-tale sign that he’s about to relieve himself down the drain, says, “If you’re going to, um. Could you?”
Greg is confused. “Could I…?”
Heart skittering, Alex folds himself down—position two, knees spread as wide as the extra-large tub allows, hands resting palm-up on his thighs—and gazes at Greg’s surprised face through the steam. Greg’s bulk shields him from the water, making his wet skin rapidly feel cold—which helps, in a way. Subspace’s golden haziness hadn’t yet fully ebbed after their scene. The temperature change is grounding. And he knows if Greg has any doubt about Alex being in his right mind, Greg will refuse.
So, picking his words carefully, Alex makes the request a statement, not a supplication: “I want you to mark me as yours, Greg.”
Greg raises his eyebrows. “Do you?” he asks. More contemplative than dubious. Their discussion, that night after seeing Rhod out, had left this scenario as a vague, hypothetical possibility for a future scene, nothing definite. But they were both clear on wanting a chance to revisit it.
Alex nods. “Yes, please. I’d really…really like it.” His voice comes out thick with desire, and Greg bites his lower lip as he considers. Alex holds his breath.
Then: “Tip your head back and close your mouth.”
Alex obeys, and a hot spurt of piss hits his adam’s apple almost immediately. Right where his training collar would lay against the skin. He trembles.
“That’s it,” Greg murmurs, his eyes darkening. “Going to have my scent all over you. People won’t even need to see you to know you’re mine.”
Fuck yes. Alex arches his back, pushes his tits out, and is rewarded by Greg directing the stream to each of his nipples in turn, droplets splashing everywhere and spreading tingles through his chest like crystalline spiderwebs. Not enough. He presses his knees into the chilly, porcelain sides of the tub. His hips thrust forward.
“Need me to mark that as mine, too, hmm?” asks Greg. “Alright.” And he aims down.
By the time the last drops of urine are circling the drain, Alex’s cock is valiantly trying to fight back to life. He can’t even argue when Greg calls him a greedy boy.
In the middle of their next shower, Greg, unprompted, says, “two,” and when Alex, not yet used to being ordered to take up a position out of nowhere, doesn’t catch on for a couple of seconds, he’s made to get back to his feet and try again—and again—before his Master is satisfied enough to lay claim to him.
After that, Greg only has to reach for his dick to get Alex to fall to the bottom of the tub in anticipation. Sometimes Greg teases him by making him wait, motionless. Sometimes he has Alex run through a few different postures while Greg debates aloud where he’d like to hit first. From the neck down, not a single inch of Alex’s body is spared.
He wishes Greg would also aim higher, though.
Greg loves a lazy, sunny afternoon. Especially one where he’s got nothing on but kicking his feet up, watching telly, and enjoying the feeling of Alex’s mouth cradling his soft dick.
Cockwarming has crept into their daily life more and more since he gave Alex a training collar and agreed to expand their dynamic outside the strict boundaries of scenes. The act suits both Alex’s need to be of constant service, and Greg’s need to not have to put too much energy, either physical or mental, into dominating him.
Although it’s also a good break for Alex, Greg thinks, amused, as he glances down. The other man’s body stretches from Greg’s lap all along the couch. Alex’s hands are limp. The eye Greg can see is closed, lashes resting against the soft bag beneath. His tongue hasn’t moved in awhile. Either he’s so far down in subspace as to be nearly catatonic, or he’s falling asleep.
Gently, Greg runs his fingertips over Alex’s pointed ear. It twitches. “Need you to pull off, baby. This old-man bladder has its limits.”
The response is a muffled grunt and Alex nuzzling even deeper into Greg’s groin.
Greg suppresses his sigh. They’ve run into this issue before, and a firm touch didn’t go well. In Alex’s current state, he’s too sensitive for even a hint of disapproval. So Greg, voice soft, says, “Love, I know you’re happy, and I’m sure you want to just keep serving me. The best service you can provide right now is to let go, so I can get up.”
