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Needless to say nothing was the same between them after that night in the shower. They would both remember it as one of the hottest, most passionate evenings of their relationship, and spent the next few weeks chasing the high. Shane was timid at first, unsure how to ask for a repeat performance, and Ilya was cautious lest he start something Shane wasn’t ready for. But recalling their mutual pleasure, it did not take long for them to get over any and all hesitations.
Within three nights they were back in the shower, Shane moaning as Ilya pushed his pleasure and his pain to their limits. The more they did so, the bolder Ilya grew, teasing Shane and making him hold his bladder for longer, practically edging him to orgasm every time. Shane could not hide just how much he loved it, and in turn the longer their experiments went on the more confident he grew in asking for what he wanted.
Most recently, he had sunk to his knees in front of Ilya and asked, pleaded for his husband to pee on him. Who was Ilya to refuse such a polite request? In truth he was so aroused at the idea he almost got too hard to pee, and had to close his eyes to release his bladder. Shane pleasured himself as he did, coming all over his hand and thighs. When Ilya was done, Shane sucked his hardening cock into his mouth. It took all of one minute for his husband to finish down his throat.
Usually they initiated with a simple question: bed or shower? Sometimes they started in bed, but ended up stumbling to the bathroom halfway through undressing. Some days they were on the couch, and all Shane had to do was look at Ilya with desperate eyes.
Ilya knew Shane had begun to fill his bladder on purpose. There was no way his husband was producing this amount of urine naturally. Shane usually did so privately, electing to surprise Ilya with his desperation, although most nights Ilya could rely on them ending up in the shower not long after dinner. Ilya assumed he was just shy about his new found desires, until one night at dinner he was proved very wrong.
They were eating in comfortable silence, nothing left to talk about that day. Shane quietly got up from the table and returned with a tall glass of water. He placed it down between them before picking it up, slowly, deliberately, so that he knew he had Ilya’s attention. Then he began to drink, locking eyes with his husband. He did not stop until the glass was empty, and put it down with a sharp inhale and a dull thud. Ilya watched, fixated. Then something ignited behind his eyes, a blue spark hit his brain. He picked up the glass and brought it to the kitchen. When he returned it was full again. He set it in front of Shane silently, holding his gaze, challenging him. By the time he sat back down in his chair, the glass was empty again.
They finished dinner as if nothing had happened, went about their evening routines, eventually finding their way back to the kitchen to clean up dinner. Ilya was drying dishes, Shane washing them. He was stacking plates in the cupboard when out of the corner of his eye he caught Shane’s knees knocking together as he leaned a little too hard over the sink. He suppressed a smirk, and finished putting away the dishes. Ilya spared another glance, just in time to see his husband cross his legs and bite his lips. He walked slowly over to Shane, gaze fixed on him like a predator on his prey, and leaned his back against the counter so he could see Shane’s face.
“Something wrong?” he asked. From where he stood he could see the tent in Shane’s sweats. The dish water was hot and steamy, and Ilya’s own dick twitched thinking about what the sensation must be doing to Shane’s bladder.
“The water is really warm,” Shane mumbled, clearly trying his best to finish the task at hand as quickly as he could. Ilya shrugged, enjoying how embarrassed Shane sounded, how obviously desperate he looked.
“Hm, yes. Is the dishes, no?” he tried to keep a straight face, to play into the role of cruel and oblivious, but it was hard to contain his giddyness and arousal. His husband’s knees buckled again.
“I thought I had more time,” Shane whined. “But…” he trailed off. Ilya hummed and slid behind Shane, hands hovering at his waist, slotting their hips together.
“But what?”
“I have to pee,” Shane confessed, pressing back so that Ilya’s growing erection was wedged in his ass.
“Well, you can’t pee here,” Ilya dead panned. He could practically hear Shane’s eyes roll. He suddenly moved his hands forward and gripped Shane’s cock through his pants, hard enough to be uncomfortable, reveling in the noise it earned him.
“Careful,” Shane gasped, leaning on the sink for support.
“Finish the dishes,” Ilya purred, “And then I will not have to be so careful.”
Those were the magic words. Two minutes later they were stumbling into the shower, Shane rushing to strip the both of them. When he removed his sweats, Ilya spotted a damp patch on his briefs.
“That excited?” he teased, thumbing the stain before tugging off the spoiled garment. Shane blushed deep red.
“Couldn’t hold it,” he admitted. “The hot water caught me by surprise." Ilya let his mouth fall open. Shane must be really desperate. In all their experimentation, he had only leaked a small handful of times, mostly when Ilya had deliberately caused him to.
