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The Ghostbusters; An eccentric group of paranormal scientists doing their part to cleanse New York of apparitions.
The day was particularly sweltering, a little unusual for the time of year, but nevertheless, work had to be done.
Ray and Winston were benched with a summer cold, far too fatigued to do any work, which was unfortunate for Egon and Peter, the only Ghostbusters able to attend to calls; particularly being called to a tea house, overrun with class four ghosts.
After the job was done and the traps were placed safely inside Ecto-1, the owners showed their gratitude by giving the two samples of all their iced tea flavors free of charge. With the weather being so humid, the tea was greatly appreciated by both men.
The tea shop sure did have a lot of flavors; mint, peach, lavender, raspberry.. the list was endless, it seemed.
Venkman wiped the sweat from his brow, gulping down his lemon iced tea.
"Thank you for the tea, but we really must be going now," Egon said, setting their several empty glasses aside, which Peter agreed, standing up from his seat and grabbing his proton pack from off the ground where it leaned against the table leg.
The owners bid their farewell as the two men got into the 1959 Cadillac, with Peter at the wheel and Egon sitting shotgun.
The car pulled out of the parallel parking spot, heading back to the Ghostbusters HQ... however, they soon ran into a problem- Rush hour... in New York.
Peter groaned as the line of cars came to a grinding halt, shifting his attention to Spengler.
"We're gonna be here for a while," Venkman sighed, throwing the car in park so he could take his foot off the break.
"I told you we should have left thirty minutes earlier," Egon said plainly, clearly exasperated with Peter's insistence to stay because he found the owner's sister to be hot.
"Yeah, yeah," Peter complained, rolling his eyes and staring out Egon's window, over the bridge where he saw the steady movement of the water below... making his mind wander to his bladder... which was now full from all the iced tea he drank.
Just as Venkman was about to complain again, this time about needing to take a leak, Egon's DynaTAC began to ring loudly. He extended the antenna and answered it, putting it up to his ear.
"Ghostbusters, this is Egon Spengler speaking," He spoke. There was a bit of silence from Egon only broken by the occasional 'mhm' coming from the brainiac.
When he hung up the phone, Venkman spoke up.
"Who was that?" He asked, putting the car out of park and inching forward. Every little inch made a surge of hope run through him, only to be snatched away when he saw the break lights turn on the car in front of them.
"Janine. Wondering where we were, we have another job," Egon responded, grabbing the GPS off the dash and punching in the address of their next job. Venkman let out a little puff of air from his nose. Thank God. Maybe he'd have a chance to take a piss.
"That's great news, except for the fact we're stuck in traffic," He responded.
Egon leaned over and turned on the sirens.
"Go around. It's like it's your first day on the job," Egon said, leaning back in his seat. Venkman gave a little smirk.
"You know we're not cops," he chuckled, "we don't own the road,"
"Just shut up and go," Spengler said. He didn't want to admit it, but his snappiness was brought on by the pressure building in his bladder. He knew he shouldn't have drank that much... or at least went to the bathroom before leaving the tea shop.
"Okay, okay, Christ," Peter said, pulling off out of the line, just barely squeezing by the line of cars and the railing of the bridge. The change in speed, however, put a bit of pressure on both of their bladders, creating an unpleasant shifting of liquid.
"So where is the job?" Peter asked, watching the GPS instructions out of the corner of his eye.
"About eight miles away," Egon responded.
"Eight miles? That's not too bad," Venkman responded, thankfully. That would be approximately 15 minutes... Unless they got blocked in by traffic. They made it off the bridge and started down the road to the house they needed to bust.
While Venkman was focused on the road, Spengler took the time to hold himself, desperation taking over him, making him want to whine. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been this desperate to urinate.
"ETA?" Egon asked Peter, gritting his teeth a little. God, if only they hadn't been sanitizing their caths that morning.
"10 minutes," Venkman responded, sounding equally as stressed. Maybe Peter was going through the same thing? Most likely. However... if they both had to piss... it was going to be a fight for the toilet when they got to the house.
About 2 minutes from the house, traffic had gotten thick again, making Venkman groan in near agony from the pressure on his bladder. He was seriously thinking he was going to pop if he didn't go right now.
"Venkman?" Spengler questioned, looking at the driver who was visibly struggling.
"Egon, you got a cup or something?" He panted out.
"If you are about to urinate, I suggest against it, Ray will be infuriated if you ruin the car," Egon said, although he as well was getting awfully close to bursting.
"I'm not gonna piss on the seats! Just give me a damn cup," he said, gritting his teeth, blindly reaching into the back seats as he felt as if he moved his torso too much, he'd piss himself.
"Ray just cleaned the car out. You won't find anything back there," Egon said.
"Fuuuuck!" Venkman near sobbed, gripping his crotch. Egon looked away, although he couldn't deny the light pink spreading across his face at the display. "Maybe if I just let a little out.." he muttered.
"Don't," Spengler said quickly. "The neural control of mictration," he added.
"What the hell does that me-" Peter started to retort, but Egon's hand grasping his crotch cut him off.
"Just drive," Spengler said evenly whilst gripping his own crotch.
Venkman cut around some more cars before ending up in front of the apartment. They got out of the car and rushed inside, finding the floor and room they needed, rapidly knocking on the door.
"I'm going first," Venkman said breathlessly.