Alex doesn’t move.
“Before I piss in your mouth?”
At that, Alex does draw away. Only for a half-second, though; then he’s sucking Greg’s dick back between his lips. But in that half-second, he says….
Well, he says something. Something Greg is sure he misheard.
Because it sounded a lot like Alex said, “Do it.”
“…Alex?”
The uncertainty of his tone must penetrate. Alex pulls off once more with a small pop, then tips his face towards Greg’s. His eyes are foggy, dreamy blue. Yet his voice is clear, this time. “Piss in my mouth. Please?”
An emotion Greg refuses to name wells up from his belly, melting everything in its path. He stares.
Licking his lips, Alex starts to return his single-minded focus to his Master’s cock.
“No,” Greg says, a bit more forcefully than he means to. He catches Alex’s chin before he can latch on again. Nudges him back. “You’re way too far down to negotiate something like that.”
And then, because Alex is hitting him with one of those puppy-dog expressions he does so well, Greg quickly adds, ”We can discuss it later, if you still want to. Right now, you’re going to accompany me to the loo. So I can keep an eye on you.” He slides out from under his submissive, gets up, then snaps his fingers and points at the floor. “Heel.”
With a heavy sigh, Alex drops down on all fours.
“Good boy,” says Greg, and leads him off.
It’s possibly a mistake to have Alex kneeling right next to the toilet while he pees. The man stares at the golden liquid inches from his nose with a thirst like he’s spent forty years wandering in a desert. Greg has to look away.
Alex is filming tasks the following day. Greg doesn’t see him until evening, when they get dinner delivered and Alex eats from Greg’s fingers while kneeling wordlessly on his floor cushion. He almost never tells Greg about the tasks, but he usually has something to offer—a funny anecdote from the crew or his general impression of the contestant. The quietness stands out.
“Tired, my boy?”
Alex hums and nods.
“We can snuggle on the sofa and watch telly after we’re done. No washing-up to worry about.”
Another nod.
That’s exactly what they do. Or at least, they sit down and Greg tries to pull Alex into his side, but Alex, looking at Greg’s fly, asks, “Hmm, may I, boss?”
He doesn’t need to explain. Greg hesitates, though. And then shifts away so he can face his partner directly and give him a grin. “Not going to suggest I piss in your mouth again?” he asks, expecting Alex’s ears to go red as he stutters something about how that was the subspace talking and just cockwarming will be fine, thank you.
Sure enough, Alex does flush. What he says, though, is, “I might…enjoy it?”
Greg’s jaw drops.
“You look surprised,” says Alex.
“No shit,” Greg says. Then he thinks about it more and shakes his head. “The strange thing is, with everything you’ve consumed for the show, it genuinely doesn’t surprise me that you’re willing to drink piss. The fact that you want to, on the other hand…”
Alex moves closer, bumps Greg’s knee with his own. Wrinkles his brow. “Only your piss. And it’s more that I don't want you to have to get up when you’re comfortable. This is a service I could provide.” He pauses before adding, “Plus, it’s safe as long as you’re not on any medications I shouldn’t have; I’ve been reading-”
“Oh, he’s been reading!” says Greg, snarkier than he means to be. Snarkier than Alex is prepared for at this moment in time, judging by how he recoils like a cat that’s been bopped on the nose. Greg winces. It’s just…Alex Horne is trying to convince me to let him drink my piss.
And if Greg doesn’t watch out, he might not take much convincing.
“I’m sorry, Master,” says Alex in a steady, tight voice, eyes downcast. “I shouldn’t have offered without checking that it was something you’d be interested in. I’ll drop it.”
Greg sighs. “You’ve misunderstood me, love. I’m not uninterested.” When Alex’s gaze snaps back to him, he holds up a hand so he can finish. “I am worried you’re biting off more than you can chew, though.”
With a sly little smile, Alex says, “Ideally, there would be no biting involved.”
