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“Fuck, Hollander, I’m going to fucking burst.”
“No you aren’t.” Shane bites back, hip-checking Ilya as he gets his key in the door.
“You don’t know that,” Ilya whines, twisting, rocking a little where he stands.
No Shane doesn’t know that, but Ilya was such a fucking braggart about all his experience and stamina, Shane is going to outlast him or die, he’s pretty well decided.
Fuck he has to go so bad.
He tries not to think about how much he’d had to drink at dinner, just how often he emptied his water glass, or the vodka they’d both had to finish- not enough to really get drunk, or even tipsy, not with as well fucking hydrated as they were, and not after dinner, but definitely enough to be a fucking diuretic, shit.
Shane has to stop for a moment when he gets the door open, and squirm, and breathe, before he thinks he has himself together enough to start climbing stairs. Fuck, they should have done this at Ilya’s place.
“We should have done this at mine, fuck. Or at cottage. Why so many fucking stairs.”
Shane laughs.
“How are you ever gonna beat me this year, if stairs are so hard for you?”
Ilya gives him a dirty look.
“I don’t see you flying up there like bird. Maybe waddling, like duck-”
Shane jostles him, and he jostles back, and then they both have to hold still for a moment, Ilya grabbing himself through his pants, and Shane refusing to, but instead pressing his hand into his thigh and holding carefully still.
“Truce?” he asks
“Truce.” Ilya agrees.
They keep climbing.
-
The bathroom stuff, the… the holding stuff.
It had taken Shane a long time to figure out it could be, like, a sex thing, for him.
At first, it was, he can admit it, mostly a control thing.
For example-
Sometimes, Shane would use it like a timer. Drink this much before bed, you’ll have to pee at this time, that will wake your body up naturally, and you can begin your day by 6. And sometimes, when it felt like an inconvenience I wanted to get in two more sets, but I need to pee first then he could turn it into a kind of reward, or break Two sets here, then five there, then you can stretch and pee.
And then it became a challenge. Last time I drank this much, at this time, and then I got through one third of my routine before I had to go. This time, I will get through one half. I can control myself.
And he wasn’t stupid, yeah, he noticed that sometimes he would get hard after, or during, one of those self-imposed challenges… but that was just biology, wasn’t it? Like full bladder presses on prostate stuff, right? Like why you often wake up hard and needing to pee?
And yeah, it felt really good to pee after holding sometimes, and yeah, sometimes he would then jerk off, but it was all kind of part of the larger web of structure and reward he set for himself… and anyway, he was a healthy young guy- he was supposed to get hard kind of a lot, he was pretty sure.
It wasn’t until Ilya (like so many things), until Ilya caught him at it, that Shane came to appreciate his ability, and those behaviors, in a whole new light.
(So much of his relationship with Ilya was like that- Ilya finding pieces of him and flipping them over- or kicking them over- to reveal all this other stuff that was probably always there, but which Shane had never brought himself to look at. He doesn’t know what kind of person he might have been, if not for Ilya. He doesn’t think that person would be this happy. Or, frankly, this horny.)
-
Ilya is losing his shirt the moment Shane closes the door, fuck fuck, and Shane’s doing the same.
Ilya kicks off his shoes and laughs, a little meanly, when he sees Shane start to bend over to put his nicely on his shoe rack- only to gasp and stop, halfway through the motion.
“Aren’t you going to put your nice little shoes on their nice little place?”
Shane glares at him in that way that always gets Ilya a little hot, on or off the ice.
“Fuck. You.”
“No, fuck you, is the plan.” Ilya responds, and laughs again at Shane’s huff-
But this time, the laughter is too much, and Ilya suddenly feels himself lose a little, not much, not enough to show, but he grabs himself and closes his eyes, and breathes through the urgency for a moment.
“I mean,” Shane says, in that tone of voice that Ilya loves on the ice, so rude, trying so hard “You can give up, if you need to. Bathroom is right there, if you can make it.”
Shane is smiling at Ilya, and Ilya growls, reaches out, and jabs Shane in the belly, perhaps meanly, and Shane gasps and doubles over, holding himself again.
“You can go if you need to,” Ilya parrots back, “Bathroom right there, if you can make it.”
“Oh fuck you” Shane gasps out, and Ilya tries to rush forward, still stripping.
