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Park keeps taking long drinks, and it's torture, because Emma can't help but watch him do it- the angle of his jaw, the way his throat flexes, the soft, warm huff of breath as he finishes- even as her thighs clench together tight and her bladder aches and she really, really needs to pee.
There's no toilet in the elevator. All that's in it is Emma, Dr. Park, a plastic binder she was bringing down from admin upstairs, and Park’s sleek gray backpack, something so plain and unassuming that it could only be wildly expensive. His shoes were the same, plain dark gray sneakers, doubtless ultra supportive for long hours on his feet, and Emma bites down on her tongue as another pang goes through her belly, tearing apart her attempts to keep herself distracted.
“The fucks wrong with you?” Park says, rough, and Emma realizes she's rocking back and forth on her heels.
“Oh, no, I- I'm fine-” she tries, and gets a glare. He really is scary, big and bulky in the narrow metal box, his foul mood going fouler at her obvious lie. “It's fine! Nothing to worry yourself about,” and then the elevator shifts, a jerk that makes her yelp, and Emma whines and curls up as the shock loosens her control, just a moment, and a little hot drop spills into her underwear.
“No,” she gasps, “no no no-!” She's got her legs so tight together her knees ache, the bones grinding. Park grabs her shoulder, trying to check on her, still a doctor even when he's trapped in an elevator, and Emma shakes with humiliation as she sees the lightbulb click on for him, her desperate face and hunched over body, the way her hips are bouncing back and forth.
“Holy shit, are you going to piss yourself?” He says, grinning like a shark, and her tears blur his face. “Fuck. Sucks to be you,” and Park pats her shoulder as if he's being comforting, which instead feels like a lead weight on her arm, thud thud, dropping right down into her belly where she's so full she can feel it, liquid shifting, her insides straining.
Emma just thunks her head back against the wall, hiccuping through her tears. This sucks, this is horrible and humiliating, and Park chucks his bag into the corner furthest from Emma and unscrews the top off his water bottle.
When he kneels down and starts trying to pry her legs open, she squeals, kicking at him, regretting it immediately as her bladder spasms, trying to release. Her hand plunges between her legs, applying pressure, as Park forces her thighs open, spread around his shoulders.
“Quit- fucking quit kicking,” he snaps, and pinches the inside of her thigh, hard. Emma’s heart is pounding. “Come on, I'm not sitting in here while you piss yourself. Pants down, or I'll take them down.” He holds up the water bottle- a little liquid sloshes inside, and Emma moans, fingers curling so tight against her pussy it hurts, clit throbbing as she tries to stop the urgent flow hammering to come out. She can't, he's making her- pee in the bottle, but she can't, he's right there but if she doesn't she's going to pee herself, a dark wet flood soaking her scrubs, it'll make such a mess and there's no telling when they'll be out of the elevator-
Emma whines, tears trickling down her cheeks, and uses her other hand to fumble at the tie for her scrub pants. Park jerks the binder from under her arm and tosses it over with his backpack.
He scoffs as she tries to work the pants down, catching on her thighs, and sets the bottle down with a clank- it's metal, thick and solid, dark grey like everything else. Maybe it's his favorite color. Park tugs at her pants, ignoring her squeaking and shaking, and gets them down enough that the fabric is bunched up only around her hand now. She's scared to take it away.
“I can't,” she gasps, at his glare, and her hips rock back and forth. She needs to pee so bad. “I can't, I'm gonna-”
Park scoffs at her, and takes her wrist in his hand, pulling. She can't stop him, he's so strong, and her fingers are peeled away, fabric sagging down around her knees, and Emma shudders with the desperate clenching pain of trying to hold back her pee, with her thighs spread and belly cramping, and Park pushes the cold steel rim of the bottle against her naked pussy.
“Go,” he says, a cold order, and Emma clings to the hand around her wrist, to his shoulder, as her whole body releases. Relief, pure and sparkling, goes up her spine and down again, sweat beading on her hairline. She's panting for it, lips soft and open, and the edge of the bottle rubs across her clit, catching at it, warming up from her body and the pee splashing into it. Park kneels there, his hand steady as stone, and she gasps a little as the flow slows and realizes he's staring at her- at her pussy, the soft skin and short trimmed hair, the way her hips roll and god, he's right there, he can see her clit and the clenching little hole of her urethra, the slick channel further back, and Emma shudders around a new spurt as heat coils up behind the relief, flooding her, the stink of urine and the softer smell under it of his body, sanitizer and hair gel.
“Come on,” he coaxes, his voice soft, “I know that's not all of it. Let go,” and Emma moans and feels her pussy clench as another trickle slips out, splashing. “Doesn't that feel good?” She nods, helpless, and covers her mouth in both hands to muffle her shout as he leans in and breathes over her pussy, hot and humid, his tongue flicking out and darting over her clit.
Oh fuck, is he going to-
The elevator shudders, drops three inches, and then clanks along down at its usual glacial pace, and Park stands up with a low grunt, yanking Emma's pants up with him. She fumbles for the tie, shaking, eyes caught on the heavy curve of his cock where it's hanging against his leg.
Park smirks and adjusts himself so it's not so obvious, and Emma’s whole body blazes as he sets his shoulders back, and drinks from the bottle, oh fuck, a deep indulgent swallow against his thirst, screwing the cap back on just as the doors creak open, maintenance staff and Dana’s worried face all peering into the elevator.
Emma stumbles out, wobbly, and is caught up in warm, familiar arms, as Park sends everyone scattering with a snarled, “took fucking well long enough!” He storms off, every inch the furious surgeon, but Emma sees his face over Dana's shoulder, the way his lips curve as he catches her eye, toasts her with the bottle, heavy now, full, and her pussy aches, empty, craving him.
Dana's hand curves over the back of her neck, steadying her. “You alright, sweetheart?” She asks. “You’re all red. Did Park do something? Ass.” The last is directed at his back, but all Emma can hear is the slick wet sound of her pee going down his throat, matching the slick wet pulse of her pussy, her clit, a different sort of relief ripped away.
“No, no he was- fine,” she finishes, lamely, “he, uh. Didn't say much.”
In the corner of her eye, Park catches her gaze, and takes another drink, lips curling, and she knows what his cock looks like bulging inside his scrubs, wants more than anything to be back in that elevator and feel it in her mouth, his tongue on her clit, would he pee in the bottle too and make her drink it or would she get it right from the source-
Emma looks up his surgery schedule the next morning, and drinks lots of water, and waits for him by the parking garage with her pussy wet and thighs tight together, holding it, until he can put his mouth on hers and give her that tight, controlled command, “go,” and Emma can give it all up again.