“Alex, there’s a difference between a hot fantasy and the actual taste of hot piss in your mouth-”
“Oh, is that why you’re worried? I’ve already tasted some.”
“…What?”
Alex blinks at him innocently. “Some of my own. I peed in a cup last night and took a sip. It was…fine? I wouldn’t put it on my Off Menu menu, but.” He shrugs. “I know I’ll like yours better, regardless of taste. Because it’ll be you claiming me.” A little breathy, he leans towards Greg. “From the inside.”
Ah.
“That’s why you want it, hm?” Greg asks, smirking.
Alex rubs his knees and squirms. “Well, I want to improve my service for you, first and fore-”
“I know. But your motivation isn’t purely service, is it? You want me to mark all of my territory. Including your mouth.”
In a whisper like he’s in church, Alex says, “More. Every cell of my body. Hydrating me with the liquid you made for me.”
Greg isn’t sure the science of that lines up—although Bear Grylls did use to drink his own piss for hydration on telly, didn’t he?—but the thought is undeniably hot. He swallows. “I don’t want you to be in subspace the first time we try.”
“No,” says Alex, looking eager. “I’m not. Currently, I mean.”
Now? Greg thinks, and then, Yeah, might as well. One thing about getting old, he almost always has to go at least a little.
So, spreading his legs apart, he nods at the floor. “Position one.”
Alex sinks fluidly to his knees in the first posture he ever learned when Rhod was mentoring him. His fingers interlock behind his lower back as he straightens his spine and exhales. The position is like settling into bed at the end of a long day. And it’s been a long day. He had to film a task that involved hiding in a wheelie bin for an extended period, which he hated, and it rained the whole time, which always makes filming more difficult. A drizzle is still coming down outside the windows.
Inside, though, is warm and cozy, and even with the lingering soreness and exhaustion running through his body, Alex doesn’t mind kneeling directly on the rug. Not for this. Greg has unzipped his trousers to guide his half-hard cock through the slit of his boxer briefs. Watching, Alex opens his mouth automatically.
“Yeah?” asks Greg, soft and rough. “You want that? Go on.”
Immediately, Alex leans forward and bends to take his Master between his lips.
“Show me how you’ll safeword.”
He brings a hand around to tap Greg’s shin twice.
“Good boy.”
With a spark of pleasure, Alex links his fingers behind his back again. Then he closes his eyes and waits.
Nothing happens.
Glancing up, he sees a small frown forming above Greg’s glasses. Bladder empty? Alex considers pulling off to tell Greg that’s fine, to take his time. Except it’s so difficult for Alex to keep himself from slipping down when he’s cockwarming. Perhaps he should offer to fetch a drink instead?
A sigh cuts through his thoughts. “I don’t think I can do this with your mouth on me, baby,” says Greg. “Not enough airflow. Let go.”
Reluctantly, Alex does. He’s fighting against disappointment. They tried. Maybe next time, in the shower, or-
Then Greg stands, and Alex, forced to lean back, realizes he isn’t putting his dick away. Instead, Greg holds it in one hand while he grips Alex’s hair with the other and tugs until Alex turns his face upward. Their eyes meet.
“Say ‘ah,’” says Greg.
Alex’s heart skips. “Ahhhhh.”
The first spurt nearly goes up his nose.
“Shit, sorry,” Greg says, readjusting, and Alex tries not to laugh. Because if he does, he’ll choke on piss.
The taste is salty and slightly bitter. Not pleasant, but Alex has honestly had worse things. More important—far more important—is the way Greg’s expression changes within seconds, goes hard and possessive and primal, gaze fixed on Alex’s open mouth, and how his fingers dig into Alex’s scalp to hold him still while Greg uses him to attend to this most basic need.
Liquid sloshes over Alex’s tongue. He suddenly discovers he can’t swallow without closing his lips, and he can’t do that without making a mess, because Greg is still peeing. The level rises, creeping up the inside of his cheeks. He stays motionless so it won’t splash out.
