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Nick might be in quite a predicament.
Scratch that. He definitely is.
The entire night has been going well for the most part. All he had to do was walk the carpet, take some promotional pictures, and give some interviews. He was nervous beforehand, he usually is, but it’s been going well. Everyone’s been nice to him, they asked actually interesting questions, and pronounced his last name correctly. He got to see some people he worked with in the past and network a little bit.
It would have been a great night in general if not for the fact that he’s dying for a piss. He’s had to go the entire night, actually. From the moment he entered the venue, but at first he thought it would have been awkward to just make a beeline for the bathroom the second he got there. He could go later. He’s cursing his past self now.
It hadn’t been that bad at first, just a little annoying pressure in his abdomen that passed the moment he shifted. It was a non-issue, really.
Well, it’s been four hours since then and he’s dying. He didn’t get a single moment of peace the entire night. People wanted something from him the entire time. If he were able to think straight right now, he would probably be happy that so many people from the industry wanted to comment on his work or ask him questions about his films. Right now, though? He’s just silently begging for the event to end.
He’s been standing and talking to the same group of people for the last ten minutes, but didn’t retain a single word from this conversation. He can’t focus on anything other than the all-encompassing need to piss. The conversation is making zero sense to him right now, and he’s not even trying to speak up.
Shifting in place and clenching his muscles is no longer helping and he’s starting to silently panic. He wiggles again and tries to subtly lean forward a little bit. Hopefully it just looks as if he’s just leaning against the table a little bit to get more comfortable and not like he’s fighting the urge to slump forward, grab his dick and cross his legs.
Another wave of desperation hits him almost immediately and he knows he needs to get out of here. He can’t wait any longer. The event is almost over anyway, he can allow himself a little trip to the bathroom now.
He knows he has to excuse himself from this conversation sooner rather than later so he feigns getting a phone call.
“Excuse me, sorry, I really need to get this. It’s been great talking to you all,” he says as if he has any idea what’s been said in the last fifteen minutes.
The second the goodbyes are over Nick makes a beeline for the bathroom, walking as fast as he can without jostling his bladder too much.
The second he gets there, though, he freezes. There are so many people waiting in line.
“Fuck,” he curses. This is decidedly not good.
He counts at least ten people waiting while still talking in groups in front of the entrance to the bathroom and the exit of the venue. Goddamn it.
There is no way he can do it. He can’t wait that long and be inconspicuous about it. And he cannot make a fool of himself in front of all these celebrities and prominent people.
He’s never had to pee this badly in his life. He’s been pretty desperate before but it was nothing compared to this. His brain is starting to panic for real now, and he looks around, hoping to find any other bathrooms hidden away, but he finds none. Fuck.
He clenches his fists when another wave of desperation hits him, his toes curling in his shoes with the sheer force of it. His heart is trying to beat his way out of his chest now.
Fuck this, he decides. Taylor's house is just ten minutes away and he's expecting him tonight anyways. He fishes his phone out of his pocket and texts the driver they got him for today to meet him up front. He’s leaving.
The second his driver texts him an affirmative, Nick rushes out of the venue. He gets into the car at the speed of light and tells the driver to go as fast as he can, gives him Taylor’s address, crosses his legs in the backseat, and hopes for the best.
The ten minute ride is pure torture. He's swaying back and forth in his seat, legs crossed, hands wedged between his thighs, his teeth gritting and eyes watering. He knows this is the most dire situation he's ever been in. It’s like he can almost feel all the liquid sloshing in his bladder. His cock keeps twitching, begging for release. His mind is just a broken tune of please, come on, come on, come on, not yet. He keeps his hands between his thighs, even though all he really wants to do is grab his cock to help himself hold it.
“You okay, sir?” his driver asks, and Nick can feel himself flush.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m okay. How much longer?” he dares to ask.
“About five minutes.”
Shit. “Thanks,” he grits out, and has to shift again.
He’s pretty sure his driver knows exactly what’s happening if the way he’s smirking is anything to go by, but he does speed up significantly the second he seems to clock what the problem is.
When he finally makes it to Taylor's house he is eternally grateful that he has a key. He thanks the driver and all but jumps out of the car, walking up the steps leading to Taylor’s house very carefully.
He lets himself in, but it’s like the second he does his bladder constricts again, teased by the prospect of release, now that he’s so close to a bathroom. Nick slams his legs together and finally, finally grabs his cock through his pants and squeezes. His eyes are watering again and he bites his lip hard enough to draw blood. Please, not yet.