"No, you're not," Spengler retorted.
"Why the fuck not? I drove!" Peter complained, his bladder sending out painful pulses of need. Egon's response got cut off in his throat by a whimper, which Peter smirked at.
"Did you just whimper?" He asked, forgetting about his overfilled bladder for just a moment.
"Shut up... I have an idea," Egon said when the owner of the apartment finally opened the door. They shoved past him, Peter frantically asking the location of the bathroom.
The door was pointed out to the two Ghostbusters, where they stood in front of the door, shoving each other.
"Venkman, listen to me," Egon said sternly. "We cross the streams," he said, his brow twitching slightly as he tried to keep up his professional demeanor despite the fact he was about to piss himself.
"Cross the streams? Are you serious?" Peter questioned.
"Just hurry up," Spengler said, shoving his way inside the bathroom and pulling Venkman in with him.
Peter let any and all of his remaining arguments die on his tongue as he was mere inches away from relief. He tugged down his zipper, Egon copying him.
The two of them crowded each other around the toilet, their shoulders brushing against each other as they pulled out their dicks, practically sobbing at the relief of being able to piss.
"Fuuuck..." Venkman groaned, subconsciously leaning against Spengler his face buried against his shoulder and he panted heavily.
"Venkman, get off me and look at what you're doing, you're urinating on the floor," Egon said, his typically stoic demeanor breaking onto one of immense pleasure.
"Don't care," Peter said.
Spengler looked down at the two of them, noticing how they truly did cross their streams, both warm, golden streams melding together and pouring out into the toilet bowl. Egon let his head fall back as he savored the feeling of emptying.
"Shit.." Venkman sighed out as his stream tapered off, but unfortunately for Egon, he had been starting to get hard from Peter leaning on him and moaning... and maybe a little bit from watching Venkman piss. It was, in fact, always the quiet ones.
"Wait, Peter," Egon said, finishing up himself, grabbing Peter's hand to stop him from shaking off the final dribbles of urine.
"What are you doing?" Venkman questioned but was soon shut up by seeing Spengler sink to his knees before him, leaning forward and tonguing at the man's tip. "Spengler... what the hell..." he moaned out but made no effort to push him away. Egon looked up at Peter over the rims of his glasses, gently sucking the head into his mouth.
Spengler shifted himself closer to Venkman's boot, lightly grinding his exposed, hardened dick against the smooth leather of it, leaving a few smears of pre-cum along the expanse of the steel toe tip.
Venkman groaned and tangled his fingers into Egon's curls, forcing his head down to the bush of brown pubes. The dominance Peter was showing Egon only made him whimper on his dick pathetically while he rutted his own hips against Venkman's boot.
"Egon... fuck... you're gonna make me cum..." Peter choked out, beginning to babble near nonsense as he got closer and closer to his orgasm.
With a final rut of Egon's hips, he found himself painting Peter's boot white with ropes of his sticky cum.
Venkman, on the other hand, pulled Spengler's head flush against his crotch, his nose nestled deep in Peter's mess of pubes when he came, a large cumshot, right down Spengler's throat, settling in his stomach.
Peter probably would have kept him there for a few more moments if he hadn't felt Egon sputtering and gagging on his length.
"What was that all about, huh?" Peter grinned at the scientist kneeling in front of him.
"I... apologize for my impulsive actions," Egon said shamefully, "But seeing the way the urine just beaded on your dick... I just had to lick it up," He said, his face awash in red.
"Huh, so the genius has a piss kink, that's what you mean in English, yeah?" Peter teased.
"I... Okay, yes, I have a... piss kink," Spengler said reluctantly.
"Well, I might have a little left in me if you want to drink it up," Venkman stated, watching in amusement by the way a little sparkle seemed to appear in Spengler's eye.
"Please..." Egon said bashfully, letting his head get pulled toward Peter's length once again, letting his mouth engulf his tip.
"Well, here it comes, princess," Peter taunted, chuckling a little at the way Egon's brows furrowed at the nickname.
Venkman let his head fall back, groaning as he relaxed his muscles, letting himself piss in Spengler's mouth. Feeling the way his tip eventually became engulfed in his own fluid inside Spengler's mouth before he even made an effort to swallow it was a unique but not unwelcome sensation.
Egon nearly came for a second time at the deep flavor of Peter's urine. It was disgusting, and normally he didn't act on piss drinking, he wanted to puke, but at the same time, he loved it, he wanted to swallow every last drop.
Peter, unfortunately for Egon, finished almost as soon as he started, pulling his cock from Egon's mouth, letting it rest against his lips.
"Give it a kiss, and maybe I'll let you do it again sometime," Peter chuckled. Egon, basically cockdrunk, pressed his lips to the tip whilst staring Peter in the eyes. "Good girl," Peter chuckled low in his chest.
"I'm not a woman, Venkman," Egon said, standing up, his knees cracking as he stood, a loud reminder that he was a middle-aged man... by far too old to be giving blowies in a client's haunted apartment.
"You like it, princess," Venkman grinned, glancing down at Egon's dick, which twitched at the nickname.
"Just shut up, we have work to do," He said, the two of them zipping up their uniforms, Egon reaching for the doorknob, but before he turned it, he felt Peter slap his ass, causing him to whip his head around and glare at Peter... and just from that look alone, Venkman knew he was in for it when they got back to the firehouse...