Then Greg groans and stops. “I’ve got more. Down that and give me a color.”
Quickly, Alex gulps a few times. Warmth flows down his throat, sinks into his belly. Greg’s warmth. All of him belongs to Greg now. “Green,” he gasps, licking at the droplets that linger beneath his nose. “So green. Please-”
“Open.”
The second time, Alex’s mouth is about three-quarters full when Greg shakes the last drip off his dick, saying, “Don’t swallow yet. Hold it. Let me see.”
Alex obeys. They stare at each other as Greg strokes himself to full hardness, and for a moment, Alex thinks—hopes—his Master will make him stay there until he shoots cum between his lips too, make him drink it all down together. He whimpers.
“Ohh, good boy,” Greg breathes, squeezing the nape of Alex’s neck with his free hand. “Okay, now.”
And Alex barely has time to empty his mouth again before Greg’s shoving his cock in, ordering Alex to suck it clean.
He does. Thoroughly.
They soon figure out that Alex can drink with his lips parted as long as his jaw is closed, which means Greg only needs to pee directly through the gap between Alex’s two front teeth. Unfortunately, Greg finds this method more hilarious than sexy. So Alex starts practicing with water, tipping his head back to gulp it down without the glass even touching his face. There’s a lot of coughing and sputtering, but in a few days, he’s improved enough to try again.
“Seeing it,” Greg says, voice hot, above the sound of liquid hitting a pool as Alex times his swallows to keep the level just a centimeter below overflowing. “Filling you up. Seeing what you’re doing for me. Fucking incredible.”
After, though, he points out that Alex did originally want to drink his piss while cockwarming, and that having to pull off first breaks the spell. And then he ignores Alex’s “It’s fine, really; I’m happy if you’re happy, boss,” and insists on his own practice sessions. Gradually, after a couple of weeks of sticking his dick between Alex’s lips just as he begins marking him in the shower, he’s able to overcome the need for airflow.
But for Alex, whether it’s feeling the torrent pour right down his throat or holding his jaw open until it aches while Greg floods his entire mouth, the part he loves most is having Greg’s piss inside him. Tangible proof of his Master’s claim in his very core.
The weekend after they’ve gotten the hang of both methods, Greg has an idea. He finds Alex putting in a load of laundry and says, “I’d like to invite Rhod over tonight for a little scene.”
Alex blinks. “Like…last Saturday?”
“No,” says Greg, laughing. He doesn’t blame Alex for not wanting to try that again so soon. As successful as the e-stim scene was, Rhod had been a merciless bastard. Just as Greg hoped. “No, this time he wouldn’t be domming you, only observing.”
“Oh.” Alex drops in the laundry pod and starts the cycle. “Observing what?”
“Well, based on some of the comments he made to me when we were leaving his and Sian’s place, I suspect he feels guilty about what happened when he pissed on you.”
“Yeah.” Leaning against the edge of the worktop, Alex crosses his arms over his Golden Girls jumper and screws up his face unhappily. “I’ve had the same impression.”
So Greg explains how demonstrating Alex wasn’t scarred from the experience might help, and when Alex readily agrees, they video-call Rhod together to ask him to dinner.
Between feeding Alex bites of roast, Greg tells Rhod that it’s a night of service-training, and that they want to put on a display of Alex’s progress. None of which is untrue. Greg just neglects to mention the exact services Alex will be performing. Years of experience co-topping with Rhod—and, on one memorable occasion, simply topping Rhod—means Greg knows the other man’s limits like the back of his hand. Rhod will love this.
They move to the living room following the meal. Alex brings his floor cushion and kneels at Greg’s feet between the sofa and the coffee table. His eyes are bright with excitement already.
Little show-off, Greg thinks, as if he doesn’t also love flaunting his submissive’s skills in front of other kinksters. Reaching forward, he hooks his finger into the D-ring of Alex’s training collar and gives it a small tug. “Let’s run through your positions, hm?”