He manages to stop the flow, but barely, a few drops making their way into his underwear. The relief is only momentarily, though, so he tries to carefully take those few steps separating him from the bathroom.
He can barely walk, he's hunched all the way forward, shuffling his feet pathetically, never taking his hands off his cock.
When he finally gets to the bathroom door he freezes. He can hear the shower running. Taylor is in there. The sound of the water running is the last thing he needs. He wants to call out to Taylor, tell him to get out for a second or let him in, but he’s rooted to the spot. Tears are now freely streaming down his face and he realizes he can't move. At all. Because the second he moves, it's just all gonna come out. He fucked up.
It hurts so fucking bad. He literally cannot move. And he doesn’t think he will be able to even when Taylor eventually leaves.
For the lack of any other options, he thinks that maybe if he lets out just a little bit, the pressure might lessen and he might be able to make it long enough for Taylor to leave the bathroom. So he tries. He’s got literally nothing left to lose at this point, he’s not moving anyway.
He slowly, carefully relaxes his muscles, but he starts panicking almost immediately because he quickly realizes that it was a mistake. He can't stop it. At all. At first it's just a dribble, but then it literally gushes out of him, immediately wetting his suit pants and splattering on the floor, the puddle getting bigger and bigger while he can only watch in complete mortification, his face red and tears still falling.
It goes for almost a full minute and when he's done the relief only lasts a few seconds before the complete mortification sets in. His face burns. He literally just pissed himself. In Taylor’s hallway.
“Oh god,” he croaks out in a broken voice before the tears pick up speed.
He finally uncrosses his legs and watches in mortified fascination as even more piss falls to the floor.
He doesn't know what the fuck to do. He barely has any clothes here. Either way, how would he explain this anyway? Why he’s here, right after his event, instead of much later, suddenly wearing sweatpants he left here last time instead of his suit? How is he gonna clean this up before Taylor finishes showering?
He’s rooted to the spot and he still doesn’t know what to do when he hears the water turn off and the shower door slide open. He panics. He has no time. There is no way he is getting out of this. This is how he dies. Out of sheer mortification, in Taylor’s hall.
Smart, beautiful, caring Taylor who is probably going to be super nice about this, but will never look at him the same way again. Who will never think of him as attractive again, because he will always remember the time Nick pissed himself at his place like a fucking kid. His eyes sting again. Fuck, why does this always happen to him? He fucks up every good thing that comes his way.
The doors to the bathroom open and Nick holds his breath.
“Baby? That you?” he hears Taylor call out from inside the restroom.
He can’t speak, his nails digging into his arms where they’re crossed over his chest in a pathetic attempt to soothe himself.
“Nick?” Taylor finally sticks his head out of the bathroom. “What are you – oh,” he says when his eyes finally land on Nick and slide all the way down his body, widening at the mess at Nick’s feet. Nick holds his breath.
They just stare at each other for a few seconds, neither of them moving as Taylor clearly takes stock of the situation.
“Oh,” Taylor repeats as he fully steps out of the bathroom and inches closer to Nick, a blush high on his cheeks, eyes wide, lips slightly parted.
He’s beautiful, he always is. His hair is still wet, the curls in disarray, water droplets falling onto his bare shoulders. He’s only got a tiny towel wrapped around his waist and he’s barefoot. He’s breathtaking, and Nick will never get to have him again. Tears cloud his eyes once more and he lets out a truly pathetic sounding sob.
“Hey, hey, babe,” Taylor is moving towards him, arms outstretched as if he’s approaching a skittish animal. “Nick, are you okay?”
“I’m so, so sorry,” Nick manages to choke out through his tears, and around the lump in his throat. “I didn’t – I really tried, I –”
“Hey, it’s okay, baby, it’s all good,” Taylor’s voice has jumped an octave. His hands reach out to Nick, but he’s getting dangerously close to the puddle around Nick, and it makes him panic even more.
“It’s not fucking okay, I just… pissed myself inches away from your bathroom,” he snaps, and hears Taylor’s breath hitch at the words.
Nick’s face undoubtedly gets beet red as he chokes the words out. He’s never felt this humiliated in his entire life, and that’s saying something.
Taylor takes another step closer and it springs Nick into action.
“What are you doing? Stay there, you’re gonna step into it,” Nick shrieks, adrenaline still pumping through his veins.