He stumbles a little, while getting out of his pants, and has to do a tricky maneuver, holding himself, holding the edge of the island thing, kicking his feet, wiggling his hips, to be free, and when he looks back, Shane is so so so carefully sliding his pants down his legs, and stepping out. Ilya gets the pleasure of watching him look sadly at them piled on the floor, and then at the back of the couch where he clearly wants to lay them out, and apparently decide it is too dangerous to pick them up.
Fuck that’s hot.
Ilya squirms out of his underwear while he watches, and immediately regrets it somewhat when the cool air hits him, and the urgency spikes, and…
He leaks, hears it hit the floor, and grabs himself again.
Shane isn’t looking this time, too busy going up the bedroom stairs (delicately, like maybe he is a glass of water that might tip over). This is good, because Ilya gets a moment to use his toes to drag his underwear across the floor a little, so no obvious droplets will remain when Shane comes back down later.
It’s fine, it’s fine, fuck they should have left earlier… but also Ilya watches Shane close his eyes as he climbs the first step, and feels that other kind of need jolt through his belly, and it’s all wonderful.
-
Ilya was very much a but I’m too busy kind of kid. Never wanted to stop what he was doing for boring things like going to the bathroom. Lazy, maybe. This meant, of course, many close calls and misses as a kid, many trees watered when no one was looking, and more than a few ruined snowpants.
As an adult, he obviously knew better than to let it get that bad, but he was certainly guilty of his fair share of pissing in alleys after you leave the bar because you either didn’t realize you had to, when you left, or thought you could hold it.
The first time he truly gets how fun it can be, though, well…
So Ilya had a girl that night, fun, just a one time thing, he doesn’t think they even exchanged much information? And they went back to her apartment, because he was in a shared hotel room, and he was all the way to rolling on the condom before he truly looked at himself, noticed how full his belly looked, and realized he was desperate to piss.
Now, Ilya was also not a quitter, and she was so hot for it, and he was already very hard… so he went for it. Clenched his teeth, and fucked her til she came. When he came, it was like nothing else, this giant building liquid thing that broke over him, lighting up every limb, and then stabbed him in the gut (in an ecstatic way).
And then he was pulling out, fumbling too bad to tie off the condom so he just held it, and frantically trying to get to the bathroom he’d passed on the way in without looking like he was frantic.
He’d made it, pissed for one thousand years still holding the condom in the hand that wasn’t holding his dick (a problem when your piss is so good you feel like you are seeing God and you wobble and can’t really put a hand out to catch yourself), and finally finished and tied it and threw it out, and wiped off the seat.
fuck.
He took a wet cloth back in with him, to try to pretend that was what he’d left for, but he wasn’t sure he’d successfully fooled the girl.
Still, he didn’t really care, because then he knew.
In the weeks and months after, kind of any time he was guaranteed to be alone for the evening, he would experiment. How much did he have to drink, how long did he have to wait, how full did he have to be, for it to feel like that when he masturbated?
He got very very good at figuring out the right timing and amounts, and then got very very bad at not doing it almost every time he was in the shower or someplace where he could cum and then immediately piss, basically pulling that orgasm all the way into the pissing and making it feel like it just lasted….
He did, however, never push it like that with a partner, again. A little, maybe, piss thirty minutes before you think you will leave, then get to sex pretty quickly once you are where you are going… but it wasn’t worth the risk, even for an orgasm like that. If he ever couldn’t hold it, in a woman, particularly right after he came… well. The range of bad outcomes ran from awkward and uncomfortable to maybe diseases and babies, because that is not what a condom was meant for…
So, no. Not worth the risk.
But with men… with Shane… and once he figured out that Shane also had this kink or something like it… well…
Look. Ilya didn’t want to admit to anything like destiny or soulmates, but he thought if he had to sit down and write out a list of all the things that would be best and nicest in his most perfect partner… it would probably look a lot like Shane Hollander.
Again, not that he was going to ever admit that to Shane.
-
Shane feels a little like a water balloon, or a sponge someone’s about to squeeze (all the weight of the evening hanging from his belly and hips, like a drip about to drop from a faucet), but Ilya’s got three fingers in him, and he’ll be damned if he’s going to give up now.
(He’d put the mattress protector on this morning and everything. There's a stack of towels by the bed. It's fine.)
And then Ilya hits his prostate.
“Shit wait stop don’t move-” Shane is too afraid to even bring his legs together, in case it makes Ilya’s hand move, but he’s got a death grip on himself and he shakes his head rapidly, knows he’s making noise, whining, but can’t help it.