“Yes, Master.”
Greg calls the numbers in random order, leaving out the ones Alex won’t have room to do adequately where he is. Rhod, sitting a couple feet away on the sofa, watches with a smile. “I could imagine using some of these next time you lend him to me,” he tells Greg.
“Would you like that, Alex?” Greg asks.
“Oh, yes, Master,” Alex says, between his own knees. He’s bent over facing the coffee table with his hands on his shins—number eight.
Greg gives him a smack on the arse and then lets his palm rest there. “Too bad you’re all mine tonight, isn’t it? I’m sure Rhod will thank you, though, for bringing him a drink before our movie.” He turns to the other man. “What would you like?”
“Sparkling water sounds good,” Rhod replies.
“A bottle for me, too, Alex. Go now.”
“Yes, Master,” says Alex. Rising gracefully, he nods at Rhod and adds, “Sir.” If he’s nervous about the next stage, he keeps it hidden. Pride glows in Greg’s chest.
The movie is a spy thing with a lot of car chases and guns. Greg doesn’t follow the plot very closely. The experience of sitting beside his best friend drinking sparkling water while Alex warms his cock—because of course—is enough to make for a pleasant evening. And part of his attention is on how full his bladder is getting.
Halfway through, a quiet scene starts as the heroine tends her wounds. Rhod seems fully absorbed in watching her. That won’t last, Greg thinks, smirking. Wonder how long it’ll take him to notice.
With a gentle touch of forewarning to the back of Alex’s head, Greg lets go.
The sound of guzzling definitely carries over the hushed orchestral music. From the corner of Greg’s eye, he sees Rhod look confused, like he’s trying to figure out if the noise is part of the on-screen action. Then he glances over at Greg.
His double-take is priceless, accompanied by a harshly whispered, “Jesus Christ!”
Greg cracks up. The piss gushes out faster with the force of his snickering. Luckily, he’s been holding for a few hours now, so there’s still plenty left when he’s under control again. He reaches down to steady Alex’s head while getting to his feet. Not a drop has spilled. Once his waist is higher than Alex’s mouth, he says, “Let us see.”
Alex pulls back and parts his lips, eyes still shut, as Greg wraps a hand around his own cock and continues.
Oh, no refusal to let go when there’s another Dom watching you? Greg thinks. That’s something to revisit later, though. “Good boy. Keep that mouth full. Show him, hm?” To Rhod, he adds, “You’ll get a better view if you stand up.”
“How fucking long has he been doing this?” Rhod asks, following the suggestion. His eyes fix on the foamy pool behind Alex’s wonky teeth. “And how- he’s drinking it while you keep pissing?”
“No, he’s making it evaporate, you idiot,” says Greg. “Yes, he’s drinking it. He asked me to let him weeks ago.” With his free hand, he scritches at Alex’s bristly chin. “Didn’t you, baby? Because it’s not just the outside of your body you want my piss all over, hm? Ever since Rhod helped introduce you to watersports, you can’t get enough. Bet you’ll be begging me to fill up your arsehole next. Proper little piss-slut.”
Affection drips from his voice, and when Alex’s eyes blink open and look at him, the answering love in his gaze is enough for Greg to feel his heart jolt.
I may be the only person in the world who knows what it’s like to be so adored.
As he thinks this, his bladder finally clears. Alex holds the last few gulps in his open mouth, waiting. Rhod gives a soft curse.
“Good boy,” Greg murmurs. “You can finish it all now.”
He and Rhod both watch Alex swallow and then sway forward and delicately lick clean the head of Greg’s cock. His expression is as if he’s tasting sweet nectar.
When Alex is done, Greg leans over, snags the empty bottle from the coffee table, and hands it to his submissive. “I’d like a refill.”
“Yes, Master,” says Alex. And he heads off to the kitchen with a dopey grin.