Taylor stops, but only an inch away from the huge puddle at Nick’s feet. He reaches out a hand towards Nick.
“Come here, babe.”
Nick can only stare at his outstretched hand. He has no idea what’s happening. He’s completely lost control of the situation.
Taylor wiggles his fingers. “Come on, Nick.”
And what else can Nick do but obey? He places his hand in Taylor’s and tries to step to the side where Taylor clearly wants him to go. He can’t help but wince at the feeling of his cold, wet pants clinging to his legs and the liquid that closes beneath his shoes, his face getting impossibly warmer.
“I’m so sorry,” he tries again, but Taylor shushes him and puts his index finger against his lips. Nick blinks, mesmerized.
“You’re okay, Nicky. You’re good,” Taylor says, voice smooth like honey.
Nick’s breath hitches, the way it always does, at being called good. He’s so fucking confused.
“You’re so, so good, Nick” Taylor continues, getting impossibly closer, putting both of his palms gently on Nick’s face, thumbs stroking his tear-stained cheeks. “So good,” he repeats and Nick makes another pathetic sound in the back of his throat.
“You had to go so bad, didn’t you?” he coos, and Nick flushes and looks down again. “No, none of that. Look at me,” Taylor orders and Nick scrambles to obey inadvertently. “There you go. You’re good,” he puts so much emphasis on the word that Nick shivers from head to toe.
He blinks up at Taylor, waiting. He doesn’t really know what he’s waiting for. An explanation? Further instructions? The second option sounds more like it.
Taylor smiles at him, his eyes full of something Nick can’t name in his agitated state.
“There you are,” he says softly. “Good boy,” he whispers, and Nick absolutely cannot be blamed for the whimper that escapes him.
Nick’s hands scramble to hold onto Taylor’s shoulders, looking for something solid to ground him. He feels like he’s floating, unsure what to do and what’s happening. He desperately wants some guidance. Taylor seems to be able to read that from his expression, because he rests one palm at the nape of Nick’s neck and speaks up in a low, dangerous tone.
“Here’s what we’re going to do. You’re going to strip out of these wet clothes, and put them on top of the hamper, we’ll take care of them later. Then you’re gonna wait for me by the shower, okay?” Nick nods, mesmerized. “Meanwhile, I’m gonna clean up the mess here, okay?”
Nick feels his eyes widen. “What? No, you don’t have to do that!” he scrambles to say, his face going scarlet again. “Please, it’s my mess, it’s disgusting, let me do it,” he pleads.
“Babe, listen to me. None of this is… disgusting to me, okay? Let me take care of you, alright? Don’t worry about anything. You’re so perfect, baby.”
Nick whines at the compliment, albeit involuntarily. He tries to search Taylor’s face for any sign of hesitation or discomfort but he finds none.
“Do you trust me?” Taylor asks, some of the confidence from before gone. Nick doesn’t like that he’s the reason for it.
“Yes, of course,” he answers without any hesitation. He’s not sure of many things but this one? He knows it in his bones. He’s known it since that very first Zoom call. He’s in good hands.
“Okay, baby, good. Then do as I say. Take these clothes off and wait for me in the bathroom, we’re gonna take a shower as soon as I’m done here.”
Nick nods, and takes one last look at the pitiful puddle, cringing internally, before stepping into the bathroom.
He steps out of his shoes first, and feels a whole new wave of humiliation hit him when he realizes that even his socks are completely soaked. He takes them off and puts them gently on the lid of the hamper, the way Taylor instructed him to. He takes off his jacket and his shirt, thankful that at least they survived the worst of it. His pants go next. They’re hard to take off since they’re clinging to him, completely sodden. His legs are still wet when he steps out of them and his face flushes again. Jesus Christ, he’s never gonna live this through. He supposes he should be happy it didn’t happen in public, but it did happen in front of Taylor. And Taylor? Taylor’s everything. Nick wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he did something to make Taylor leave. His eyes sting again.
Technically, Taylor’s been super understanding and nice about all of this. Nick doesn’t really have a reason to worry, does he? Does he?
He feels frozen, rooted to the spot, looking at the sorry image he makes in the mirror. He has no idea how he’s going to explain this to Felicity. This suit was a rental from Fendi and it’s probably unsalvageable. How the fuck is he supposed to explain this without dying of embarrassment?