“Fuck,” he drawled as he pushed Shane against the shower wall, cock swelling shameless in the open air, “that's hot.”
He reached down to seize Shane’s length and assume their usual dance. His mind buzzed with arousal. Sometimes he was so turned on, so driven by desire in these scenes with Shane that Ilya wondered if he was truly the one in control, or if he was merely a hound dog, trained on Shane’s intoxicating scent.
His mind was too cloudy with lust to think through such a thoughtful question at the moment. He crowded Shane against the wall and pressed their bodies together as he began to jerk Shane off. But Shane caught his arm, halting his movements.
“Wait,” Shane said breathlessly. Ilya stopped instantly, releasing his grip on his cock, pulling back to look at Shane. But his husband averted his gaze, eyes darting down to Ilya’s chest, then stomach, then his erection. He looked shy all of a sudden.
“What do you need?” Ilya prompted, taking pity on him as anticipation and arousal pooled in his gut.
“Fuck me,” Shane blurted. “Please. Like this.” His hand drifted down to rest over his full bladder. For the second time that night, Ilya’s jaw hung slack. He could not believe what he was hearing. “Ilya,” Shane spoke again, voice tight with desperation. “Please.” A fire exploded in Ilya’s stomach.
“Turn around,” he grunted, no longer able to contain his desire. In truth, he had been dying for Shane to ask him to do exactly this. Their kinky discoveries meant it had probably been over a week since Ilya had had his cock inside his husband. He wasn’t complaining per se- what they were doing together was hot and pleasurable- but he was itching for the chance to fuck Shane senseless again. And the opportunity to do so while he was desperate to pee, while Ilya was the only one who could help he relieve himself, fuck it drove him mad.
Ilya rushed to grab the lube from the shower caddy and smear a glob over his fingers before diving his hand down to Shane’s hole. Shane hummed in pleasure as Ilya sunk the first finger in, pumping it in and out somewhat impatiently before inserting a second one in. He gasped when Ilya cocked his fingers and found his prostate.
“God that feels amazing,” he groaned as Ilya stroked his g-spot with expertise, his full bladder elevating the experience.
In no time he was loose enough for his cock, but Ilya kept going. He knew how much Shane loved the focused attention his fingers could give his prostate, where his cock could only bully. And he knew that although he had fucked Shane innumerable times before, this time was different. Ilya wanted to give the both of them enough time to adjust to the new sensations and limits. Sure enough, It took only another few minutes for Shane’s grunts to escalate, to grow strained and climactic under Ilya’s touch. Recognizing the signs, Ilya moved to withdraw his fingers, but Shane clenched down on them.
“Not yet,” he pleaded. Ilya stopped, but did not resume fingering him.
“You still want me to fuck you?” he asked, a little confused. Shane nodded, cheeks very flushed. “But you want to come like this?” Ilya clarified. It was a lot for Shane to ask for, more than what Ilya knew was within his threshold for one evening.
“No,” Shane grunted. “Just- just keep going. Please. Feels really good like this.”
Ilya raised his eyebrows skeptically, but he pushed his fingers back in to their full length, curling them up again to stimulate Shane’s prostate. Shane groaned and rocked into the touch. Ilya let him fuck himself, moving his fingers only slightly to brush his prostate. Shane’s eyes were closed, his face contorted in focus. Ilya was sure he was going to cum just like this, before Ilya even got a change to lube up his cock. But Shane had asked him not to stop, so he didn’t. At the next thrust of his fingers, Ilya pressed his palm into Shane’s bladder. Another groan escaped Shane’s lips, and his cock jumped. Ilya tweaked his fingers further inside him, picking up the pace and the pressure on his bladder.
“Fuck,” Shane gasped. Then he clenched down around Ilya and came.
Except he didn’t. His cock got harder like it was going to ejaculate, but no cum shot out. Instead, a transparent jet of piss hit the wall. Shane moaned, high and strangled. Ilya’s mouth fell open. Entranced, he fucked his fingers against Shane’s prostate again, carefully timing it with a press onto his bladder, and watched, amazed, as another spurt of piss dribbled out of Shane’s erect cock, this time cloudy with pre-cum.
“Fuuuck,” Shane moaned, drawn out. “Fuck. That's good.”
“It's like…” Ilya began, still in aroused shock.
“It's like cumming,” Shane said, all breathy and worked up. “But better.”
Ilya removed his fingers, suddenly over his disbelief. Shane whined a little at the emptiness, but then Ilya leaned into his ear.
“I’m going to fuck it out of you,” he promised, and then Shane was nodding eagerly.
