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Mu Qing’s actions have consequences. He’s learnt this the hard way.
Technically this was Feng Xin’s fault. Okay, not really. A while back, before they got together, Mu Qing drugged Feng Xin’s drink with diuretics prior to a mission, which led to a rather unfortunate incident. When he saw Mu Qing again, he punched him and told him he’d get him back.
And then a month later, some confessions happened and they started dating.
The news hasn’t reached the rest of the Heavenly Officials yet, and although Feng Xin is fairly nonchalant about it, Mu Qing is consumed by pride and doesn’t want anyone to know he’s broken his cultivation. And he has… very much broken it.
Recently, the topic of Mu Qing’s little diuretic experiment came up, and Feng Xin reminded him karma is a bitch and that he should punish him. Mu Qing, feeling sorry for his boyfriend and admittedly a little curious about the diuretics he bought in Ghost City, reluctantly agreed to take the diuretics.
He has no idea whether Feng Xin intends for him to just get really desperate or actually wet himself. But the way Feng Xin eyes him up every time he squirms, already feeling it a little despite being forced to drink more water, is making him weirdly excited.
Did Mu Qing really give Feng Xin a piss kink after making him wet himself on a mission, or was he just always into this?
Either way, he’s watching with lust in his eyes each time Mu Qing displays a single sign of desperation: wriggling in his seat, pressing his thighs together, pulling an uncomfortable face with each wave of urgency where he has to sit completely still and wait for it to pass.
“You’re evil,” Mu Qing grumbles, laying further down on the bed and lifting one knee up, pressing his thigh into his crotch. Because he refuses to hold himself yet, even if that would provide more comfort. They’re both sitting in only their underrobes, being randomly touchy on the bed as Feng Xin watches Mu Qing closely.
“Hey,” Feng Xin frowns, reaching over and flicking Mu Qing’s forehead. “You’re the one who gave me the fucking diuretics first! You’re the evil one!”
“Hmph. It was warranted. You pissed me off.”
“To quote yourself, I just happened to look at you wrong. That’s not warranted, asshole!”
“That’s no way to talk to your boyfriend,” Mu Qing says, tilting his head up to Feng Xin and furrowing his eyebrows when his bladder contracts again. “Especially your boyfriend doing this as a treat.”
“A treat…?” Feng Xin asks, feigning cluelessness. That, or he’s still in denial that he thinks Mu Qing needing to piss is hot.
“Yeah,” Mu Qing nods, “You like it.”
Before Feng Xin can protest with a string of curses, Mu Qing reaches over and takes his wrist, slowly guiding it over to his lower abdomen. A tiny smirk twitches at the corner of his lips as he places Feng Xin’s palm over the obvious bulge of his bladder. He shifts his fingers under the robe, letting him directly touch the area. Feng Xin runs his fingers over the bulge, flushing red at the feeling.
“You’re pretty full…” he comments quietly, his hand creeping down beneath Mu Qing’s robe and into his underwear. Mu Qing also turns a little red at the tips of his ears at this, especially when Feng Xin massages his hand against his cock, squeezing it. “Does that help?”
“Holding it? No,” Mu Qing replies, blunt as ever. “But turning me on? Maybe a little.”
“That works,” Feng Xin snorts, shifting a little too. When Mu Qing looks across, he notices Feng Xin’s robes slowly starting to rise above his crotch.
“You wait,” he instructs, “You’re not allowed to come until I piss.”
At first, Feng Xin’s grin drops and he seems tortured by the idea of being edged like that. But he also seems to want to save himself for the big moment, so he lets out a low chuckle. “Deal.”
Half an hour later, Mu Qing reaches his limit.
So is Feng Xin, but for a different reason: the sizeable bulge in his pants.
“God, fuck,” Mu Qing curses, dutifully adopting his boyfriend’s vocabulary as he squirms around on the bed. The need has gotten extremely urgent, his bladder visibly swollen, contracting every few seconds as waves of desperation assault him. Both hands are secured over his crotch, frantically holding himself. Even though it looks humiliating, if he doesn’t, he’d piss right here and now. And it’s still not clear exactly what Feng Xin wants from him.
“Getting close?” Feng Xin asks, also awkwardly shifting as he adjusts his underwear, tormented by the friction against his erection. His eyes are glued on Mu Qing’s lower half, watching every squirm and twitch while he fights back the urge to just let go right there.
“Are you blind?” Mu Qing scoffs, adding sarcastically as he rolls his eyes, “No, I’m perfectly fine.”
“Rude,” Feng Xin huffs at the sarcasm, sitting up a little, his robes falling off his shoulder. Mu Qing catches a glimpse of his bare, toned chest, and if he wasn’t absolutely dying for a piss right now, he’d be horny too.
But he has no energy to get hard at this moment. All he can think about is clenching his sphincter muscles tightly, trying to hold on as much as possible.
“Feng Xin…” he whimpers as another surge of urgency hits and he almost leaks. He grips his dick harder, squeezing it to the point no urine could trickle out. “I-I don’t think I can hold it much longer…”
“Huh? Really? Not at all?”
“Not unless you want piss on the bed.”
“Oh, right…”
Feng Xin appears to fall deep in thought, as Mu Qing feels his control falter briefly, a short spurt of piss leaking against his hands. It spills over his fingers, as he sits up frantically and squeezes with all his strength. His underwear is left a little damp once he successfully stops himself peeing for moment, but he’s aware he’s at his limit.
“I can’t…” he whimpers, swinging his legs off the bed, fully intending to make a beeline for the bathroom and hope he doesn’t wet himself on the way.