He must zone out for a second, because the next thing he knows Taylor is shuffling into the bathroom, a clean towel in hand.
“Okay, baby, all done,” he says and then his eyes find Nick’s own watery ones. “Oh, sweetheart, don’t cry. It’s okay.”
“Sorry,” he whispers.
Suddenly, the look in Taylor’s eyes turns serious. Really serious. Nick gulps.
“Nick, come on, listen to me. There is nothing to be embarrassed about here, okay? It could have happened to anyone,” Taylor presses a kiss to his forehead. “I meant it when I said you’re good. Let me take care of you, please.”
“Okay,” he nods.
“Okay,” Taylor repeats and he moves to help Nick out of his soaked boxers. The feeling of Taylor’s hands on him makes him shiver.
Taylor throws the sodden boxers in the general direction of the hamper, uncaring when they land on the floor with a pitiful wet slap. Nick winces.
Taylor takes Nick’s hand gently in his and leads him to the shower, checking the temperature before stepping inside and dragging Nick along with him.
Nick feels grateful when the spray of water finally hits him, slowly getting rid of the evidence of his embarrassment. He’s suddenly exhausted – the muscles in his abdomen are still sore, and his feelings are all over the place.
He must make some kind of noise because suddenly Taylor is making quiet shushing noises and dragging his hands all over Nick’s shoulders. He opens his eyes and sees Taylor looking at him fondly.
Okay, so maybe he didn’t completely fuck this up.
Taylor starts lathering his expensive shower gel between his palms and then his hands are back on Nick, washing his body gently, leaving goosebumps in their wake. Nick closes his eyes and sighs contentedly. Maybe he does like being taken care of. Sue him.
Taylor washes him carefully and thoroughly, gentle hands cradling his entire body.
Nick feels like he’s floating – the smell of Taylor’s body wash and the feel of his hands all over his body making his brain fuzzy. He sighs contently, his eyes slipping shut.
He feels Taylor’s hands on his cheeks and he opens his eyes lazily.
“Hi,” Taylor smiles before he kisses him.
The kiss is gentle and caring at first, calming Nick’s racing heart. He can’t help but groan appreciatively, which in turn, makes Taylor kiss him harder. He lets himself get lost in it – the feel of Taylor’s lips against his, the little sounds he’s making, his hands in Nick’s hair. He lets himself be pushed against the shower wall, letting out a quiet moan the second his back collides with the cold tile, his cock starting to take interest in the situation.
Taylor’s wet mouth is making its way down the side of Nick’s jaw now, stopping at his earlobe to put it between his teeth and pull, and Nick moans unabashedly.
One of Taylor’s knees spreads Nick’s legs apart as he takes a step closer. They’re pressed together almost head to toe now and it feels electric. Nick can feel his cock twitch against Taylor’s thigh.
He can feel Taylor’s tongue playing with the hoop in his ear and he shivers, his cock almost fully hard at this point.
“What happened today, babe?” Taylor asks, his lips making their way down his neck, kissing and sucking and leaving little marks that they both know will be gone by the morning, just in case.
Nick flushes again as he remembers the night he’s had again.
“I just… I really had to go all night, but there was always someone who wanted something from me and by the time I realized how bad it was, the queue to the bathroom was so long that the only thing I could think of was coming here.”
“Oh, it must have been so bad,” Taylor pants against his neck. His hands are moving frantically all over his body as if he can’t decide which spot he wants to touch first. It’s exhilarating, and makes Nick shiver.
“Yeah,” Nick whimpers, “I uh, it’s never been this bad before,” he admits sheepishly. “I thought I would make it, but then I heard you in the shower.”
“And that was too much, wasn’t it?” Taylor is kissing his way down Nick’s chest now, his hands on Nick’s hips. “You couldn’t hold it any longer.”
“Yeah, I…” is he really about to tell Taylor the most embarrassing thing about the whole ordeal? That it was his own fault for thinking he could let go just a little bit to help himself hold it? Taylor doesn’t seem to mind.
“I had this brilliant idea to uh… to let go just a little bit to take the pressure off, but it didn’t work out so well for me obviously. I couldn’t stop it,” he can feel Taylor shiver at that.
“Fuck, baby,” he moans. “You held on for so long, though, you’re such a good boy.”
It’s Nick’s turn to moan at that. Taylor sinks to his knees and presses kisses all over his tummy, his thumbs caressing the V of his hips.