“Fuck, Shane, fuck. We need to stop? Fuck.”
“No, shit shit, no just, hmmmmmm, wait a minute-” and Shane pants and he squeezes and he doesn’t lose it, so he finally starts to relax a little. “Hng, okay, well, we m- may have mistimed this, huh?”
And Ilya laughs with a small desperate edge, behind him.
“Okay,” Shane says, trying to plan (which is very hard when he’s this full. And this hard), “Okay so, maybe we don’t this time, because I think I’m gonna lose it, if you fuck me.”
“What,” Ilya says, a little breathless, “You are scared?”
“No!” Shane insists, trying not to laugh at his horrible instigator of a partner “But Ilya, I don’t know if I can even, uh, like relax enough for you to…”
There’s motion, vibration, through the mattress, and Shane peeks over his shoulder to see Ilya shaking, actually maybe rapidly tensing and releasing his right thigh or glute. He’s gotta be nearly as close to the edge as Shane.
“Just the tip,” Ilya says, drops, like a dog spitting out a tennis ball.
“Oh my god where did you hear that line-”
“Come on! Just a little. You put on bed protection thing and everything. What for, if not for this?”
Shane scowls, but Ilya is not wrong, okay, maybe he was always going to be pretty surprised if they actually made it to the bathroom.
“Alright, just a little.”
-
Just a little, Ilya thinks, pah, when Shane has begged him to go all the way and he’s fully seated and Shane has clenched up like a fucking animal trap around him, as he whines and breathes and squirms, when in his life has Shane ever stopped at “just a little”?
Shane relaxes after a moment, and then Ilya has to hold still and shake out his hand and clench his teeth- just Shane relaxing felt like Ilya was already going, deep in the wet heat of his body.
Ilya rocks a little, and Shane whimpers, faced smashed into his left forearm and pillow while his right is stuck to his dick, and Ilya is not much better, sloshing like waves in the ocean, sweating like maybe that will help remove water from his body, and breathing like he’s running, hands in claws on Shane’s hips.
He rocks again, and again, and Shane gets louder, Ilya can make out the words now-
“Fuck, shit, Ilya, I can’t hold it, I can’t hold it, fuck, feels like you’re-” and then Shane is leaking, pissing, right there, Ilya can hear it, jet after jet of it every time Ilya rocks his hips forward, like he’s fucking directly into Shane’s bladder fuck and Ilya can’t tell what’s going to happen first, what he’s gonna fill Shane with, but something is gonna happen and he slams into Shane so hard he knocks him flat, and Shane is moaning and going and somewhere in there the sound changes and Ilya scrambles to jerk him off, to get him through the orgasm he's clearly having-
And the wave crests in Ilya and breaks-
“Fuck, Shane, fuck-"
“Holy shit I can feel it-"
“Oh fffuck oh Shane-"
And Ilya’s brain comes out of his ears, even as he feels Shane pissing again, soaking the bedding around Ilya’s hand…
When Ilya’s hearing comes back, they are both breathing heavy, in the soggiest bed Ilya’s ever laid in. He feels like he’s been run over by a Zamboni.
He’s still inside Shane.
“Fuck, Shane,” and he starts to pull out-
“Shit,” Shane whimpers, as a small flood of Ilya’s piss comes free at the same time.
Oh. This part hadn’t actually occurred to Ilya.
“Is alright, Дорогой, bed is protected.”
“No, Ilya, ‘s gross.”
Ilya kisses Shane’s shoulders, the back of his neck, looks back down where Shane is so wet. So used.
“Is hot.”
“It won’t be hot if anything else comes with it. Help me up.”
With legs like pasta, Ilya rolls off the bed, and stands, more than a little shaky.
“Ah!” Shane makes a sharp noise, as he rolls over too, and holds an arm out to Ilya to be pulled upright.
When he stands, though, he stays very still, legs pressed tight together.
“What,” Ilya says, “You want I should carry you?”
Shane glares. “That won't help. Just… Go start the shower or something."
And Ilya laughs, but kisses him gently, and grabs the stack of towels from the bedside table, making deliberate eye contact as he drops Shane a little towel trail to get to the bathroom, just in case.
“I hate you,” Shane grumbles, moving slowly, as Ilya gets in the shower.
“You loooooooove me.”
“... I really, really do.”