Ilya barely needed to get himself ready. He was hard enough and stroked himself only to smear enough lube over his length. He sank into Shane with a relieved sigh, as eager to feel Shane around him as Shane was to be filled. He did not hesitate for one second and immediately began thrusting into his husband, unsure only if he should be aiming for Shane’s prostate or his bladder.
Not that it seemed to matter anymore. Every meeting of their hips sent another stream of piss out of Shane, until Ilya found a rhythm and Shane’s bladder released fully. Shane was incoherent. He moaned, one long drawn out sound of pleasure, as piss cascaded down the shower wall and his legs, spraying up onto his chest as well as Ilya’s thrusts sent his cock swinging.
Ilya dug his fingers into his hips, pressing his chest flush to Shane’s back, determined to fuck out as much piss as he possibly could. He was so focused on doing a good job, of holding his own orgasm back, that he failed to notice Shane’s breath catch, his abdomen going rigid. Then he felt his hole clench aggressively around his cock, and not piss but cum, cloudy and thick, spilled out of Shane’s tip. Shane made no sound as it did, his body frozen, contorted, head thrown back against Ilya’s shoulder.
Ilya slowed his thrusts to a halt and wrapped a protective arm around Shane’s chest as he watched in shock while his cock jumped and leaked pissy strings of orgasm. His husband was rigid in his arms as his climax, which neither of them had been prepared for, tore its way out of his body. For a long pause he did not, in fact could not, breathe. Then Shane's legs began to scramble for purchase and his chest twisted involuntarily in Ilya’s firm embrace. Air finally punched its way out of his lungs, a strangled cry that sounded more like a sob, and Shane slumped forward, released from ecstasy’s grip. His bladder continued to relieve itself of its own accord, and Shane softly cried, panted little moans of overstimulated relief as it did.
“Fuck,” Ilya choked out as he suddenly toppled over the edge. It did not matter that he had not thrust into Shane since his orgasm began. His climax arrived at the sound and sight of his husband completely undone and dead weight in his arms. Ilya stumbled forward at the insistence and intensity of his own orgasm, pinning Shane against the shower wall in order to keep them both upright as his own legs trembled. He buried his face in Shane’s shoulder, his cock pumping his load deep inside.
When he was done they sank to the shower floor. Ilya still held Shane around his abdomen, was still inside him, and guided him down gently. His husband was like jelly, quite except for his elevated breathing. When their knees hit tile, Ilya pulled out slowly and shifted so his back was against the wall and Shane was cradled into his chest. They were more or less sitting in a puddle of Shane’s pee and orgasm, but both were too exhausted to care. Ilya ran his hands over Shane’s body, kissing his face, kissing away the tears.
“Shane,” he called out gently once his husband began to take deeper, longer breaths. A soft groan was all the response he got.
“Are you ok?” he asked, a touch of real concern in his voice. It was not the first time their sex had gotten so intense that Ilya drew tears from Shane, but it was the first time he had ever seen Shane lose full control of his body like that. And it was the first time Ilya lost his own control.
“Wasn’ ready,” Shane slurred. “Didn’t know I could cum like that.”
Ilya chuckled. “No, that was a very hot surprise.”
“Fuck, it was a lot,” Shane groaned
“Too much?”
“Almost. Any longer and yes.”
Ilya pressed an apologetic kiss to his forehead. “Will feel better when we are clean.”
He threaded his hands under Shane’s arms, helping him out of their spend and onto the shower bench. As he turned on the shower Shane wrung the last drops of his climax out of his dick, shuddering at the lingering sensitivity. By the time the water was warm, he could stand on his own and joined Ilya under the cascade. He let the water run over him as Ilya used a small cup to rinse down the shower floor and bench.
After he had washed away the evidence, Ilya turned to continue what had become their new routine after sex like that. He knelt down, and using only water at first, began to ritually clean Shane’s lower body, his stomach, his groin, his legs where the pee had run down in rivets. Although he was on his knees and handling Shane’s most intimate parts, the position undeniably erotic, there was nothing arousing about his touch. It was tender, intimate, devoted. Ilya took special care washing Shane’s lower stomach, massaging gently where his distended bladder had been until Shane felt clean and cared for, the dirty and shameful washed away.
They held each other for a long time in bed afterwards, both fighting sleep to lazily make out, pet each other’s cheeks. There was a mumbled conversation about limits and if-thens for the next time, because it went almost without saying that there would be a next time. In the end, it was Ilya who fell into sleep first, face falling slack as Shane whispered soft gratitudes into his chest. Then he too slipped away, heavy and spent.