“Ah, fuck,” Nick chokes out. He can feel his cock leaking precum, while he shivers from head to toe.
“You really couldn’t hold it any longer, could you? You made such a mess, fuck,” Taylor pants as he drags his index finger along Nick’s length, making him keen and arch his back. “I thought I heard you come through the door, but I wasn’t sure so I went to check,” he finally takes Nick in his hand, making his breath hitch. His knees almost buckle and he grabs the wall for support. “And then I saw you. Standing there in a giant puddle, red in the face. You looked fucking obscene. Absolutely indecent.”
Nick feels absolutely mortified again, but with a startling speed he realizes that the humiliation might be doing it for him as much as telling him he’s good is. He is probably gonna need to unpack that at some point.
Taylor licks the underside of his cock and all thoughts immediately leave his mind.
“I tried to hold it back,” Nick moans, his hips bucking involuntarily, looking for any kind of friction. “I really tried to be good,” it’s important to him that Taylor knows this.
“You were so good. So, so good. Let me show you how good you are,” Taylor whispers. He teases his cock again. “May I?”
“Please,” Nick moans brokenly.
Taylor doesn’t need to be told twice. In one swift motion he opens Nick’s legs wider and swallows him down, eliciting a truly pornographic sounding moan from Nick.
Nick’s hands find themselves in Taylor’s wet curls, the pads of his fingers massaging his scalp and making Taylor groan around his cock.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he curses. It won’t take long, he realizes. He’s too worked up for that.
Taylor sucks his cock like he was made for it – he hollows his cheeks, and teases his slit, making Nick moan, whimper and squirm in place. Nick reaches blindly to the side with one of his hands, looking for something to ground him. His left hand comes in contact with the tiny plastic shower shelf and he holds onto it for dear life, as Taylor continues to suck, lick and tease him in the most perfect way possible, moaning around his cock as if this is the best thing that’s ever happened to him.
Nick’s grip on the shelf tightens almost impossibly and he feels and hears it crack, bottles clattering to the floor.
“Fuck, sorry,” he apologizes, but his eyes are still closed. “Oh my fucking god,” he adds as he feels the familiar heat pooling in his stomach.
Taylor must know he’s close because he picks up speed at the exact right time.
“You’re so fucking perfect,” Nick chokes out. Taylor’s whole body shudders at that, and the vibration is what sends Nick over the edge.
The orgasm rips through him, stronger than he ever remembers. He feels it all the way in his fucking teeth. His left hand find its way to Taylor’s shoulder, squeezing, as the other pulls at his hair, eliciting delicious moans from Taylor.
When he’s done his mind is completely clouded and warm and fuzzy. He blinks down at Taylor and sees him lick his lips, looking at Nick intensely. The sight is almost enough to make Nick hard again.
“Good?” Taylor asks.
“So, so good,” he slurs. He doesn’t know what’s happening to him, but he feels like he’s floating, his mind pleasantly empty. He feels warm and hazy.
“Nicky?” Taylor asks, getting up from his knees, his voice a little bit concerned as he takes a look at Nick up close.
“Hmm? Yeah, I’m great,” he smiles and is happy to see Taylor smiling back at him.
Suddenly, a thought occurs to him. “You didn’t come. Let me return the favor” he moves to reach down, but Taylor’s hand on his wrist stops him.
“No need,” Taylor says sheepishly, his face flushing, Nick watches in fascination.
“Oh, you already came,” he observes, still a little slow on the uptake, his mind sluggish.
“Yeah,” Taylor chuckles, “completely untouched,” he admits. It sends a pleasant shiver down Nick’s spine. “Let’s get you dry and go to bed.”
Nick hums and lets himself be manhandled, his brain still not all the way there. Taylor dries them both off with a fluffy towel, and helps Nick step into a pair of boxers. Taylor’s own, Nick notices appreciatively.
Once they get in bed Taylor maneuvers them so that Nick is wrapped in his arms and he strokes his hair, and draws absent-minded patterns all over his chest, arms and tummy.
“Thank you,” Nick feels the need to say. Taylor’s gone out of his way for him today.
“Thank you, for trusting me with this,” Taylor whispers back, sounding almost shy.
He’s on the verge of sleep, but he’s starting to realize that whatever happened today, might have been a thing for Taylor, if the way he reacted to him and dropped to his knees in the shower is any indication. He’s got an inkling that he knows what it is.
He’s just gonna have to test that theory, isn’t he?