However, before he can stand up, Feng Xin grabs his shoulder. Surprised, Mu Qing whips his head around to face him. His eyes widen as he takes in the sight before him: Feng Xin lying against the pillows, one hand clutching Mu Qing’s shoulder and the other slowly stroking himself, his underwear pulled down to his thighs.
“You—”
“Where are you going?” Feng Xin asks, grunting quietly as he stills his hand.
“To piss!” Mu Qing yells, another trickle of urine seeping into his pants despite his desperate holding attempts, further wetting his hands. “What else?!”
“This is meant to be revenge!” Feng Xin retorts, albeit his raging boner and flushed face significantly hinder how threatening he seems. “You made me piss myself, you don’t get the luxury of the fucking toilet!”
“But…” Mu Qing tries to protest, but Feng Xin doesn’t show any sign of letting him go as he squirms.
“Hold it,” he tells him, trying to pull Mu Qing back onto the bed. His hand, still gripping his cock, seems to move on its own, as he pleasures himself while watching Mu Qing battle his urgency.
“I-I’m not holding it any longer,” Mu Qing stammers, crossing both his legs together and inhaling sharply, because even a slightly shaky breath will push him over the edge. Small leaks of piss wet his hands and underwear further intermittently and Feng Xin seems like he’s close to laughing.
And Mu Qing will not let Feng Xin laugh at him while he pisses himself.
In one swift movement, knowing he’s on a time limit before he’s uncontrollably pissing himself at full force, he kneels up on the bed and pushes Feng Xin’s chest down.
“What the fuck—!” Feng Xin yelps, letting go of his cock, glistening with pre-cum, and trying to sit up.
“Stay,” Mu Qing orders him, clutching Feng Xin’s wrist and guiding it back to his shaft. Another longer spurt of urine shoots out against his hand as Mu Qing straddles Feng Xin’s thighs. His legs tremble with the force of holding back the piss, a slow stream already spilling over his fingers and landing against the other’s crotch.
Aroused by the sight of this, and the sensation of the warm droplets of piss trickling onto the top of his dick, Feng Xin involuntarily bucks his hips upwards and groans, maintaining eye contact with Mu Qing the whole time. His mouth hangs open slightly, moaning with every stroke of his hand as he jerks himself off.
Mu Qing, with a smirk to hide his desperation, takes note of Feng Xin’s intense horny reaction to the escaping drops of urine landing on him. He could piss his pants right now, and let the liquid saturate his underwear before leaking over Feng Xin’s thighs, trailing down his legs and pooling beneath them.
… Or, he could make Feng Xin really aware of what those diuretics have done.
Grinning, he quickly sits up and kneels either side of Feng Xin’s thighs, shrugging one side of his robe off his shoulders to show his chest. He leans over, pushing aside Feng Xin’s robes as well. More urine seeps out of him in a steady stream, soaking his underwear, but Mu Qing really doesn’t want to mess of his own clothes.
So, as Feng Xin carries on stroking his own cock, grunting at the feeling of his own hand, Mu Qing quickly lowers his underwear a little, whips out his dick, and aims it at Feng Xin’s chest.
And then he lets go.
Immediatey, a strong stream of piss lands on Feng Xin, pooling on his abs. The wetness makes him shudder, and the hand pleasuring himself speeds up. Mu Qing attempts to look seductive as he releases all the pee onto Feng Xin’s chest, but the relief after being desperate for so long is orgasmic and he can’t help moaning quietly as well.
The sheer volume of urine contained in him is almost impressive, completely flooding Feng Xin’s chest with piss, some of it trickling down to Feng Xin’s neck in rivulets, landing on the pillow, while other parts trail over the side of his stomach and soak into the robes underneath him.
Mu Qing’s knees almost buckle under the euphoria of finally emptying his bladder, the flow of piss leaving his body seemingly endless. He smirks wider when Feng Xin’s hand slows down and his cock twinges in his hand, evidently close to climax. With the stream still going, Mu Qing aims it up towards Feng Xin’s neck for a moment, before aiming his dick down at the other’s. Feng Xin lets out a deep grunt as Mu Qing’s piss lands on his cock and his hand, spilling over the already wet and sticky member.
Right before Mu Qing’s piss comes to an end, Feng Xin’s hips buck upwards and his hand strokes one last time, then he lets out a loud groan and comes right there. Cum shoots out of the tip of his cock and then drips down his hand, mixing in with the warm piss soaking his shaft.
Feng Xin, breathing deeply, finally meets Mu Qing’s eyes against after coming down from his orgasm. He glances down, and only then does he seem to register the fact he’s cover in piss and cum. Mu Qing seems to take a moment to catch his breath too, his bladder muscles weak. He shakes his dick dry, squeezing out another few droplets of pee which land on Feng Xin’s stomach.
“You…” Feng Xin breathes out, “You pissed on me…”
“Yeah?” Mu Qing drawls out, running his hand over Feng Xin’s bare chest, his fingers tracing over the residual urine. “What about it?”
“Nothing, I just…” Feng Xin fumbles, choking out eventually, “That was fucking hot.”
Mu Qing pulls back a tiny bit, eyebrows raised. “Did drugging you with diuretics really give you a piss kink?”
“So what if it did?!” Feng Xin snaps, watching Mu Qing’s fingers dance around the piss all over his body. “Just… let’s clean up.”
“Sure,” Mu Qing shrugs, crawling off Feng Xin’s thighs and cracking a wry smile. “Those diuretics are strong, you know. I might need to piss again soon.”
“I know they’re fucking strong!” Feng Xin yelps, deliberarely flicking shaking the droplets of pee off his hand in Mu Qing’s direction. “Next time, I’m choosing where you’re pissing.”